Be Nice to Hobos (they could be world famous architects) -- Barcelona, Spain

There's always something to do in Barcelona. I don't believe in boredom, but even if I did, I would find it impossible to be bored in this city. There are too many museums, too many random dance parties, too much live music and too many fine looking sausages to allow for boredom (Barcelona may very well be the capital of pork).

Sunsets. Sunsets are also rather nice in this city. Paolo and I found a rather good one last night. And chanced upon another dance party and an epic fountain while we were at it.

I FOUND SOME SLOVENIANS! I wanted to HUG all of them and ask if they'd met Jesus.

Skewered cloud

I've been completely unable to sleep for the last few days (I'm quickly losing my self-proclaimed title of "goddess of naps") and I'm slipping into insomnia crazy-town. My eyes are buggy, my bags are plump and my mouth is stretched in a cavernous yawn 72 percent of the time.

Aimee... you can sleep in CAVES. You've slept in city parks all over the Balkans. You can certainly sleep in a very nice apartment in Barcelona. DO IT. 

But I don't. I lie awake at night and fret.

What am I going to do in three weeks? How will I find work to help fund my trip to Mexico and South America? SHOULD I be going to South America? Maybe I just want to come back to Europe after Mexico. Maybe I want to spend a year in Slovenia. Once I get my Canadian passport, work visas will be a piece of cake. I could stay in Slovenia for a year... then go to Italy and learn Italian... I want to visit my friends in Norway and teach yoga with Kristina again. Damn. I've made too many friends in this part of the world and the idea of leaving them behind really, really hurts. Is it that I'm not finished with Europe or is it that I don't want to say goodbye? 

I try to turn off my brain, but panic slips and slides from my heart to my head and makes a stimulating soup of "WHAT ARE THE NEXT STEPS IN MY LIFE?"

I was exhausted during today's excursion to Gaudi's Sagrada Familia.

But my droopy spirits didn't keep me from being completely blown away.

GAUDI

• Born in Reus in 1852
• Was completely addicted to nature and spent the majority of his time outdoors (this is reflected in his work)
• Was vegetarian (so he couldn't enjoy all of Spain's delicious sausages and seitan hadn't been invented yet)
• Designed Placa Reial, Casa Vicens, Palau Guell and the Sagrada Familia (to name a few)
• Was never married and generally spurned women (preferring the company of Jesus/the saints)
• Was as concerned about his appearance as I am (although I bet my legs are hairier), and was generally often mistaken as a beggar.
• Was run over by a tram on his way to church in 1926. Because everyone thought he was a beggar, nobody moved to help the unconscious architect. And he died in a hospital (after receiving only basic care) the following day.

 Moral of the story = be nice to hobos/hippies. They could be geniuses who make things like this:

And even if they're not geniuses who make things like this --

-- you should be nice to hobos and hippies because they're people.

And when people get hit by trams --

-- people deserve to go to hospitals.

Preferably hospitals like this. 
 

Hospital de Sant Pau

• Designed by Montaner 
• Construction completed in 1930
• Was a fully functioning hospital until 2009. Then the patients got the boot and this bit of fairytale magic where sick people could get healthy underwent a transformation into a museum/cultural center.

What if every useless church was actually a hospital or school? People would be so much smarter and healthier. And less narrow-minded. Which is what usually happens when people are smarter and healthier. 
 

View from a hospital window

We returned to Paolo's apartment and I tried (but failed) to take a nap. 

What's happening to me? 

Then we went to the Picasso museum. 

Tip for hobo tourists: 

Picasso museum is free on Sundays. 

It was a small museum and didn't contain much of Picasso's later works, but the collection from his youth and formative years really helped me understand the journey of this artist. Nearly every piece contained tragic themes of death, sickness or less than tasty looking fruit. 

I'm not sure what this means.