Visiting Poland

I could feel the heaviness of my jet lag spread rapidly through my entire body, as I dragged myself through the massive crowd.

Bits of German and French swirled around my head, adding to the general confusion of my surroundings, as I tried to concentrate on finding a way out. Wandering amid the cotton candy houses and whimsical architecture of Parc Guell, magnified the lethargy of traveling for seventeen hours only a day prior.

The first time I was in Barcelona, I was twenty-two and had missed Parc Guell altogether. I promised myself that if I ever came back, this was the first place I would visit.

I just had not expected everyone else to be there too.

Finally locating an exit, I found myself on the other side in Gracia, a residential neighborhood with narrow streets filled with the golden light of late afternoon and a stillness that was broken only by the occasional roar of a passing motorcycle.

Wandering through the maze of streets a bit further, I suddenly came across Pl. de la Virreina, a spacious square that was filled with the laugher of school children chasing each other around on their scooters and parents conversing nearby on shaded benches.

I took a seat on an unoccupied bench and soaked it all in.

The fog cleared in my mind as I took in each detail: the elderly couple sitting together in a shared silence; friends catching up at the small outdoor café over glasses of red wine; a man stopping to say hi to a neighbor as he walked his golden retriever.

For the people in the square, it was just another day, but for me the familiarity was exactly what I needed to soothe my unraveled mind and made me grateful to have such an intimate, yet brief glimpse of daily life halfway around the world.