Lost in Barcelona

Hanging with Pooky on the Barceloneta Beach, Barcelona

The following is an excerpt from my travel story “Lost in Barcelona” published in Wanderlust—Journal. The link at the bottom will take you to their website where you can read the full story or purchase the anthology and read the travel story (and others) in print.

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I had known it was a little risky wandering off in a foreign city without cell service, but I hadn’t intended to go so far. I had mistakenly thought we would simply walk in a big square around the outside of the buildings that made up the inner courtyard. With a few left turns we’d be back at the front of our flat. 

Except the buildings of this ancient city aren’t placed in the neat shape of a square. The lanes we traversed had off-shoots in unexpected directions and even dead ends. I repeatedly had to guess which way I should turn to keep traveling in the direction I felt I needed to go. It wasn’t long before our little exploration had turned into an alarming adventure, for me anyway. Pooky was content just to take it all in. We walked on, and I worked hard to keep my cool.

I was lost in Barcelona. I barely spoke Spanish. Definitely not Catalán. I had no map and no phone. I started looking around for friendly faces I could approach for directions, but the avenues were mostly deserted during the siesta. We were not in a touristy area, so there was no guarantee the people I did stop would speak English. I started trying to come up with Spanish words I could use. I didn’t know how to say “lost” or “flat,” I could try “mi casa,” but that wouldn’t help them. In my heightened state of alarm, I couldn’t remember the name of the street our apartment was on. 

Again, I stopped walking. Pooky took the opportunity to scramble down my leg. An orange flower growing out of the cracks of the cobblestone had caught her attention. She squatted and peered at it with the kind of intense scrutiny only a toddler can muster. She leaned in closer and gave a big sniff. She tentatively reached out a finger and touched it. She grinned up at me. I couldn’t help but smile back. If only I’d brought my camera. But I hadn’t brought anything but the apartment key.

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This travel story was first published in the travel anthology book Wanderlust:Explore, Write, Inspire. You can read the story in its entirety in their online journal. Wanderlust-a Travel Journal here. Or purchase a copy here.