Barcelona, June 24

The sun fell quickly behind the impossibly tall buildings of Barcelona. The air was thick with heat and uncertainty. The streets were filled with herds of travellers and locals, all moving in the same direction. I fell into the sea of bodies and was at once on edge. Fireworks were going off from inside the crowd. Flashes of green and red painted faces for a second. The thick clouds of smoke lingered as long as the ringing in my ears. Yet there was no sense of panic or danger. Children burst through the crowds with confidence. The city was alive.

Later I found out that I had stumbled right into Sant Juan – or what the Catalans call the night of fire. It's a celebration that need not be explained, only experienced. I was quickly intoxicated by the collective energy that dominated the city and embraced the festivities. This hoard of people were a thousand drunk and enthusiastic travel guides, inadvertently giving the best tour of Barcelona one could hope for.

We crawled as one magnificent body straight from Las Ramblas, past the docks and down towards the beach. The squeeze for personal space became less intense, but the atmosphere remained just as electric. The crackle of fireworks had been replaced by the rumble of music. Gigantic bonfires, portable dance floors and an endless array of food stands paved the way for a night you could only ever scratch the surface of.

I acquired a four pack of Estrada (the only beer one should drink in Barcelona) from a street vendor and found myself barefoot on the beach in almost perfect darkness, watching fireworks shimmer in the folds of the Mediterranean Sea. I pulled out my camera, desperate to capture the moment, to solidify it's existence. Seeing everything on that LED screen wasn't the same. I put the camera away and chose to embrace the moment instead.

The inhibitions and anxiety of home were long gone. Everywhere I looked I saw something new. What made this place so special? Was it the people? The weather? The culture? I felt ignorant in my understanding, but it was that very feeling that made me appreciate it all the more. Just five hours earlier I was stood in line at Birmingham City airport, wondering if I had time for a cigarette before checking in. Now I was stood on a strange beach, knee deep in a celebration I knew nothing of with random and potentially dangerous explosions going off every second. It may not have been the world I was used to, but it was a world that I wanted to understand.