I am still so confused by the stores here. I think I’ve walked this Carrer at least five times now and every time I walk through, I see new stores open or stores that I thought were open, closed. Despite whether Google says they are open or not, I’ve come to realize that I guess people here take those opening hours as “suggestions” vs. rules. I’ve also given up on trying to “plan” out the days. Better to have a short list of possibilities and let the day happen as it comes. Much like this whole trip.

I think here people have loose interpretations of time and day. What that leaves them with is a lot of room for improvisation of the day into creative moments.  After trying to “plan” to see places over and over again, I come to realization that I need to stop trying to make things happen and just start moving with the flow of what I’m actually meant to see. Again, I guess this is the universe or God’s way of telling me, “just trust where I am taking you.”

The only decision I make today, will be that today will be a day of seeking art. Whether it’s through museums, street art or just feeling artistic, I’m feeling inspired to just indulge my senses.

—

MUSEO PICASSO:

Museo Picasso is quite fascinating. Located in an old castle, I’m wondering how much Picasso you could ACTUALLY see. How many twisted faces, morphed bodies and cubist lines can you stare at before you get cross-eyed? (Hint: You’ll see a lot more faster if you buy tickets online :))

As I wander the museum, I start writing down “AHAs” in my notebook:

AHA #1: Turns out all the Creative and Artistic GENIUSES had multiple wives/spouses/marriages. (Ha! Maybe I’m on my way to creative genius?)

AHA #2: Picasso was a prolific painter of varying diversity that evolved. Hard lines or blurred lines, he did it all. He started out with portraits, charcoal sketches, sketches on cigarette paper and designed menus. Before his brand PICASSO was PICASSO, his art started out totally different and more classic in form before he became known for morphed lines and edges. (Maybe that means it’s ok that we don’t choose our style of art in the beginning…it’s going to evolve anyway…just create. A lot.)

AHA #3: Picasso saw the same thing you did, but just with a different perspective. His reinterpretation of famous painters was fascinating. But he wasn’t afraid to take on the work and share his POV on someone else’s view of the world. (Maybe that means that creation is constant recreation. I can do that.)

—-

After leaving the museum, I run into street artist that is selling art off a clothesline hung against the brick wall. His prints are modern, contemporary and quite engaging. A couple of his prints stop me and arrest me in my tracks.

“Is that an eyeball? Or an Iris? Made of roots?”

“Yes. That was inspired by how deep you look into ones eyes.”

“What is the meaning behind the woman made of stars and the unzipping of her dress?”

“That was inspired by a girl I loved. And that’s just what I saw when she finally let me see into her soul.”

I bought those two prints for $20. Best money I’ve spent so far (other than the gelato of course).

AHA #4: Today is a day where I feel “devastatingly inspired.” Devastating because I know that once my trip is over and when I return home, the devastation will come with the inspiration escaping me as I settle back to the normal routine.

AHA #5: Days three & four are usually the days in which I start to settle and feel comfortable with a city. I start to feel my groove and I can feel my soul start to melt with the spirit of a city. I start to notice the patterns of the people who weave the culture of the city. I start to gravitate towards a certain neighborhood or spot that starts to feel homey to me. I also start to recognize the locals in the neighborhood who remember my face and make me feel welcome to my temporary “home” for the week.

If for some reason I am mistaken for a local, that’s when I know I’ve hit the stride of my new adopted city. That is when the art starts to stir inside of me…and it is evident by the fact that I have been able to write freely while I’ve been here in a long time.

I decide to head to Park Cituadella to see more “art”. Parks to me are an artistic amalgamation of humans & nature and more often than not, you’ll usually find street music, performers or just moments of beauty. As I walk towards the famous fountain in the middle of the park, I suddenly see another visual strike of inspiration in the form of string & soapy water.

I think America should have more street performers that entertain people in the form of bubbles. In the perfect golden sunlight, a quiet and modest man pulls out a GIANT bubble wand constructed of two sticks and string perfectly tied to create giant bubbles. He dips his wand in a large bowl of bubbly potion and starts to waft his wand through the air.

Iridescent & shiny orbs become airborne. The gynmastics of bubble making is quite precise. Too much wind and you risk breaking the delicate tension of air & liquid. Not enough wind you risk losing your bubble and the possibility of it birthing into the wind. The art involved with making giant bubbles (while staying focused & non-distracted from a ton of photographers trying to catch a perfect blissful insta-moment) is quite delicate.

Kids start to frolic towards the iridescent orbs floating above them. They giggle uncontrollably while the bubbles burst over their heads. The complete unbridled joy they exude creates a swell of contentment in my heart.

THIS is what we need more of in life.

He puts his hat out to collect tips. I drop in at least five Euro.

Mothers now start approaching him asking for requests to make more bubbles so they can take pictures. They call him “Bubble Man.”

But in my mind, he is actually a Bubble Artist. And a creator of Joy.