Adventures In The Real World

As most world-travelers know, one of the best parts about spending time in a new city is getting yourself lost in the unfamiliar roads and alleyways. Obviously this doesn't apply to every situation, as there are many places where you definitely want to know exactly where you are and how to get home, but in a welcoming city with plenty of people around, it can be one of the most liberating experiences.
I visited Barcelona at the end of a week-long trip to Palma Mallorca that marked the end of my semester abroad in London. My week traveling had sapped my resources, and when I reached into my pocket to check my finances, all I found was lint and plane ticket stubs. This was around the time my companions suggested checking out the magnificent Gaudi House.
Sadly, I had to decline and I told them I'd meet them in two hours outside the museum. So how does one kill two hours in Barcelona with 15 Euros to his name and one unproductive semester of college Spanish under his belt? Well, I got myself lost, of course.
I walked the Carrer de Sant Antoni Maria Claret until I caught an unexpected fragrance in the air--the sharply sweet smell of fresh oranges. Following my nose, I turned into a large, dark archway and proceeded inside.
Walking out of the shadows into the dazzling Mediterranean afternoon, I found myself in a fair imitation of Eden--it was a massive garden (or small park), where orange trees grew uninhibited and all the sounds of the bustling street I had left melted away like the outside of Gaudi's ginger-bread-house-on-acid I was busy not seeing.
It was five minutes before I realized I was not alone in the garden--a bearded man with a ponytail and a tanktop was doing a sort of yoga-martial arts hybrid under the shade of one of the massive trees, bruised oranges littered around his feet. I plucked one of the fruits off a nearby tree and peeled it. It should come as no surprise that it was by far the sweetest, juiciest orange I had every experienced. I continued to walk around the garden, stopping to sit and bask in the sun occasionally for the better part of the two hours, and when it was time to leave, I exited from what I to this day would swear was the same brick archway. Only this time, when I emerged from the shadows, it was onto a street I had never seen before.
Using my barely-monosyllabic Spanish vocabulary, I managed the forty-five minute trip back to the Gaudi House, but that little oasis stayed in my mind for the rest of my trip home.