Best laid plans and Barcelona

 

Best laid plans and Barcelona

What is it they say about the best laid plans of mice and men? At 16, I had my future all mapped out. At 17, there was an unexpected twist in the plot. At 19, things looked to be getting back on track and I began a law degree at the venerable institution that is the University of Newcastle upon Tyne (I still refuse to use its re-branded name of Newcastle University). I had plans of being a high-flying international lawyer, but what I hadn’t realised was how mind-numbingly boring law is as a subject. Two weeks into the course, I came to the conclusion that I had made a massive mistake and had condemned myself to three years studying a subject I despised.

I thought about dropping out, but having already taken a gap year, I was scared of falling further behind. So I stuck with it; doing just enough to stay on course for the 2.1 that would apparently open so many doors. After two years with my head buried in books that held no interest for me, I was told that I had to arrange a work placement, in order to gain the “commercial awareness” necessary for a profession I had no intention to enter. I managed to secure a couple of weeks’ work experience with an international law firm in London. However, a month before I was due to start, they called to say that they could no longer accommodate me on the London scheme, but given that I spoke Spanish, they could arrange for me to work in the Barcelona office.

I’d never been to Barcelona, but a few weeks there was surely going to be better than being sat at home in Sheffield. So I accepted the offer and booked the flights. I won’t go into detail about the placement. No one finds reviewing thousands of pages of documents interesting, though many of my university compatriots will say they do. But the purpose of the trip was to learn, and I learnt one of the most important lessons of my life; more valuable to my future career than any amount of commercial awareness. I learnt that sometimes what happens when things don’t go to plan is far better than when things go without a hitch, and that making the best of such situations is a valuable life skill. Rather than being stuck in a characterless office off Fleet Street, I jumped feet first into a new and exciting city, overflowing with colour and culture.

I was one of a pitifully small percentage of the billions of people in the world that would experience the majesty of Barcelona, and I’d ended up there by dint of sticking with a course I hated. The lining of my cloud was not silver, but Gaudi-inspired ceramic, undulating like the exterior of La Pedrera; illuminated like the dancing fountains near the Placa Espanya. It took me 21 years to realise that I am one of the lucky ones. Everything about the city was new and exciting, including the new friends I met there, drawn from the four corners of the earth (well, three corners. There was no antipodean representative in our merry band!). I couldn’t wait to finish in the office so that I could go out and get lost. Wandering aimlessly in the early hours of the morning was a religious experience.

Anything was possible and all was right with the world. I wept when I left Barcelona, and felt bereft for two years until my next visit. Despite the fact that I have spent less than a month of my almost 30 years there, whenever I arrive in Barcelona, it feels like I’ve come home. There are other great cities, of course, but I am yet to come across one that inspires the overwhelming sense of possibility that Barcelona does. It taught me to appreciate beauty and opportunity, and every step I take on its cobbled streets, makes me thankful that I am one of the lucky few that life’s great lottery has allowed to fall under its spell.

Aidan Parsons, Australia

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