Entry 08
Muh muh muh my Girona.
In late September, I found that as much as I love being in Barcelona on the weekends it was time to go somewhere new. I embarked on a train journey, just a brisk 45 minutes away, to the captivating city of Girona. To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure what awaited me on this trip. I knew of the ancient city wall that partially encircled Girona, the accessibility it offered, and the perks my Catalan teacher card provided—free entry to most city museums. Other than that, I was open to following the whims of the moment.
Arriving in Girona at about 9:30, I began my exploration on foot. Meandering through the older quarters of the city, I strolled without a set path. I played left, right, or center with myself at every intersection, trying to find my way toward areas unexpected. For the most part I was alone. I discovered narrow passages and trails that led me up onto the city wall. It was a serene start; I seemed to be among the first to enjoy the cool morning breeze while exploring watchtowers and soaking in the picturesque city views. I was grateful for this early venture, knowing that the increasing heat later in the day might have curbed my time up there.
My favorite discovery I made along the wall was a tranquil spot where trumpet vines gracefully cascaded down from the other side. The sight of these trumpet vines brought back poignant memories of my childhood. My grandparents had massive trumpet vines that grew up two columns at the entry of their home. These blooms have become intertwined with my recollections of that house and my late grandfather, an avid gardener. It was a surprisingly emotional experience to encounter this symbol of my past so far from home. This journey to Girona marked my first solo travel since my move, a venture that naturally brought some discomfort. Yet, stumbling upon these familiar flowers felt like a subtle nod of approval from my grandfather, a reassurance for the new adventure I was embarking upon.
During the final stretch along the wall, I caught the distant beats of a drumline resonating from the city below. Intrigued, I followed the sound, stumbling upon a mini parade featuring a youth drumline and gigantes, large paper maché figures joyfully parading through the streets. One of the things I love about Spanish culture is that people rarely stand on the sidewalk and watch as these parades happen. Rather than being mere spectators, people actively joined the parade, walking and dancing along before eventually parting ways.
Serendipitously, I stumbled upon a quaint antiques market and indulged in browsing for an hour, contemplating a visit to the church. Opting instead for the cool interiors of a museum, I explored both the Jewish History Museum and the Girona History Museum, learning what I could with my elementary Spanish.
As my hunger grew, I located a delightful pizza place. With a glass of white wine in hand, I relished a delicious pizza and took a moment to pen a couple of postcards to send home. Sitting adjacent to a couple who effortlessly devoured personal pizzas before sharing a pasta dish, I couldn’t help but marvel at how everyone manages to stay so slender here!
I visited the art museum after lunch. Entry was free as it was the last Saturday of the month. They had local weaving artists holding workshops throughout the space. It was fun to see such a traditionally quiet place so lively. There was a film crew there documenting the whole day. Check it out via this link if you like. My favorite part of the museum was the ornate furniture they had on display. I couldn’t help but wish that I could steal a desk and bring it home with me on the train.
As the time for my train home approached, I sought out a square to savor an Aperol spritz, journal, and read, relishing those moments before my journey back home—truly, my favorite way to spend an afternoon, whether in Spain or elsewhere.
