After my Bat Mitzvah nearly two years ago, my grandmother, Nancy, proposed the idea of a trip as her gift to me. Just the two of us, to a destination of my choosing. Although I typically deliberate any given decision for hours, this one was easy: I have always wanted to travel to Spain. My grandmother and I decided on a five-day trip. We would spend the first two nights in Barcelona, in Cataluna, the next two in Mallorca and a final night back in Barcelona. She booked the plane tickets, and it was final. I was going to Spain.
The first day was jam-packed with activity. When we arrived in late June, we rushed to unpack and eat lunch before we began a scheduled tour. Our guide was eager to show us everything Barcelona had to offer. We had little time to take in each quaint gift shop or award-winning local bakery before he rushed us to grab a taxi to our first main destination: Antoni Gaudi’s La Sagrada Familia Cathedral.
I typically hate visiting historical monuments during a trip. To me, nothing is exciting about staring at architecture for hours on end. I resented my grandmother for forcing me to spend an hour in what was sure to be just another boring cathedral. I had done no prior research on the Sagrada Familia, nor had I asked my grandmother or the guide anything about it. However, even if I had done so, no photos would have done the cathedral justice.
Stepping into the Sagrada Familia was like entering a jungle. Gaudi was an experimental modernist, fabulist and traditionalist at the same time; and it shows. Bright, colorful light burst through the stained glass windows in every shade of the rainbow, and the towering columns branched out like trees to form a canopy on the ceiling. The looming facade was full of figures, animals and intricate scenes delicately carved in marble. Although my stubborn self hated to admit it, my grandmother could not have chosen a better place to visit.
After that first day, we had to fend for ourselves in a city neither of us knew. It was both exciting and intimidating to be surrounded by unfamiliar streets. Spending so much time in New York City’s methodical grid system made traversing the twisting Barcelona roads difficult but rewarding. Navigating through each passageway and turn felt like an adventure, and passing a familiar street or shop felt like a victory. When we reached our destination, we sighed with relief and patted ourselves on the back.
Traveling with my grandmother wasn’t always easy. She and I often grappled for control of the day’s agenda. I can recall the two of us stumbling with exhaustion from the morning’s activities as we argued about where we would eat lunch. But, no matter the issue, our squabbles were nothing a good meal couldn’t mend.
Whatever happened earlier in the day, my grandmother and I would always make time for a special dinner meal. Per my grandmother’s recommendation, I tried anchovies, sardines and even a bit of raw fish (which I usually avoid at all costs). Surprisingly, I enjoyed them all. When I returned home, it was especially funny to see my parents’ faces when I ordered a plate of fried sardines at a restaurant.
On the last night, we had a particularly memorable meal. After a long day of traveling, my grandmother asked me to find a restaurant near our hotel. I proposed a cute tapas restaurant a few blocks away, but she decided she’d rather eat at the hotel’s restaurant. I searched up some reviews on my phone and found the restaurant’s rating hovered at a not-so-great four stars, with the main positives being the views and ambiance and not the most important aspect of any restaurant, the food.
Nonetheless, we went to the restaurant and ordered a few plates. The food tasted bland at best and slightly nauseating at worst. The last thing I said to my grandmother before we headed back up to our room was, “We should have gone to that Tapas restaurant!”
I don’t get many chances to spend time alone with my grandmother. She is one of the most important people in my life, and I look up to her both as a role model and fashion icon. I always look forward to our rare but special outings. When she offered to take me to Spain, I jumped at the chance to travel to a place I’ve always wanted to visit. Going there with my grandmother made the trip even more special.
