Good morning! We head out for the day toward Cathedral of Barcelona and stop along the way for lunch at Tapa Tapa. We enjoy various tapas, as we’ve become fond of doing, and continue on our walk through the city. We take gorgeous pictures along the way of the 14th century buildings and are in awe of how close together everything is built.
The Cathedral is nothing short of heavenly. The ceilings are high and detailed. There are stained glass windows at multiple levels and many side nooks with sculptures and paintings hundreds of years old. It is immense in size and presence. I feel great peace and wonder in all the beauty and detail.
After exploring the inside of the cathedral, we get in line to go to the top level. There are a few people in line ahead of us. It’s very hot and several of us are fanning ourselves. After 20 minutes or so, it’s our turn to go up the narrow, stone staircase. As the guide unleashes the gate, she tells us we must show our tickets again. I am unprepared and as I fumble through my bags to find them, we miss our turn to go up. Shawn decides not to stay in line. I am determined to see the top.
It seems to take much longer for the next group to come down but the lady finally unleashes the gate. I ascend the stairway and make my way into a little sitting area at the top where there is another guide waiting, preparing to give us some history about the cathedral. I dig into my bag for my phone to let Shawn know that I’ve made it upstairs and it shouldn’t be much longer. My phone is not there. My heart races a bit as I dig through two bags to make sure I haven’t missed it. I’m sure I remember taking pictures just as we’ve approached the cathedral. I stand to leave and the guide tells me I cannot. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” With a confident defiance, I leave the area and quickly descend back down the narrow staircase.
Once outside, I scan the open area outside the cathedral for Shawn. I cannot see him anywhere. I look all around, thinking he may have even stepped into a nearby restaurant, as I was gone quite a while. He is nowhere to be found. I begin to feel hopeless as I realize I am in a large, unfamiliar city without a way to communicate and I cannot find my husband. Tears well up before I remind myself that I am strong and capable. I will not succumb to the emotions welling up inside. I will make a plan.
The first priority, since Shawn and I are separated, is finding my phone. I speak to the man outside the front of the cathedral and he allows me to reenter. I look on the pews and along the line where I waited so long to go to the upper level. Nothing. I speak to the guides and nobody has turned in a phone.
I go to the nearby ticket office to ask if I can use a phone to try to call him. It’s not possible there. I decide to backtrack, as we had purchased some souvenirs prior to arriving to the cathedral. I am proud of myself when I find the last store we went to. The young man who sold me a little fan and purse with flowered print tells me I did not leave my phone there. His father comes out from the store across the way. The young man tells him I’ve lost my phone, and I add that I’ve also become separated from my husband. He tells his son to let me use his phone to call my phone. I am feeling a little more hopeful but the call won’t go through. The man tells me Barcelona can be a very dangerous city and that my sim card has likely already been removed from my phone. We then try to call Shawn but the calls won’t go through to him, either. The man asks me if he has What’s App. He does, so we try to call, unsuccessfully, and then send him a message. I tell him where I am, that I have lost my phone, and that if I don’t hear from him, I will head back to the hotel. While I am waiting, the man’s son brings me water and they tell me to wait inside the cool shop. I politely decline because I want to make sure I see Shawn if he appears. After a period of time, he doesn’t show, and I decide to head back to our hotel. The man advises me where to get a taxi and when we don’t hear back from Shawn, I thank him and part ways.
Before heading out to the main street where I can find a taxi, I am able to find the first shop that we stopped at for souvenirs. I recognize the beautiful ceramic spoon holders that are displayed at the front of the store as soon as I approach. I walk into the shop and the young sales clerk quickly recognizes me and excitedly tells me he has my phone! He recalled that I set it on the counter when I paid for my purchase, and said that if I didn’t return, he would have taken it to the police station. I am so thankful, I want to cry. I thank him profusely before leaving.
Because of their engagement in my dilemma, I decide to go back to the other shop to let them know I’ve found my phone. The shop owner tells me he has heard from Shawn and just messaged him that I had returned to the hotel. He quickly sent him another message that said, “Sorry, she is here.” Within five minutes, we are reunited. Two huge reliefs in a short period of time. I thank the shop owner again and Shawn and I head to the beach.
As it turns out, there is a garden and a gift shop just outside and area of the cathedral that I had not seen. Shawn had been there all along, taking pictures and waiting for me.
We walk to the beach and before we arrive, Shawn tells me that his research indicated that though there are designated nude beaches, we may encounter some partial nudity. He wants me to be prepared. I’m a bit curious. The beach is packed full of people and we walk for a ways close to the shore before we find an open spot to place our towels and belongings. We’ve both decided it’s important to us to swim in the Mediterranean Sea. There is a lady near us who is topless. I am in wonder of her comfort, when most everyone has bathing suits on. As I look around, I notice a few more topless women, and then a couple of fully naked men. I must admit, it’s amusing to me. They are walking around without seeming uncomfortable at all. There are men, women and children enjoying the beach on this very hot day. I’m glad I am wearing dark sunglasses!
We get into the water and appreciate the cool waves. There are three young people near us, two brothers and their sister. She is fully covered, and I wonder how she is processing the nudity around us. She appears shy and modest, such a contrast to what we are seeing around us. I try to appear friendly, as I want to respectfully engage in conversation with her. I want to hear her perspective.
As I am thinking through these things, and, may I add, imposing a level of spirituality over her and our possible upcoming conversation, an Asian lady, possibly in her 60s, approaches the water, near to where we are all bobbing in the waves. She is of slight build and is pulling her large dog on a leash, into the water. The young girl and her brothers start to giggle and the girl loudly exclaims, in a beautiful English accent, “She’s butt naked!” She’s right! The Asian lady hasn’t a stitch of clothing, and I have to laugh out loud at the girl’s outburst. She is embarrassed that I heard and understood. I smile and ask them where they are from. They are siblings and live in London but are originally from Tanzania, a country in East Africa, and that they are likely descendants of India. They tell me they are Muslim, and I gain an understanding of her full coverage in the ocean. I am thankful to know them, if only for a moment, before we are all reminded that there is a jellyfish warning today and we think we’ve spotted one near us. We all leave the ocean and Shawn and I dry off and start the uphill walk back to our hotel. I smile for hours at the thought of the butt naked Asian lady and my young friends’ delightful, youthful giggles!