My first time in Madrid, I was nervous. I had abnormally high expectations for what is ultimately just another city. At that point, I was knee-deep in work, a tad socially isolated, and exhausted. I would wake up, thinking, "It will work; I can juggle these workloads today and I'll have time to myself by 10 pm." Never happened. I needed a break. My boyfriend suggested a trip, and the flight from Amsterdam did seem intriguingly short and cheap in comparison to heading back to the States to see family. So, I went to Madrid.

My expectations, as previously stated, were quite high. I needed a respite from life, a guarantee that things weren't all that overwhelming after all. And although Madrid wasn't a cure-all for my overloaded plate, I did immensely enjoy having the opportunity to eat tapas, speak Spanish once again, and meet some amazing people if only for a weekend.

“The shops were well illuminated and there was movement and life… I did not decide to go to sleep, even though I wished to, so I could rise early and contemplate, in daylight, this city, unknown to me: Barcelona.” – Hans Christian Andersen

Barcelona is a beautiful, weird little city. It stunned me, the amount of character and sharp edges it has congruent to it's quirk and slow nature. I had never gone, but as a kid always dreamed of being there--someday. My dad was in the military and traveled Spain in the '70s, and I remember this old, tattered briefcase he had filled with letters and blurry photographs; there was such a nostalgia to the items, something I couldn't quantify through my own narrow experiences.

I think I most enjoyed the things I found most familiar to me; they shattered this romanticized illusion of the city I had previous to my visit. Instead, there were skateboarders abounding. It is a cool little place with hip eateries and cafes, and I can't wait to go back.