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The last time I spent an extended amount of time alone here was last summer. My trip in 2009 offered me an inside view of what life is like for Catalan people, because I found myself spending a lot of time with them. Also, I did more touristy things, like day trips to beach towns, spending time at the beach near my apartment, and traveling around Catalonia. All of those things were amazing, and really helped make that such a memorable trip.

This time however, it’s different. Now I am in Barcelona full time, and it’s a different way of life here. Platja d’Aro, my “home” last summer, is a beach town that people vacation to. Barcelona, on the other hand, is a bustling city that is busy with everyday life. Of course, there are plenty of tourists, but there is also a very real sense that people are working here, living their day-to-day existence.

In turn, that is the kind of experience I’m having. Volunteering during the day, resting after, and then doing things around the city in the evenings – that has been my routine. It has been fulfilling in a different way, giving me a view of what my “real life” here could potentially be like. For that I am very grateful. Though it has been uncomfortable, as most of my time abroad has been to a certain extent, it has been an opportunity for me to face the anxieties and fears that will come with living in a new country/culture/city (should that be my path.)

On Saturday, July 10 my day was filled with 2 distinct experiences that were on both ends of the “insider/outsider” continuum. First, I attended the birthday party of the 2 year old daughter of someone I met last summer (the masseuse who I fell in love with for her strong hands and open attitude.) I was hesitant to go on my own, but did anyway, arriving right as they were getting there. It was at a park on kind of the edge of the city, a very pretty green space that turns out to be close to the school I’m volunteering at.

While I felt awkward at first, as more and more people started arriving I realized what an interesting group of people this woman and her husband have around them. Mostly they are ex-pats, people who have moved here from somewhere else. And mostly they are from English speaking countries. Scotland, Ireland, England, and the US were all represented. Some had Spanish spouses, one had an Italian wife; in a way, a very diverse group.

Seeing them all together was a refreshing thing, these people who have moved here and created a community with others with similar experiences of moving abroad and being “outsiders”. For the first time I was around people who I had something in common with – the desire to create a life in Barcelona.

I won’t go into too much more detail about the party, except that it was an important experience. I don’t know if I will see any of those people again, but just knowing they are out there, in this city, gives me a feeling of relief and understanding that it is possible to do what I want.

The second, and vastly different, experience was attending a demonstration where around 1 million Catalan people joined throughout the center of Barcelona calling for the independence of a Catalan nation from Spain. Minutes after being surrounded by non-Catalan people I was in the thick of a very passionate and heated march with Catalan people filling the streets around me. What a difference! I heard not one word of English or Spanish spoken anywhere, except on a few signs written in English.

Spreading the message to the masses.

I was fighting feelings that maybe I shouldn’t have been there, that it wasn’t my fight to protest against. But as my friend questioned, when I didn’t feel comfortable helping to hold a gigantic Catalan flag, “You are in support of what we are doing, right? Then you deserve to be here!” And it’s true, I am. Though I don’t have the same stake in it as those whose lives were  personally affected by the Spanish dictatorship of Franco and who fought so hard for independence, I still agree with what they are fighting for.

Massive Catalan Flag

The passion of the people in the streets was incredible to feel, and witnessing some of the older people who (as was translated to me) were talking about memories of people they knew who fought, was moving.

Though I can’t say that I will ever understand fully what they feel, I felt honored to get to be a part of the demonstration and to hopefully share some of their passion and story with others. This is a fight that few people outside of Spain even really know about…at least that’s the sense I get when talking about Catalonia with people. Many don’t know the history of this region, the reasons why they are so impassioned about their Catalan language and culture, and ultimately becoming an independent state from Spain.

It’s a story that should be shared, and I hope through these brief descriptions and photos I am able to do a little of that.

A man climbing up a flag pole to cut down the Spanish flag.

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