Barcelona wore me down. The energy, the sheer beauty of the place incited me to invade my reserves and burn my candle at both ends leaving me with amber memories and the firm conviction that in order to live one must follow one’s heart. That’s what an artist does right? A detective follows the clues, a journalist follows the story and an artist follows the heart.

While in Barcelona I saw as much Gaudi as I could, and ate more jamon than I should. I rode on two different tramways and looked down on a splendid city full of fire and life and love.

I laid on the weathered wood of the boardwalk at the port of Barcelona, warmed by the sun, and I somehow forgot about the moments in my recent life that until that Spanish second, were all I could remember. A dear, dear friend told me that “perspective” is a big, kind, gentle word. Perspective is what I finally found in the warmth and light of Catalonia. The world has changed for me. It’s gotten a lot bigger, and the moments in my life that have had the most import the strongest pull, are now balanced out by possibilities with even more gravity.

One more outing before leaving Barca. A pilgrimage to see La Pedrera. An apartment building designed by Antoni Gaudi. It was a quick run up the Passeig de Gracia from my hotel to La Pedrera I had checked out oF the hotel because I knew I was going to the train station after. Neglected to get a ticket online but the queue was short.

UNESCO has declared this building an international landmark. No surprise. Gaudi designed it over a century ago and it is modern and fresh and human and alive. Gaudi 100 years ago puts Frank Gehry to shame today. I could try to describe it to you, but I’m just as powerless as I was to describe Sagrada Familia. At the great web hosting company Media Temple, new team members are asked what they would do with a million dollars. I now have an answer. I would hope that it was enough to buy an apartment in La Pedrera

The time was too short in that place. It was time to hit the road. I headed out and in 6 metro stops and I was at Sants Estacion. Had to go through a security check to get on the train. First time that had happened, and we all know why. Religious fanatics Have a way of screwing things up for everyone. I don’t hate religion, but I despise fanatics who do evil and hide behind religion.

Took my seat in the first class coach and immediately dozed off. Woke long enough to To explain to the very beautiful and dignified attendant, that my Spanish was limits but that I I would like the lunch consisting of fish. She smoothed back her blond hair and smiled softly. In a mix of Spanish and English she reassured me and confirmed my lunch order. Before long I was sipping some wine, eatIng some lunch, and lookIng at the scenery. Then I fell asleep again. I awoke long enough to order some brandy and when that was done, so was I. The next thing I knew we were in the station and the gentle blonde attendant had her hand on my arm, shaking me awake. Her eyes has a tinge of worry in them. I must have looked as tired as I felt.

I gathered up my stuff and found my way to the metro. 2 stops and I was heading up the stairs wondering if finding my hotel was going to be a hassle. Lucky me, it was right across the street. I checked in. The room was actually a little nicer than what I was expecting. Got settled in and took a walk in the late afternoon sun. It was the golden hour, but I found it hard to find and compose images. My camera felt heavy. So I just walked.

Madrid is a big city, a bustling city, an energetic and happening place. I got the sense that I could spend a lot of time there. Madrid felt different than Barca. Madrid is the capital. Men walk around in jackets and ties. Hotel doormen look like longtime pros. Barca is a stop on the backpack circuit. Madrid seemed a little more upscale, a little more posh. You bring your A game when you come to Madrid. Yeah I could probably spend a lot of time in this town, but time was running out so I satisfied myself with a stroll through a big plaza near the hotel. It was Halloween and there were zombies and vampires and blood and gore all over. In the middle of it all was a Mexican Mariachi band playing near the big fountain at the center of the plaza, drumming up business for a gig later that night, or so I surmised from the guy handing out flyers as they played. It was going to be a big night as the plaza was crowded and people were streaming in from six different directions. It was already a big night for a couple of folks as evidenced by the puddles of puke here and there. Some things are true no matter where you go and when it comes to drinking, festive nights bring out the amateurs. Of course I’m not really one to talk after my drunken adventure on the Spanish Steps in Roma, but at least I didn’t toss my cookies.

Ran into a group of young people, 2 dozen or so, all dressed for Halloween, dancing to the Michael Jackson hit Thriller playing on a boom box. They must have rehearsed because they had the whole thing choreographed. They didn’t have a hat out, they weren’t busking. They were dancing for the love of it. As Joni Mitchell said, they were “…playin real good for free”.

I decided I needed a bit to eat. Saw a little tapas place off the plaza and grabbed a table. Ordered some croquettes, some olives, Gulas with fried egg and vino tinta de la casa. It wasn’t until the waiter left that I realized I ordered in Spanish.

I had heard of Gulas but had not seen them on any menu up to that moment. Basically, Gulas are tiny little eels about the size of small earthworms. They are sautéed in olive oil and garlic and served with bread or a fried egg or some other thing. A nice snack. If had not known they were eels I might have thought they were some kind of pasta. It was a pleasant repast. The wine was excellent. House wine is always good in Europe. There’s a different set of priorities here than in the states. I sat and ate and tried to put it all together. Every minute, every sight, sound, taste and smell on this trip was new territory. Traveling alone you realize what is important. The past has no importance beyond what we learn from it. It’s the present that deserves our attention, and the future that needs our imagination.

It’s my last night in Europe… This trip.