Here are a few samples of churches in Raval, the neighborhood immediately adjacent to my La Rambla abode. The last picture is one of the many bell towers that elegantly mark the time in Barcelona. Sometimes it seems like they speak to each other in their leaden bell tongues, wondering how the last hour was in their part of the city, passing ancient gossip, laughing at the little humans listening with awe.
Welcome to the ramblings of a ramblin' woman on La Rambla.
(author's note Jan. 2008) What were all the things that you promised yourself you would do before you turned 30? Have you done any of them? Four months ago, I hadn’t. Then, when I turned 29, I quit my job, cashed out my meager 401k, applied for an MFA in Poetry, started reading Ulysses*, and moved to Barcelona.
Mid-mid-life crisis? Or seizing the day? Only time will tell. But I invite you to follow along on the adventure.
I was born in Santa Fe, New Mexico, or as the rest of the state likes calling it, “The City Different.” When I was 18, I moved to New York City for college, and stayed for ten years. Three years ago, I traveled to Barcelona to satisfy a long held fascination with the city, and I fell in love. When I returned, one of my coworkers wrote on our order board (I was bartending in a restaurant at the time), “Santa Fe + New York = Barcelona.”
And so here I am.
Please note that all titles with an * are quotes from Ulysses.
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