I was more than 4,000 miles from Athens this weekend, almost 800 from Swansea where I'm studying, across the Atlantic Ocean and on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea in Barcelona. I didn't expect to come across anyone I knew. I wasn't considering the possibility of it. I wasn't looking for familiar faces.
The Catalan capital is a city of 1.6 million people who cater to almost 5.5 million tourists a year, according to the city's Web site. Besides its succulent coastline, it boasts a thriving nightlife, a plethora of museums and restaurants and a smattering of cultures that combine to create an aura that's not only alluring but also almost addictive.
My two fellow travelers and I visited Park Guell as an introduction to the city on our first full day there. It was one of Antoni Gaudi's 10 or so popular architectural masterpieces that are spread throughout the metropolis. We actually got lost for a bit, trying to go back the way we came after looping throughout almost 36 acres of paths and gardens, buildings and terraces. We had barely touched the site, but after spending the morning and half the afternoon there, we decided to see the rest of the city.
On our way back to the metro, we went down this hill that seemed to have hundreds of stairs. It was like Jeff Hill times four. We stopped in the middle to grab much-needed sandwiches, and about a block from the bottom, on the other side of the street, I thought I saw a pair of tourists that were Americans. And Ohioans. And Bobcats.
I knew one of them vaguely from freshman year, and the other had a familiar face I couldn't place. It was almost one of those moments where I could have passed by, kept walking to the metro and gone about my day. But it wasn't. I had to say something. What were the odds?
Bailey! I yelled.
He looked over his shoulder, I think not really expecting to see anyone he knew, and slowly a look of recognition took over his face. They both stopped and turned around.
As I crossed the street my companions followed, a bit confused. After a brief explanation and introductions, they were just as dumbstruck as we Bobcats were. There we were, all three studying abroad in Europe for the semester, Jessica Cuffman, in Swansea, Wales, Bailey Miles in Toledo, Spain, and Colin McCrone in some tiny city in France. We were all taking the weekend to visit Barcelona, partway up and down the hill to Park Guell, across the Atlantic Ocean and beside the Mediterranean Sea.
We each took a picture to remember the almost-esoteric 10 minutes we spent talking, and of course, we'll be instant Facebook friends forever, linked by the strangeness of it all.
We'll pass each other on campus when we get back, smile and wave, maybe chat a bit about the city. We all have a little story to tell now, that begins, So this one time
in Barcelona G? . And we'll add it to our list of cool things to talk about. It might come up frequently, it might fall away after a year or two, but it actually happened and when we browse through our pictures from studying abroad, we'll remember it again and everything that it represented.
I know it wasn't a particularly unique moment. I would think it happens much more than we all realize ' thus, the countless number of clich+ 17
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Jessica Cuffman
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