I stepped out for the first time in 101 days on Saturday. Driving through the streets made me realise how much I’ve missed being able to step out with perhaps not a real purpose or agenda in mind. Just the want to walk around, to discover, to get lost. It brought to mind an exercise I did in Barcelona just shortly after moving there. I created a reportage assignment for myself as a way to discover where I had left all things known to move to. It birthed the desire to be able to do this for a living: write and draw about different cities I travel to alone. So as a homage to the city that introduced me to myself, and in the spirit of travel even if it may be through memory, I’m publishing that piece here.
Footprints | November 2015
Barcelona: a city most famous for its nightlife, its architecture, its art, and its alcohol. In fact, it is the sixth-most popular city in the European Union after London, Paris, Rome, Dublin, and Madrid. It attracts close to 8 million tourists a year, and is the third most visited city in Europe - 10th in the world. And why not? The city is a fabulous blend of historical grandeur and contemporary magnetism. Think of it as an intricate weave of classical music and modern jazz together to form one tapestry. For anyone who arrives here, the city boasts of its art, architecture, heritage, food, roadways, transport, music, and dance. Its people are warm, welcoming, and broadminded to a level unknown to most other cities. It is also the leading Smart City in Europe, making it the easiest to navigate around, and stay connected to the rest of the world.
Las Palomas de Plaça Catalunya (The Pigeons of Plaza Catalunya) | November 2015
It’s easy, then, to believe that one can’t disassociate people with Barcelona - where finding a moment of quiet away from the people and the sounds is not a possibility. But look again. Look closer still. Look between the bricks, the cobbled stone, the laughing tourists, the squealing children. Look between the pedestrian, the cyclist, and man sitting on the side of the road. Look towards the birds.
One of the biggest tourist attractions in Barcelona are the palomas - the pigeons. These birds are spotted everywhere: on park benches, toddling across crossings, in the plazas, at the bus-stops. They are so used to human company now that they do not flinch when approached by someone at all; a domesticated wild bird. They are fed by tourist and resident alike, so much so that it has now become a ‘must-do’ quoted in various guide books as a part of the quintessential tourist itinerary.
I wandered around Plaça Catalunya, Barcelona’s giant central square. It has stalls set up around its circumference where one can buy birdseed to feed the pigeons. It’s the one place where you can walk into a sea of birds and none of them will fly away… If at all, they shuffle slightly to either side to get out of the way, but on the whole, they do not budge. It is a tourist’s delight being able to feed these pigeons literally out of the palms of their hands, where the birds sit on their shoulders, or knees, or outstretched arms in order to get an extra mouthful of seed. In Gracia, the birds cross the road at a green signal along with their human companions, across the zebra crossing. I had one accompany me all the way back home from the metro station on its two legs. Half way through our stroll, I began to wonder if perhaps it had hurt itself and couldn’t fly. On gently shooing at it, I realised this was a choice it had made, because it indignantly flapped its wings at me and took off down the road. (And when I say “took off”, I mean skimmed the pavement for a few meters and then started shuffling down the road again, but here I digress!)
Passeig de Gracia | November 2015
From an observational point of view, to me these pigeons are synonymous with the city - a metaphor of the people and the lives that come together in this metropolis. In some pockets there are so many; such social creatures, interacting with one another, and with all the other beings present in the area. There is a lot of sound, a lot of chatter, a lot of flapping, a lot of movement. In areas where the food intake is higher, the varieties and the colours of the pigeons increase exponentially. Small ones, fat ones, speckled ones, brown, grey, silver, white. Some that shove others out of the way, some that steal straight out of the bag, some that share, and some that hang around the periphery of the commotion.
In other areas, where roads are deserted and the footfall is reserved for only those who actually live in these areas, the pigeons are different. Leaner in structure and definitely not as friendly, these birds choose to sit on perches beyond than human reach - balconies, lamp-posts, or broken walls alike. They sit on their perches and observe the goings-on without engaging in it too much. The interaction with their human counterparts seem to be more ‘real’ - more to do with either being shooed away from laundry and food, or that of ignored co-existence.
Parc de Ciutadella | November 2015
And to me, that is the strongest metaphor of the city I have encountered. Having arrived here alone with the purpose of staying here alone for a while, my interaction with the city has been quite like one of these birds. Choosing to either engage with the more social side of things, or choosing to explore areas not plotted out on a map - the experience of Barcelona has been that of quiet solitude. Where, sometimes, you are loneliest amidst the crowd. I have been to Parc de Ciutadella - one of the Barcelona’s largest parks - and felt completely alone: there may as well have not been anyone else around. Clambering up to the top of the fountain, I wedged myself in between two large stones, just above the hippocampus, looking down upon the park and its guests. A soft cooing to my left, and the sounds of the water rushing out. Every other human sound becoming blank noise.
I have walked the cobbled streets of El Gotico, walking into the cathedral stunned by its grandeur and obvious reverence - but the spaces that took my breath away were the narrow streets between two areas completely devoid of people. Except for perhaps another lone bird, looking for itself.
The Harpist | November 2015