DAY 8
Departure and the feeling that the journey came together
That morning when you leave
The moment you open your eyes in the morning, the thought hits you: that’s it. It’s over. How unfair.
You slowly start to wake up. Resigned to it, you make coffee. One sip, then another, and you begin convincing yourself that we really did have a great time and that we have to go home, if only so we can set off somewhere again.
And then you remember that tomorrow is a workday. So you finish your coffee, teeth clenched, right to the last sip.
To the airport
Enough complaining, it’s time to pack. Our flight wasn’t until one in the afternoon, which meant a normal morning, a calm check-out from the hotel and an unhurried arrival at the airport.
I had already taken care of the check-in through the app a week earlier, while we were still at home airport.
Since we had been getting around mostly by taxi, I ordered one for the trip to the airport as well. The ride was short and, more importantly, cheaper than using the ride-hailing apps, so I suspect I won’t be relying on those much in the future.
Once you walk through the Departures entrance, the self-pity fades away and a different feeling takes over: we’re going home. And, truth be told, that’s not such a bad thing after all.
El Prat
The airport is clear and easy to navigate, and it doesn’t take long to figure out where you need to go.
It was fairly crowded, but despite that, everything ran smoothly.
Baggage drop for Vueling is handled through self-service machines, which was new for us. There were, however, plenty of staff nearby in case anything went wrong.
And that’s it. All that’s left now is waiting.
What stayed with us the most
We had plenty of time before our flight, so we started talking about what each of us had enjoyed the most.
Nara was fascinated by the Sagrada Família, Anja by La Pedrera and Sant Pau, Nia by the Big Fun museums, while what stayed with me the most was the view over Barcelona from that bench above Park Güell that we found by chance.
We all agreed, though, that our favourite day overall was the day trip to Tarragona and the walk along the beach in Vilanova i la Geltrú.
It’s probably that sense of spontaneity, and days without too much planning, that’s worth remembering for future trips.
One story ends, another begins
After a short delay, we were taken by bus to the middle of the airport, where our plane was already waiting for us.
Looking back at the flights we’ve taken to Brnik over the past few years, it still surprises me how they are almost always full. That’s actually good news, as it might also mean hope for a few more direct routes from Slovenia.
As the plane begins to climb above the clouds, Barcelona and Catalonia are left somewhere below us. We leave satisfied, carrying plenty of good memories and impressions, and also with a sense of relief that everything turned out well, especially considering the trip began with illness.
We didn’t have any bad experiences. People were friendly, prices reasonable, and public transport reliable. It was particularly reassuring to see how smoothly the transition into 2026 was handled, given that this was our first time celebrating the New Year outside, surrounded by such a large crowd.
Yesterday afternoon, when we returned from wandering around the city, small bags of grapes were waiting for us in our room. We had no idea what they were for, so we left them behind when we headed to Plaça d’Espanya for the New Year’s celebration.
We waited for the clock to strike midnight and for the fireworks to begin.
That’s when we noticed that many people in the square were holding grapes. The final wave of drones faded out, rockets shot into the sky, and the clock struck midnight. With each chime that followed, the people around us ate one grape. It’s called las doce uvas de la suerte, a New Year’s tradition in which you eat twelve grapes at midnight, one for each month of good luck.
After the fireworks, the crowd dispersed calmly and in an orderly way. We didn’t hear any firecrackers, the shops were still open, and there were no incidents throughout the evening, even though more than 115,000 people had gathered.
A unanimous decision: the beach
The girls woke up surprisingly early, even though we didn’t return from the area around Plaça d’Espanya until around 1:30 a.m. We had no plans for the day. We had deliberately left it open back home, with no schedules and no obligations. We would simply do whatever felt right. And what felt right was the beach.
Through the Gothic Quarter to the sea
We started at Plaça de Catalunya and made our way down to La Rambla, which was already filling up. Before long, we turned into the side streets, Carrer de Ferran and Carrer d’Avinyó. The latter was almost empty, just a short hundred meters from Barcelona’s main pedestrian avenue.
One more thing we noticed right away when we stepped out of the taxi: everything was spotless. There was no trace of the previous day’s celebrations anywhere, as if it were just an ordinary Thursday.
No matter how you make your way from Plaça de Catalunya toward the waterfront, whether along La Rambla or through the side streets of the Gothic Quarter, you eventually end up on Passeig de Colom, that long, palm-lined avenue by the sea.
You cross it, take in the palm trees, reach the other side, and suddenly see people strolling beneath them in short sleeves. Yes, this too is Barcelona on the first of January. The thermometer read 15 degrees Celsius.
El Cap de Barcelona
Somewhere near this pop-art sculpture, installed in 1992 for the Olympic Games, you start to notice the change. You leave behind the narrow streets lined with tall buildings and an old-world feel, and as you move closer to the sea, everything opens up. The sculpture is covered in colorful ceramic tiles, though it can’t quite compare to the ones we saw on our last trip to Portugal.
We continue past the marina, which is filled with yachts.
Along the waterfront, the restaurants are busy. Most people are drinking coffee, some are having a late breakfast, while others clearly haven’t quite finished celebrating the night before and are continuing with Aperol spritzes.
Invisible parrots
We follow a stream of people who have the same idea for spending the first day of the new year at the beach. We spot a large Christmas tree, but your eyes slide past it, distracted by the backdrop of palm trees. If you’re from somewhere like the Gorenjska region, the mountainous part of Slovenia, your brain simply can’t immediately process the coexistence of a decorated Christmas tree and palm trees in the same scene.
As you walk beneath these palms, you constantly hear a kind of shrill bird noise. You’re by the sea, so naturally your first thought is seagulls. But when you look around, there are none to be seen. A white seagull on a green palm tree would be impossible to miss. Clearly, they aren’t seagulls. The chaotic screeching, which sounds like a never-ending argument, continues.
Anja had read that Barcelona is full of parrots, which you rarely see because they hide high up in the palm trees. They’re monk parakeets, which were a popular choice as pets in the last century. Many escaped, and others were simply released.
These days there are so many of them that their screeching has become part of the city’s everyday soundscape, like an upgraded version of cicadas by the sea. At first you notice them, then you tune them out. Seeing them is another story altogether.
Over the course of the entire week, we saw them only twice: once at the viewpoint above Park Güell, and once on the very last day, right in the city center, all gathered in a single tree.
Barceloneta Beach
After all the screeching in the palm trees, you soon catch sight of the beach. Shaped like an elongated triangle, Barceloneta stretches for just over a kilometer and is several hundred meters wide. Much of its modern layout is thanks to the 1992 Olympic Games.
Time and again, as we travel, we realize how much events like world expos in the early twentieth century or the Olympic Games have contributed to the look and feel of cities. Barcelona was lucky enough to host both.
The beach was busy, and considering its size, the scene was surprisingly pleasant. Some people were sitting on benches along the edge, others had found a spot on the sand, and the bravest of all decided to test the temperature of the Mediterranean Sea.
The girls ran from the waves so they wouldn’t get soaked, and were very obviously having a great time.
As you watch this beach, it feels like something is missing, and it’s precisely that absence that makes it so appealing. It feels more like part of a neighborhood and less like a tourist attraction, even though it’s crowded.
There are no hotels.
You only see the iconic sail-shaped one, known as the W, but it doesn’t feel intrusive since it sits right at the edge. Someone clearly gave real thought to the urban planning here, and that’s what makes this place feel different, better, and more beautiful.
The Aquarium
If you’re already in this part of the city, a visit to the aquarium is almost a given. With its main tank holding nearly four million liters of water, it’s one of the area’s main attractions. You start with the standard tanks filled with smaller fish, lobsters, sea stars, and whatever else you might find along the way. The aquarium is home to more than 11,000 animals.
The highlight of the visit is without a doubt the moving walkway through the underwater tunnels, with three-meter-long sharks, rays, and schools of fish gliding above you.
At the end, you can walk through a giant whale, there’s a play area for kids, and you can even feed the fish.
They’re Slovenians
On the interactive screens, you can choose a fish, color it however you like, and give it a name. There were several of these screens, and kids were creating their own fish at every one of them. Including our two.
Once they were done, they sent their fish off, and it appeared on a large screen on the wall. First, a small fish in yellow and blue shades swam across, named Nia. Then another one followed, pink and red, named Nara. At the screen next to ours, a boy had just finished his fish and sent it along as well. When it appeared, it was gray, completely colorless, with the name Jebo Jebic floating above it. *The fish appeared with a deliberately vulgar Balkan joke name, instantly understood as inappropriate by anyone from the region.
I immediately started laughing uncontrollably. Then, from behind us, we heard a mother’s horrified voice:
“Are you out of your mind? These are Slovenians, they understand you!”
Big Fun Museum
When we first walked along La Rambla, we noticed this museum and promised ourselves we’d come back one day when we had more time. Today, we had plenty of it. It turned out to be a museum of illusions, unusual art installations, clever visual effects, and playful backdrops for photos. The girls loved it, and so did we. We laughed a lot, making it a perfect way to start the new year.
A change of plans for tomorrow
Tomorrow, we were supposed to take the train to Montserrat, the famous mountain sanctuary with its Benedictine monastery, and then stop at the Colònia Güell crypt on the way back, where Gaudí experimented with his ideas.
The girls weren’t particularly excited about that plan, so I picked up my phone, and after half an hour we decided to go to Tarragona instead.
It’s a city known for its exceptionally well-preserved Roman buildings, which also fits nicely with our next trip in February, when we’ll be heading to Rome.
So tomorrow, a mini trip within the trip awaits us.
That day actually started two months earlier, on October 18, when I booked a guided tour. It might sound way too early, but since it was the last day of the year, I didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
Today, January 17, when I checked availability again, it turned out that booking just a few days ahead would’ve been more than enough. The price difference between a regular ticket and a guided tour was only a few euros, so we went with the tour. I also added access to one of the towers, which later proved to be a pretty big mistake.
Two Parks
The taxi dropped us near Plaça de la Sagrada Família. We got there early, so we had the park mostly to ourselves, aside from a handful of visitors, mostly from Asia.
I’ve done this before. Heading out at dawn to photograph a landmark. When the sun starts pushing up over the horizon, it’s usually just me, maybe one overly enthusiastic photographer, and almost always a small group of Asian tourists.
From this park, the view opens up instantly. The massive church stands right in front of you, recently crowned the tallest church in the world.
Once we’d taken it all in and that first wave of excitement settled a bit, we walked past the basilica to the park on the opposite side, Plaça de Gaudí.
If you want a truly great photo, this is the spot. There’s a small pond in the park where the Sagrada Família reflects in the water, and that reflection takes the shot to another level.
Three Façades: Nativity, Passion, and Glory
The Sagrada Família is built around three monumental façades, each facing a different point of the compass, each with its own meaning and story. Together, they tell a single narrative: from birth, through suffering, to glorification.
The Nativity Façade, facing the rising sun, was created under Gaudí’s direct influence. It’s overflowing with natural forms, animals, and biblical scenes. Everything feels alive, in motion, packed with detail.
On the opposite side stands the Passion Façade. Cold, stripped down, carved with sharp, severe lines and dramatic figures that show the final hours of Christ’s life without softening the blow.
The third one, the Glory Façade, is still under construction and will be the largest of them all. It’s meant to represent humanity’s path toward God, from death and judgment to light, and it will eventually become the basilica’s main entrance.
When you look at the church from both sides, it’s easy to fall into quick labels: one is “the beautiful one,” the other “the ugly one.” Logically, you’d think the ugly one would be the Passion Façade, right? Turns out, no. The one we thought was ugly, the side by the park with the pond, is actually the Nativity. We only realized that later, back home, while writing this post. Apparently, our sense of beauty is a little… off.
It’s not like some deep mental shift suddenly happened while we were standing there, staring at a façade filled with the Holy Family, the Three Kings, and an explosion of animals and life. That’s birth symbolism, not suffering. Obviously.
And yet, the realization never clicked. Not even when the guide clearly, and correctly, referred to it as the Nativity Façade for the umpteenth time. It just didn’t sink in.
Maybe it was the cold morning. Maybe it was the lack of coffee. Maybe it was the wind, and the way her Spanish-accented English struggled to make it cleanly through the headphones. Any excuse will do. The truth is just a little less flattering.
Now we know. The “ugly” one is actually the beautiful one, the Nativity Façade. And the “beautiful” one is the ugly one, the Passion Façade. Probably a good thing the third façade wasn’t finished when we visited, or the confusion would’ve been complete.
The one mildly comforting detail? Our daughters feel the exact opposite about it.
The Interior
Since we still had some time before the guided tour, we entered through the Nativity side, the one that symbolizes love.
The first thing that hits you are the massive columns. They instantly bring to mind giant tree trunks, rising up and holding the entire structure in place with their branching forms.
Only then do you start to register the cross-shaped floor plan. As you walk toward the far end of the nave, the colors come into play: stained glass in cool blues and greens on the left, deep reds on the opposite side. At least here, color makes it immediately clear which side stands for birth and which one represents suffering.
When you stand in the middle, it’s almost impossible not to crane your neck and stare straight up. The nave rises to an astonishing height, all the way to 75 meters. Above the altar floats a sculpture of Jesus Christ, triumphant over suffering, lifting upward toward the sky.
All of this was explained far more clearly by our guide, though I’ll admit I only half listened. I was too busy taking photos.
We exited through the Passion side. This façade feels heavier, emptier, more restrained, with stark depictions of Christ at the moment of death. What caught Naro’s attention most was the mysterious number square, an ideogram with 310 different combinations, all of them adding up to 33, Christ’s age at his death.
The Passion Tower
The elevator takes you partway up the tower, to about 60 meters. From there, you climb a bit more on foot, crossing a short open passage where the city opens up on both sides. The bridge is packed with people, so we squeeze through and step into the neighboring tower. That’s where the suffering begins.
The descent. Nearly 400 steps down. The corridor is narrow, barely a meter wide. It’s dark, with only thin slits of light every few meters. The stairs are steep, winding downward in tight spirals. If you ever want a hands-on definition of “claustrophobic,” this is it.
Nia isn’t feeling well. She starts shaking, and it’s immediately clear that the only goal now is to get down as fast as possible. At first, it’s manageable. Walls on both sides, unpleasant but at least you know there’s nowhere to fall. Then, just when you think it can’t get any worse, about a hundred steps in, you hit a narrow spiral staircase with a hole in the middle that drops all the way to the ground.
We’re moving down in a line. I go first, my right arm stretched back so Nia doesn’t accidentally step into the center. Behind her is Nara, with Anja bringing up the rear. The stairs keep twisting, the sense of height never really fading. You stare into that hole and just wish you were already at the bottom. Through the narrow slits, you can tell you’re still high up. More than 300 steps in this section alone.
At least there are other people ahead of us. It helps, knowing you’re not alone. Nia is holding on, we try to distract her, but the tension is building for all of us. I honestly don’t know how long we were walking. To me, it felt like a full hour.
And then, finally, solid ground. Relief. We step out through the Passion Façade exit and just stand there for a while, letting things settle. Once we’ve caught our breath, we leave the Sagrada with mixed feelings and a quick, unanimous decision: no more towers in the future.
On the corner, we find a café. We sit down, order coffee, and just… breathe.
Sant Pau Modernist Complex
After everything we’d just been through inside the Sagrada, we needed ground under our feet, open space, and air. So we walked along Avinguda de Gaudí toward the former hospital complex of Sant Pau, a place that feels like the complete opposite of the heavy, overwhelming basilica.
Even from the outside, it looked beautiful. The only regret is that we didn’t go in. Judging by the photos, the interior is even more impressive and would’ve been the perfect balm after what we’d just been through. A true counterweight to the Sagrada. Anja even said she liked Sant Pau more.
Park Güell
From here, we were closest to another of Gaudí’s creations, one he designed for the Güell family, one of Barcelona’s wealthiest and most influential families at the start of the last century. The project was originally meant to be an exclusive garden neighborhood, but it never took off. The land later became public property and was turned into a public park.
Since the park sits on a hill, we opted for a taxi, easily the most practical choice. There’s no nearby metro, unless you’re in the mood for a roughly twenty-minute uphill walk. Our plan was to enter from the top, near Carretera del Carmel, and then slowly work our way down, avoiding the ticketed section of the park. At least, that was the idea. When we arrived, we ran into lines and quickly realized that the area was paid entry today. Even if we’d wanted tickets, it wouldn’t have mattered. They were sold out for the day.
Still, we didn’t give up. After walking uphill a few minutes from the entrance, we turned off the road toward the park and kept going until we hit a fence. Right in front of it was a bench, and there we sat, completely alone for over half an hour, soaking in the view over Barcelona. Our only company were the green parrots that seem to be everywhere up there.
Casa Milà (La Pedrera)
We still had one more Gaudí landmark left to see: Casa Milà, better known as La Pedrera. When it first opened, it was so unconventional that locals mockingly called it “the quarry.” Its wavy stone façade, without a single straight line, completely baffled them. Today, that same irregularity is considered one of its greatest strengths, and the reason the building is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
It was time to head back to the hotel. The big finale was still ahead of us. Entering the new year.
Entering 2026
The plan to climb Montjuïc on New Year’s Eve had already fallen apart a few days earlier. So did the idea of watching the fireworks from the hotel terrace. The front desk warned us that with the surrounding buildings and the hill itself, we’d almost certainly see nothing.
That left one option: Plaça d’Espanya. Entering the new year together with more than a hundred thousand people. Our only real concern was safety, which later turned out to be completely unfounded.
Around ten in the evening, we left the hotel and walked the short kilometer toward the square. The moment we stepped onto the main avenue, crowds were flowing on both sides of the street. Before long, the road was closed off with police barricades. We found a spot by the railing of the roundabout and waited. At first, not much was happening, just music playing in the background. Every now and then, a vendor passed by selling glowing trinkets, while the police presence was constant.
The area between the Venetian Towers and the Magic Fountain was already packed by the time we arrived.
The roundabout filled up minute by minute, families with strollers included. The whole celebration stayed calm and orderly. There was no sense of danger, barely any alcohol to be seen, though every now and then the smell of weed drifted through the air.
The waiting dragged on. Nia was getting sleepier by the minute. And then…
Ten minutes before midnight, it began. First came the drone show, something we were seeing for the first time. In the final moments, the drones formed ten circles, and one disappeared every second. Then, exactly at midnight, the fireworks launched. For a good fifteen minutes, the sky over Montjuïc lit up.
