Lewis LIKES it.

All the pathos and irony of leaving one’s youth behind is thus implicit in every joyous moment of travel: one knows that the first joy can never be recovered, and the wise traveler learns not to repeat successes but tries new places all the time.

Paul Fussell

Image - Mandy Wood © 2009

I’m sitting on the top floor of the B hotel, on a sun lounge, overlooking an infinity pool, with views of the Placa D’Espanya eight stories below me. The sun is setting and I can’t quite believe I’ve found myself in such a spectacular location (and for such a great price – 45 Euros per person – more on that in a future post).

I had planned, somewhat ambitiously, to post regularly while I was in Spain. I’m keeping pretty busy shooting images and videos during the day here, but to be honest, I’m not really in the mood to sit in front of my laptop at night, when I could be out soaking up the lush, vibrant beauty of Barcelona. I haven’t been to Europe for ten years, and I’d forgotten how easy it is to fall in love with a city here.

There’s much to love about Spanish culture, not the least being the slower pace of urban life here. A work oriented culture like the US has many advantages – you can get a shitload more done when your colleagues come to work before 10 and don’t take two hour lunch breaks before leaving at four. But the Spanish have lifestyle down pat. When you’re here, you eat, drink and party well. And you do it surrounded by breathtaking architectural and cultural beauty.

When I was growing up in the ‘80s, flights overseas from Australia were incredibly expensive and the common wisdom was that if you were going to leave our shores, you’d better not come home until you’d seen and experienced everything you wanted to. When I, at 19, bid my family a teary airport goodbye, I wondered when I’d be back (it was almost three years later). It’s a common rite of passage for many young Australians to head out and explore the world we’re so far from geographically.

I spent about five years of my teens and 20s backpacking through Europe, among other places. With some bizarrely mature foresight, I decided back then to save a couple of the best European cities for later in my life (in the same way my best friend Raquel saves the best mouthful on her plate for last). For me, those cities were Rome and Barcelona.

Three and a half days in, I’m a happy camper indeed. And I’m pretty sure I’ll be talking about moving here once I fly home. I always do. Los Angeles has been a small miracle – the one city that’s managed to keep me in its clutches for more than a year. I’m nomadic by nature, but I think I know why I’m still in LA after six years (apart from the great weather, career, friends etc.) – it’s a great jumping off point for travel. Look at a map and LA is close-ish to everywhere. If I can just remember not be so work oriented and get on a plane to somewhere new now and then, I think I’ll be set.