The more time has passed here at the dig, the more I’ve contemplated crawling into a grave for the next archeological group to excavate/find me—I damn near tripped my way into one! The work, the traveling, trying to spend every minute with our archeological family, etc., it was all catching up to me. But what do you do when you only have one month (less than even) in this Mediterranean paradise? I guess for me that meant that naps turned into beach trips and optional dine-outs became social necessities. At the time it felt right, so I followed my gut just as our group had promised in the beginning of the trip.
This is the end, however, because now that every page has been written (“set in stone” y’could say), it appears that our book is now complete—that is to say, we can finally reflect on this experience. It’d be a crime to summarize this experience, so I’ll just touch on our weekend in Barcelona.
At first glance, either from the view in the sky or from below, it appears that the city is always moving. Then on the metro, in the streets, anywhere in the city, it is still moving. Everyone is just their own fish, either independently swimming or schooling. And in our first walk through BCN, lost and confused, true tourist inexperience showed as we struggled to figure our way through the tunnels of the metro, all while people around us glanced at us silly Americans. At the time, I thought about what they might’ve been thinking about us, but after getting out into the streets and seeing “TOURISTS GO HOME” graffitied all over the city, I knew plenty.
We had a great hostel where we met a lot of people (recent-grads, businesspeople, tourists) who are constantly coming in and out, and our wonderful host who was always happy to share points of interest, food spots, and held events for all guests of the Sant Jordi Hostel.
Barcelona was a nice get-away from the archeological work, where we were still able to tap into some of the theological questions during our museum trips—but I will be honest: that wasn’t always in the forefront of my mind. In this first-time-EU trip, I kind of got lost in another world, and I purposefully let myself do so as to experience something that I’m not sure when I’ll get back to. The history was interesting, the archeological work more, but at the end of each day, the thing I reflected on the most was on all the people who I had met/got to know a little more, people that I might not ever see again after this trip. Which sounds hopeless, but I assure you, it’s just a matter of being realistic. Some of the students I met wish to become art curators or even own a gallery themselves, others are unsure (like myself). Our archeological bosses have found their home, the younger ones intend to continue traveling, expose themselves to other worlds. We even got to know our Moroccan co-workers in the dirt (and less through words). It’s a strange feeling to meet people who are so different yet so similar, to share so much in a brief moment, something that seems to have come and went in an instant. It’s all just a memory at this point which makes you appreciate whatever comes next.
I asked Nicole, one of our recent grads (and who’s traveled to a bunch of places), about this and they said that it’s natural to feel these things, especially during your first time traveling. And it’s natural to meet people that you might even end up having a deep connection with. But sometimes, given life circumstances or whatever, those experiences are meant to be just that—an experience of the moment. I told Nicole that “that seems kind of sad,” but they said that “Sure, it is… but to be able to share your world with theirs in such a short time, and then to continue on your own path with a new perspective, that’s what makes it beautiful.”
