Zaragoza, Spain

Now that I can successfully navigate BCN I decided it's been far too long since I was last hopelessly lost, meaning it was time to plan an adventure. I was unable to take advantage of not having classes on Friday due to obligations that night, meaning that instead of having a three day weekend to travel, I only had two days (you're pitying me, I know). I decided to go to Zaragoza, the capital of the Aragón region, without much reason behind it other than being a short and cheap bus ride away .

A little pronunciation explanation for those of you who struggle with Spanish (I'm looking at you, Dad): Every country other than Spain would pronounce this city as "sah-rah-GO-sah". However, I chose to study in the Spanish speaking country with an affinity for a rare verb form (we can talk about that later) and a strong lisp, so it's pronounced "thar-ah-GO-thah".

Speaking of Spanish accents: it's only been three weeks and I already have one. It's apparently noticeable enough for my Colombian and Argentinian flatmates to tease me about how cute it is. I said it wasn't going to happen but I've decided to accept my new speech impediment and am proudly slurring every "S" that I encounter.

I managed to forget how easily buses make me sick and was still coping with the lingering effects of having the world spinning when I arrived in Zaragoza on Saturday morning. My group and I wandered around the city for several hours, finding things to look at here and there, but I couldn't help but miss BCN. The buildings were pretty, the Roman ruins were cool, and the museums were interesting enough, but the city just didn't live up to the image I had created. When coupled with the cold and cloudy day I was admittedly unimpressed and ready to leave after a few hours.

I decided that if anything was going to fix my attitude it would be food, so we picked a restaurant with churros and chocolate in the hopes that food would be Zaragoza's saving grace. Let me just say that the Spanish know how to eat dessert. They bring you a heap of fried deliciousness accompanied by an entire cup of melted chocolate, and if that's not enough to brighten your day I don't know what is.

By the time we were done gorging ourselves on chocolate, it was dark outside and I discovered that night time and a sugar rush do wonderful things to a city. The initially underwhelming town was like a completely difference place: the plazas were full of people, every neighborhood was buzzing with energy and the street musicians were as lively as ever. You can blame it on the twinkle lights, but we were inspired to go from restaurant to restaurant in search of the best €1 tapas in town and finished out the night pretty happy with Zaragoza.

I set about town on Sunday morning willing to give the city a second chance. Things were off to a promising start when I found a small art fair and the sun managed to break through the clouds. Right as I was starting to change my opinion for the better about Zaragoza, we discovered that everything is closed on Sundays. Everything. Without notice or reason, we couldn't find a single place of interest that was open. With nothing else to do and six hours before the bus was scheduled to leave, we rushed to the station and changed our tickets with only ten minutes to spare before the earlier departure.

This short excursion taught me quite a bit about expectations — and how to lower them. A quick Pinterest search of Zaragoza brings up magical looking caves and centuries-old Muslim architecture. Those magical caves? Actually a couple hours away by bus. The breathtaking palace? Not open on Sundays during the winter. That art museum with all the Goya originals? Closed for the afternoon, lo siento. Was any of this information online? Nope. I learned the valuable lesson that many of Spain's attractions don't update their websites and no amount of planning will help you when confronted with a "closed" sign. I learned that ugly buildings do actually exist in Spain if you leave the historic city center. I learned that while Spain does not suffer from a lack of museums, it does have a severe lack of opening hours. Don't get me wrong — it wasn't all bad. I saw the most beautiful church of my life (no photos allowed unfortunately) and booked a really cool hotel, it was just disappointing to find that the city didn't measure up to what I had anticipated.

This is going to sound super cliché but stick with me: most importantly, I learned how much Barcelona means to me. The relief I felt when we were able to go back early proved that this place really is my home, and this really is my life. For the time being, wherever I travel and no matter how dull my trips may be I still have this wonderful city to return to. And that's a great feeling.