Barcelona slowly wakes as I sip instant coffee on my Juliette balcony. Perched over the Mercat de la Boqueria, I’ve been up most of the night, thanks to jet lag and a 9 hour time difference with home. The street below is filling with the sights and sounds associated with a trendy tourist market getting ready for the day. Balding men cart hand trucks laden with today’s fresh produce, pigeons coo and strut as they prepare for today’s snack conquests, and a smattering of locals chat over coffee at streetside tables. The quiet morning air is punctuated with jovial voices, squeaking carts, bursts of laughter and the clinking of spoons against porcelain.
I arrived yesterday afternoon after a 12 hour flight from SFO. Regrettably, my aging perimenopausal body doesn’t cope as well as it used to with the stresses of travel. Lightheaded, tired, nauseous, and plagued with worrisome thoughts of all the ways it can go wrong, I stuggled to care about being anywhere other than home in bed. As wonderful as all that must sound, the very best part was grappling with deep disappointment in the state of my body.
As I passed the Cathedral of Barcelona and wandered the maze of alleyways in the Barri Gotic, an old and unwelcome selfconsciousness persisted, so different from my first time in Barcelona years ago. Thin, confident, and self assured in my athletic physique, I delighted in discovering solo travel back then.
Now, 15 years later and 50 pounds heavier, shame creeps it’s way forward, tarnishing the experience. When I catch glimpses of myself reflected in shop windows, a mix of sadness and regret with a hint of anger flashes through me. How did I allow myself to be back to this after all the work I put into getting thin?
What would it feel like to be just as confident as I was then but in a bigger, older body? What if I could see the wrinkles around my eyes, creases on my forhead, wide hips, and flabby arms overhanging my elbows – then strut down the street and own it proudly? Sadly, I fear I will never know. The sense of body shame at being overweight is a deeply entrenched program that resists revision. Maybe that could be one goal of this trip, to wear this body comfortably and without shame. We’ll see.
What will I do with my one full day in Barcelona tomorrow? I’m not sure yet, but I’m leaning towards doing something very touristy that I haven’t tried before. In most big destination cities, there’s a hop-on-hop-off tourist bus that drives in circles all day, stopping at all the major sites. You buy a ticket for the day, hop on, then hop off at whatever site you feel like, only to…hop back on and continue on to the next one. Oddly, I’ve never actually done it that way. I always avoided things that fell too touristy in favor of going my own way.
Today, since I only have a day, it seems efficient. I’d like to revisit the Picasso Museum I discovered my first time here, so far I would say it’s my favorite museum in the world, even surpassing the Musee du Orsay in Paris. I also can’t wait to see park Guell again and enjoy wandering amongst the bizarre imaginings of Gaudi. Oh, and despite this being my 3rd (4th?) time in Barcelona, there’s a major toursit stop I have yet to see, Casa Batllo, another Gaudi masterpiece.
For now, I will sip my coffee and let Barcelona work it’s magic on me.
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