Ex Uno, Plures

Magnify

It was 2003, and I was tired of wanting to go to Barcelona.

I first became eager to get there during a high school trip to Spain in 1989. Although we had read a lot about Antoni Gaudi’s famous Barcelona architecture in Spanish class, the city was disappointingly not on our travel itinerary. Naturally, I wanted what I couldn’t have.

By 1999, I was an adult with a thirst for new adventures. Right on cue, there was Barcelona among the “Places of a Lifetime” in a magazine I happened to pick up. The article made it sound like such a cool city—with an essence that was simply impossible to experience anywhere else. I really wanted to see this place for myself.

Barcelona remained in my mental “one of these days” file until 2002. A trip to southern France for my cousin’s wedding that summer placed me a stone’s throw from the Spanish border, and the longing returned. This time, I felt compelled to take action.

I pitched a Barcelona trip idea to different friends over the next several months, and most responded with ready enthusiasm. However, when it came time to talk about actual plans, excuses came forth just as quickly. Low on funds. Not enough vacation time. Scheduling conflicts. I heard it all.

In early 2003, just when I’d had enough of other people’s limitations becoming my own, there was an epiphany: Stop waiting for everyone else, Gail. You’re the one who wants to go to Barcelona, so you make it happen. That was when I stopped waiting and started planning. I researched some options, and it didn’t take me long to find a Madrid/Barcelona tour with a reputable agency that specialized in trips for 18- to 35-year-olds. I was 31. Perfect.

Unfortunately, it also didn’t take me long to learn the price—literally—for pursuing this dream on my own: Beyond the base tour cost, I had to fork over a few hundred additional dollars in the form of a “single supplement” (an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one) for staying in a double-occupancy room by myself. I didn’t spend much time being disappointed, though…I was finally going to Barcelona!

I prepared for a lot of downtime between official tour activities, and friends pitched in by giving me contact information of locals they knew in case I needed to reach out. After all, there would be no comfort of a travel companion to fall back on for conversation, company, or security; whatever I got out of this trip would be completely up to me. I was a blank canvas, Barcelona was the palette, and my choices were the hand on the paintbrush. I was ready.