Barcelona, Spain

 Sunday, January 19th, 2020 – Barcelona, Spain

Just wrapped up four incredible nights in Barça with Tracey. It’s been an unforgettable trip – a true mix of sunshine, sweat, street art, beer, and sensory overload. The weather was a dream for January – warm enough for shorts and t-shirts by day. The place we stayed had 88 steps up to the rooftop terrace, and every climb was rewarded with a stunning view and, amusingly, the unmistakable scent of weed from the stoners everywhere; this made my chilled reading of the 400 page American Hardcore: A Tribal History book all the better.

We spent hours getting lost in the Gothic Quarter—a twisted maze of alleyways dripping in history, art, pimps and pushers. Stone arches and crumbling facades next to bold, furious graffiti. One highlight was a haunting, futuristic metal sculpture tucked away in a quiet courtyard near an art gallery—a giant face, welded and pierced with steel rods, staring off into nothing. It looked like thoughts were exploding from its head. There was something so introspective and sci-fi about it—like the mind made visible. I just stood there, feeling both seen and slightly disturbed. A beautiful contrast with the surrounding medieval stones.

Another afternoon, we wandered into a narrow street somewhere between El Raval and the Gothic Quarter, the kind that narrows into a living corridor of peeling walls, balconies tangled in laundry and potted plants. The storefronts were covered in stickers and grime, the kind of urban patina that says you’re somewhere real. People were everywhere—tourists, locals, a street guide mid-sentence, an old guy in a beanie looking skyward like he’s seen it all before. The vibe was alive, chaotic but grounded, like the city was letting you in on a secret and laughing at you at the same time.

We hit some brilliant dive bars too—Nevermind (a grungy, skater hole-in-the-wall, complete with an indoor skate ramp), Manchester Bar, Bollocks, and Psycho. Loud music, cheap drinks, great people, wild energy. The spirit of rebellion everywhere. I swear we did at least 14,000 steps a day, probably more. One trek up to Montjuïc Castle nearly did us in—but the views of the city and the sea made it all worth it. Same with the Sagrada Família. Honestly? It blew me away. It’s not just a building—it’s a living prayer, frozen mid-sentence. Unfinished, but complete in its grandeur.

Still – what a place, what a ride.