10:30 AM, the sun is out with a slight overcast. It had rained this morning. The concrete slabs, park benches, and the trees were damp. The smell of petrichor and a hint of roses is strong throughout the city. So far, the people have been really nice, despite my inability to speak and understand Catalan. My bastardized understanding of Spanish would have probably helped had I been in Madrid, but Catalonia is totally different. The city expresses itself with a mixture of gothic, yet modernized architecture. Cigarettes and coffee. That's one of the observations I've made through my eight mile walk around Barcelona.
I was constantly lost throughout my adventures. At one point, I lost my map with detailed instructions for my route home. By home, I mean, hostel. It's the only thing familiar in a country I know nothing about. A lesson I learned today is that feeling lost is totally normal, whether its where you're headed in life or your travel destination. It's part of life. If we don't get lost, we're not living life.
Feeling lost is rather subjective. When we yearn for the past, we tend to forget that a journey is making new paths in life. I learned this lesson when I tried to trace my steps back to my hostel without a map, despite how close I was, I still wasn't there. I did, eventually, find my way home.