Barcelona Here I Come

   Barcelona Here I Come

Suzanne Marsh

Barcelona, aqui yo voy!

Finally, finally I am going to make a wish on my bucket list come true; I am on my way to

Barcelona, Spain. I am about to board American Airlines flight from Bergstrom, here in Austin, Texas directly to Barcelona. My only wish is that I spoke Spanish, however I have an app on my phone that will do that for me. I find my seat and wait for the flight attendent to welcome us on board:

“Hola, bienvenidas en Americana Airlines”

“Hello, welcome aboard American Airlines” she repeats in English. That app took too long to translate; I hope that won’t be a problem once I have arrived in Barcelona. The problem was the airline attendent spoke slowly or at least it seemed that way to me. It never occurred to me that most Spanish is spoken more fluently and rapidly; something I would learn once I landed in Barcelona. I hoped that the two thousand twenty-four dollars would be worth it to me.

The flight and the landing were wonderful, no bumps no bouncing. I don’t care to fly in fact I am of the opinion that if God had intended me to fly, he would have given me wings; none the less here I was landing in Barcelona. The view from the plane was gorgeous as we flew over the Balearic Sea, descending over the sea and landing in Barcelona, Spain. Since it was January here in Barcelona, I was thankful I had read about it being cold; making sense that a winter jacket was the correct thing to wear. Their winter Barcelona reminded me of home and Austin, Texas. This was going to be the most exciting time of my life. I pulled up the translator app on my cell phone, I could hardly wait to try it out on someone who was fluent in Spanish. What fun, I thought to communicate with someone in their own language. I, however, did not consider my Texas accent.

I required a taxi ride to El Palace the app began:

“yo necesitar un el taxi por favor.”

I reluctantly strode over to the area where the taxi’s circled and in my normal Texas twang began:

“You, necessItar un el taxi mor favor”

The taxi driver gave me a rather odd look:

“Donde esta senor?”

I flipped quickly to my app; the idea was I wanted to go to the El Palace which was where I was staying for the two weeks I would be here.

“Quiero ir al hotel El Palace.” It sounded easy until I told the driver:

“Kario er al hotel Al Palace.” The taxi driver nodded but I knew he was laughing but trying not to. Texan mixed with Spanish is not a pretty thing. We drove in silence, as I noted the very narrow streets that we went down. The El Palace was especially suited to my needs since I am an admirer of the artist Salvador Dali. He had lived in the Royal Suite. I entered the lobby marveling at the marble colonnades, the ornate moldings and the crystal chandeliers. It was all that I knew it would and more. I strode toward the desk clerk, my Stetson on my head and boots on my feet.

“Buenas Tarders” That was as close to Buenos Tardes as I was going to get. I felt as if I had marbles in my mouth. Rolling the r’s as the app did was just not in me to do. I had made a list of things I wanted to see while in Barcelona. The first three places on my tourist list were: Sagrada Familia the largest unfinished Catholic Church in the world. I hailed a taxi:

“Kario ear a la sagrada family.” The taxi driver smirked as I entered the cab. He took off in the general direction of the temple. When we arrived, I was convinced I had just seen more of Barcelona than I was supposed to. Down very narrow streets toward the huge church with spires shooting up toward the heavens. The taxi driver nearly hit several cars in his way: “Hey yo stop!” My knuckles were white as I noticed the Sagrada Familia temple on the horizon. I quickly pulled up the app:

“Reduzca la velocidad detenga el taxi. Quiero salir.”

That would have been what I should have said unfortunately:

“Reduca la belocidad ditenga taxi. Kario saler.” I can still see the taxi driver, his eyes laughing almost hysterically, I still have no idea what I actually said; however, I am sure it was not what I should have pronounced correctly.

While at the Sargada Familia I needed to use to bathroom. I knew the word was banos just not how to pronounce it. I strode over to a guide:

“Bonus Tarders donde ester banos?”

The guide a beautiful senorita with huge dark eyes; her black eyebrows shot up like antennae.

“Pardone me que?”

“The bathroom senorita.”

“Go down to the end of this corridor, go left and it is on the right.”

What could be simpler? The janitor’s closet for one. I began to wish I had not slept through Spanish 101. It seemed the more I tried to converse in the native language; the worse things were getting. I wondered around the huge unfinished temple then having seen enough I decided to go next to the Barcelona Cathedral of the Holy Cross. The Cloister there had the ‘Well of Geese’ this place had fascinated me from the time I had first heard the story while learning Espanol. The Well of Geese was completed in 1448. It is said the upon the death of Saint Eulalia white birds (geese) flew down to her body and the city was unexpectedly covered in snow. It was a good thing that the guide spoke fluent English otherwise I would have found myself in another fix.

I thought I was within walking distance of El Palace; I stopped in a small cafe:

“Hola, me llamo es Jose. Estory perdidia.”

The cafe owner began in rapid fire spanish; I stood there with must have been the dumbest look of all time on my face.

“Par favor hablo ma despacio.”

The cafe owner stared at me as if my head had gone green:

“Perdone.”

“Go two street over, El Palace is on the left side.”

So much for soaking up the local area. I was ready to say adios to Barcelona, it was a terrific experience.