Those nights are nights to forget.
Yes yes, back after a long night of not writing. Hello. I thought about the fact that I have to write for a long time and it was kind of stressing me out – so I just didn’t write and tried to detatch myself from that feeling of stress instead. The goal is to write when it feels right after all and to process everything that has happened by doing so. During the last one and a half weeks though, there was so much going on that I wasn’t in the right headspace to write.
But as I said, I thought about writing and mostly about the fact that I didn’t like how I felt obligated to write. I came to the conclusion that I wanted to change some things when it comes to writing – focusing less on the „hey, look at me, I’m a wannabe influencer“-vibe and instead actually, like, writing. To process. For myself. And y’all can read along if you want to.
I like it better that way and so I will do it that way. Because it is what I need.
Barcelona and Madrid, this is what this post is kind of about. But when I think about those cities I get sad and anxious. Barcelona was alright but not what I expected. The city was kind of lively, but it did not quite have the vibe that I expected. Especially where I stayed, around the Olympic Village. It was just a bit empty. When you go into the city though there were a lot of tourists, especially at the Sagrada Familia. This contrast was king of jarring. The city felt very dense, but at the same time empty as well. The blocks that are all three/four stories tall make you feel kind of restricted, like you’re trapped in the city and the fact that they are blocks – so everything looks kind of the same – did not help with that.
Sagrada Familia was beautiful though, but also very very touristy – i.e. walled off so you can’t really see it unless you pay 26 € (?) to get inside. It’s stupid and it’s sad. Yes, financing, yadda yadda yadda, but still. It does not do this beautiful building justice. And also, the layout of the city is just weird. All the blocks make it feel like there is no center or other special places. Sagrada Familia was in one seemingly random block as well. With two park-blocks next to it, but still.
The hostels had to be the worst part though. In Barcelona it was okay-ish, but the one in Madrid was 100% the worst hostel I stayed at. It was dark, had no common room, the people were not travellers mostly and the whole vibe was just off. I did not feel safe and I just wanted to leave as soon as possible. There was a reason I went to McDonald’s two times during the two days I stayed there. As bad as it is, McDonald’s gives you comfort in a very weird way. It’s a place you know from home, not a pretty one, but one you know. And that was everything that mattered to me in that moment. I wanted to escape that hostel and needed a place of safety. Whoch McDonald’s also wasn’t, but it went in the right direction. I had no motivation to see the city, which was touristy as hell anyway. It was cold. I just wanted to leave. But I had to wait for my train to Lisboa. All I could do was wait.
It was the very opposite of the stupid clichee-Instagram-travelling-experience. And those things happen as well.
Sometimes things just do not work out the way you imagined. And this is part of everything. And it’s supposed to be this way
Just now I am slowly realizing what happened and how stressful this experience and parts of the trip have been. It is getting better, but those nights, they were nights to forget.
Thank you for reading. Gracias.
-Louis, 23
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