A donde el corazon se inclina, el pie camina.

To where the heart is inclined, the feet will walk. 

As I was looking for the saying 'home is where the heart is' in Spanish, I found the translation to the phrase on it's own is much more beautiful. Gotta love the momentum and truth in it too, the feet will walk.  I remember my friend once described me as a globe wanderer, which I very much like the way she puts it. And since I decided to stay in London, I pretty much felt like I have burnt the bridges and there's no going back.. (papa if you see this, I must admit it's true.)  and home is somewhere still in search.

It's my second last day in Barcelona, and I can tell you honestly, I have only seen what I am here to see in the past two three days. Everywhere crowded with tourists, my gut feeling told me this is not the people
who call Barcelona home.. 

Today I went back to an area I believe it's called El Born Barrio, (I have no clue cause I was only backtracking where my friend took me to, which took me a few wrong turns and reappearing at the same block a few times..)
It's a lovely area with beautiful buildings and cute little shops.

And the people.
I met the people here. Shame that I couldn't speak to them, but they spoke to me.

An old man arriving at his front door, clearing the litter gathered at the concave beam (a gothic design detail, forgive my ignorance to not know what it's called..) with his walking stick.

Guy in t-shirt and shorts and a camera, holding canned dog food talking to a homeless person and his dog. Sitting on a bench, engaging in an conversation that involves laughter, patting the adorable pet
and glowing faces on both of them.

And the artist in the photo above. He was in his own little world. I remember seeing him cheerfully showing others his artwork last time when I was here. I admire his little studio space at a corner of the street. As I walked pass, something inside me started stirring. I would love to show him my admiration, if only I have the words to tell him and to receive the things he has to tell me.. I would.




Ahh, I don't know how to end this post..
let me look at the title again,

To where the heart is inclined, the feet will walk.

Ahh, yess.
The people who call Barcelona home, whether it's on the street or an apartment with a sweet little terrace,
they must feel attached and decide to stay.
I believe one day I will find somewhere I feel responsible to take good care of, and stay.
As one is in search of the place one's heart desires to settle, keep walking.

el mar

Before typing this post, I poured a glass of Sangria to get myself ready to open my email a/c for the first time in a week.. no surprises and numbers don't matter.

This trip is smacked right in the middle of work and stuff.  The minute I know about the things that are gonna happen or needa happen while I'll be away, I reckon it's the best time to have some time on my own. It's a detoxing thought to know your insignificance ('things will be fine when your gone') and significance ('we will wait till you come back to work on it, we need you.'), or simply put, it is an escape.

With tourist-filled Barcelona, I am pressured to go somewhere, do something, go see something worthwhile. With the hindrance of language, I find it hard to understand the etiquette and therefore don't do coffee as much as I would like to. (I don't compromise going to chains).  It turns out that being at the seaside, or even while commuting, is when I am completely zone out.

There's something about the open sea.
' I still wish I can breathe under water.'
Get me a red cap and a speedo, and I will live the life aquatic.

 

 

como estas?

I am in Barcelona on a journey on my own for 2 weeks. At first it all sounded a bit daunting, as I don't speak a word of Spanish and don't know about the culture much.. But as I picked a few books to read and have things my own pace,
I am enjoying it.

On my first day, there were a few bummer: got hit by a bike, got hopelessly lost, at one point I was at the same junction 3 times while I was trying to find my way back to my apartment.. (by the way I am staying in an interesting area, think Whitechapel in London.. which is cool I am very used to it indeed)


I have decided, this trip is all about the food and the locals. 

I was at a major supermarket at a department store yesterday, I freaked out when I saw 10 or more varieties of anchovies and artichokes and plum tomatoes. After staring at the shelves for a good 10 minutes (it took me at least an hour to grocery shop last night), I pick what others picked. Also found myself looking for people my age in the cashier queue and observe what they are getting. (That's how I found out about Sangria in carton, that's some awesomeness right there.)

And when they spotted me doing so.. I just smile and they smile back. That's a good sign, no?
Saw my friend's status about fitting in with the locals at Malta with a handlebar moustache, in my case it would be hot pants and some proper make up with tons of mascara. (Barcelonins are hotties!)


Let's see what Day 2 has in store :)

a kind reminder series / more to come