I have visited Barcelona at the beginning of September this year, but it is only now that I can write about it, following months of reflecting on my week-long experience in this exotic and deeply touching city.
The first word that comes to my mind when I remember wanderings in the streets of Barcelona is intimate. The narrow streets with heavy stone buildings embrace you. They have a sense of secrecy and a very strong sense of history, which sounds very vague, but words are vague compared to elaborate and vivid first-hand experience.
Gothic quarter is not just intimate; it is absolutely breathtaking. There is something dynamic about its streets, perhaps it’s the ever-shifting light and ever-shifting shadows – I don’t know, but that something seemed to move the buildings closer to my body. You become one with the street; a part of its stone tile, a part of its strange perspective, a part of its history.
This is the first and most memorable image of Barcelona in my mind. It was an expectation turned into a more impressive reality. It is strange how whilst thinking of definition of Barcelona I instantly thought of the single recurring thing – intimacy. I did not expect it, knowing how diverse this city is in its architecture, but I suppose every city has a soul that permeates throughout its entirety, and this is that of Barcelona.