I would be lying if I said I don't understand holiday shopping, because I do. Just yesterday, I found the loveliest little top in a second-hand outlet. I love trawling SH clothes shops and bookstores while abroad. Especially bookstores, because tourists from all over the world have traded in their own reads from places far and wide. It creates this wonderful mishmash of world literature that I live for. I found some theater plays, too. Never have I found First Folio books so cheap. So I get the excitement of bringing home something unique and foreign. And rare. You know how few good books are published in Romania, especially in English?
One thing I could never understand, however, is the ubiquitous lines of tourists crowding stores like Versace or Gucci or whoever the fuck. Call me clueless, I personally don't know if the Gucci store in my town has different stuff than the one here in Barcelona. I don't know if Zara or H&M do, as I don't really hit those while traveling, either. Unless I've prepared poorly. But even when I'm missing something, I prefer second-hand stores. Like the one I mentioned, I went to because I want to attend some dancing events while here and realized belatedly I hadn't packed any loose stretchy pants I wouldn't mind dirtying or tearing. A nice four Euros covered my needs and I got that cute tank top thrown in. About all the holiday shopping I'm looking to do.
I kept passing these lines of people, and I'd look in, expecting it was a museum or some such. Nope. Dolce and fucking Gabanna. I keep thinking seriously, you came all this way, to one of the most beautiful cities in the world, just so you could buy some Prada or some shit? It's not even one of the fashion capitals of the world.
Dior. Excuse you me.
What beggared belief was the fact that along the Gran de Gracia, all these so-called elegant stores are housed at ground level of some of the most exciting, most unique buildings ever made. Like we're talking architectural wow-wow. And these people are pouring over their phones, or peering in irritated, wondering how much longer it's gonna be. I bet they haven't even taken their mandatory selfie in front of Casa Vicens yet.
I wanted to walk over and shake them. Look the fuck up. You're missing it. You're in one of the most beautiful places in the world and you're actually letting it slip by.
How can you?
A lot of people talk about not wanting to look like a tourist while abroad. I don't. I mean, I'm not gonna do the selfies and the mandatory museums that all websites copy-paste from one another. But I don't care about looking like a tourist. I walk around with my plate-eyes, constantly stumbling for all the looking up and around I'm doing. They do say you should see Barcelona for the buildings, and I'm not about to miss a fucking window pane.
I don't know, maybe these people got money. (Accidentally typed monet. Somehow, I doubt that.) Maybe a trip to Barcelona is nothing much to them. Maybe they're here all the time and are bored of the architecture and the sheer wonder of how a place can look like this. If that's money, I hope I never get it, though. What's the point of walking through life, if you're gonna keep your head down and just for good measure, keep on a permanent scowl?
Fuck it. Enjoy yourself. Be a fucking tourist. Take the time to gawk at the life that's passing you by. Before it passes.
