Parc Güell sits near the top of a hill in a residential neighborhood where visitors can have a panoramic view of Barcelona when they are not looking at the fantastic and fantasy-like columns, statues and paths of this magical park itself.
It was my second day in Barcelona, my first day back in Spain and Europe after so many years dreaming about it, and just one of many, many trips with Charla, and so many more to come.
And that’s what’s different, really. I’ve traveled alone, in groups, on business trips, on study trips.
This time I went to a space that
I cared about
with someone I cared for,
who also cared as much about the influence this place had on me,
because it had the same effect on her too.
It’s a magical feeling.
It perhaps wasn’t so magical that day in Parc Güell. We separated briefly and then I sauntered back to the bus, stopping to listen to guitarists and look at some displays.
And then I got on the bus. Several kids in our group said,
“Where were you?”
“Charla couldn’t find you and now she’s nervous that you’re lost so she ran back into the park to find you.”
“You’re in big trouble!”
Oops, I thought. Charla saw me and breathed a big sigh of relief.
“I’m fine,” I said. I may have been in trouble but it was nice how much she cared.top