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lisa99460 · 7 years

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Solo Uno.

On Friday night I returned home from Barcelona. I took the trip on a whim, by myself, after thinking about it for all of 30 minutes before booking it. I wavered back and forth about whether or not it was a good idea and continued to ask myself that question until I got off the plane. I wrote the post below while laying on the most beautiful beach in Costa Brava when the answer had finally become clear. It was not only a good idea, it was the best idea I’d ever had.

“Solo uno.” I tell the waiter who insists on putting down a second place setting at the table where I am sitting. I already told the receptionist this as she walked me into my hotel room where there were two bathrobes on the bed and two pairs of slippers on the floor.

“Solo uno.” I told her, as she took away the second robe and slippers.

“Ah! Brave girls in estado unido.” She says; her Spanglish cracked like an egg, but she is trying. I nod and smile. I just spent 10 minutes to explain that I wanted an iced coffee only to end up with a shot of espresso with an ice cube in it and so I am not trying anymore.

She looked me up and down, glancing at my tattoos and then at my outfit, not hiding the fact that she was doing so while rolling her eyes. A common trend that I had noticed amongst Spanish women, a complete lack of fucks to be given. I respect it, I decided early on in my trip.

I think she was wondering why I was in yoga pants and why my hair wasn’t done but I convinced myself she was staring at me wondering how the hell a 27 year-old girl from the States ended up in Begur, Spain by herself. Gotta tell you guys…not sure how I ended up there either. What I do know is I drove two hours down the highway laughing as Siri tried to dictate directions to me by butchering the Spanish street signs with her horrible robotic accent, so I guess that’s sort of how I got there.

I just walked down 105 stone step to get to Platja Fonda. The view at the bottom looked like the scene from Game of Thrones except with neon green-blue water, or, as Tula calls it when she selects a polish color at the nail salon “greenish mixed with a little bluish” Case in point, it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. The woman at the hotel explained to me that Platja Fonda and most of Begur had been taken over from Cubans who settled there. Many of the large “castles” I saw on the beach were made of red clay stones and bricks that were crumbing. They were uninhabited for years but they looked full of life to me, like the cracks were actually mouths with years of stories waiting to be told.

I’m suddenly floating in the same green-blue water that I had been looking down at. The water is colder at Platja Fonda, in comparison to the bath water at La Barceloneta beach. It is so crystal clear that I look down and can see the goosebumps on my legs. Every once in a while the sun reflects off the water and creates an illusion that looks like a neon green laser zapping the sky. It is blinding but it is beautiful. I look around and realize there is no one else here and suddenly I feel like I’m on the island from Cast Away. In theory I had been “alone” all week but this was the first time that I had truly been alone. Salted tears come down my face and I can’t tell where they end and where the Mediterranean begins. It doesn’t matter though; in that moment we were one.

I imagine someone is looking at me and wondering how I could be crying in such a beautiful place. I would tell them I am crying BECAUSE I am in such a beautiful place. Not just this physical place, but just in life; I am in such a beautiful place. Last year at exactly this time in June, I was not in such a beautiful place. I was sleeping about 13-14 hours a night, some nights before the sun even went down. I felt defeated, anxious, and was doing anything I could to avoid the majority of my life because I hadn’t liked the way it turned out. I don’t talk about it much to anyone because I don’t like to remember that I ever felt that way, but being in a place like Platja Fonda where I felt so alive and appreciative reminds me that I have to talk about the other times, too. Remembering a time when I felt alone made me appreciate more the choice that I had made to be alone, here, in Spain.

I don’t talk about that time in my life very much, but last night I talked about it with Patrick and Andrea, a young couple from Ireland that I met when they were seated at a table behind me on a quiet outdoor patio at Hotel Aiguablava. They were with their adorable 8 month old daughter, Alice, who naturally…I was waving at (to be fair, she was waving at me, too.) Fast forward six hours later, two bottles of wine, and two plates of Crepes Suzettes and we were finishing eating dinner together. We talked about traveling, our families, our childhoods; we talked about really hard times and then really good times. We talked about enjoying life because it’s short and even though I just met them I knew they were special because they weren’t just saying that to sound like they had perspective on life- they really meant it.

I could hear the waves crashing at the beach next to us and I had one of those moments again when I knew I was in exactly the place I was meant to be. Begur, Spain…the random beach town I had found, the outdoor patio I sat at, the table I chose; I realized none of it was random. We erupted into laughter as Andrea asked me to do my best “Bahstan” accent. I repeatedly inserted the word “Dorchestah” into sentences as she belly-laughed into her glass of wine. She asked if they would be in my blog, and also if Alice would be in my blog, and I said of course they would, as their connection was so much so the meaning behind why I chose to travel alone.

I got back to my hotel at the end of the night and the silence was penetrating. I thought about all of the people I had met that week and all of the places I promised to go visit. I thought about how before I took this trip my therapist told me it would be life-changing and I didn’t really believe her but I nodded anyways because she’s basically a genius and I’ve been nodding in agreement to everything she has said for the last year and it’s worked for me thus far.

I came to Barcelona alone. Like, really alone. I said “solo uno” so many times that it began to feel natural, it began to make me proud. Mind you this is coming from the girl who picks up my best friends to come along for the ride when I go put gas in my car. I don’t do things alone. I put out the energy that Dr. Berger had encouraged me to put out: this trip was life changing and I was ready for life to change.

And then I met TJ, who was traveling alone as well after going to his friend’s wedding in London. He was from New York and we connected instantly on being two east coast kids from the states randomly introduced in a foreign country. We had dinner on a rooftop terrace followed by pitchers of sangria and then we roamed the charming streets of Barcelona until 4 am. We found an Irish pub when we were tired of the sangria and drank beers as we sang loudly (and terribly) to the acoustic cover band playing “Wonderwall.” We went to the beach the next day and had drinks again the next night.

TJ went back home to New York and we vowed to keep in touch, vowed to visit and half-heartedly but maybe seriously joked that we would meet up in a foreign country again next year. Then the next day I met Paige and Corey while on a wine tour, two girls about my age traveling here from Denver. The wine tour became pitchers of sangria over dinner that night and life talks about our families and hopes and dreams followed by night out and a drive to the beach the next day where we floated in the ocean and had talks that felt surreal in a setting that felt surreal. We continued to reiterate to each other that there were moments we had to pinch ourselves because we didn’t believe we were really there. There was so much to soak in and so little room left in me to add more memories and more emotions. When we parted we vowed to keep in touch and visit each other. Spending time with them felt like spending time with old friends and it both amazed me and saddened me that I had only met them 48 hours before and that I had not known them longer.

I came here alone, and in theory, I was alone, but what I realized was that when I was finally okay being alone, all of these amazing people came to me with an almost magnetic force. Like they were meant to be a part of this journey with me. Like I was constantly in the right place at the right time.

“Solo uno” I said to the waiter at breakfast this morning. It is the last morning of my trip. TJ is home. Paige and Corey are back in Barcelona before heading home, and Andrea and Paddy are continuing their “holiday” down the coast with little Alice. He puts down a second place setting, again. I wonder if he doesn’t understand me so I gesture for him to take the other setting away. He looks at me puzzled and so I let him leave the place setting. I think to myself that maybe he has never traveled alone and that maybe he should and then he will stop putting down extra place settings in front of people who are trying to eat a meal by themselves.

I finish my day by driving up the coast to the spa at Mas Ses Vinyes. I don’t even know what that means but doesn’t it just sound beautiful? I find it and it is a hidden oasis again made of red clay buildings nestled behind lush green and bright pink flowers. They tell me Noelia is my masseuse but she is late so I must wait by the infinity pool. They tell me this as if they are sorry about it and I laugh. This place is serene as can be. My skin is still glistening with salt crystals that are saved on it from my swim this morning. The landscapers are drilling lawnmowers into the grass next to me and I am so still even that sounds like a lullaby.

A week ago, I came here alone. Tomorrow I am leaving alone, but I am in the best company. “Solo uno” I say again, when the masseuse greets me and asks if it will be a massage for one or two. This time I just smile.

#travel #barcelona #solo travel #twenty something #connection #spain #meaning #living life #full life

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