In that shop, where works by up-and-coming ceramic artists and traditional pottery were displayed haphazardly, I vaguely observed the way different eras intersected.
At the time, the Tower of Jesus Christ didn’t exist. It was the fall of 2019. To be precise, it was there, but still hidden behind smaller towers. I went there on a long weekend, simply to stroll around Barcelona and soak up the Catalan atmosphere. I had never been there before, but like many others, I knew there well through countless photos, TV shows, movies, the Olympics, and, interestingly, a Queen song.
I was working in France and decided to go somewhere on the weekend. Anywhere would have been fine, but Barcelona, which I knew well, seemed interesting. The deciding factor was the flight. For only 50 euros, there was no reason to hesitate. Although, a mid-night taxi fare also costed 50 euros, so the cheap flight was somewhat pointless.
Watching the magnificent completion ceremony and mass of the Tower of Jesus on television was a deeply moving experience. It’s not often you get the chance to experience history in real time.