Barcelona was a fitting location for the start of my Camino. 

For the uninitiated the Camino de Santiago, or in English the Way of St. James, is a network of pilgrims' ways or pilgrimages leading to the shrine of the apostle James in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwestern Spain, where tradition holds that the remains of the apostle are buried.

Barcelona lived up to and exceeded my expectations, assaulting my senses with a constant cacophony of colour, sounds, smells, tastes and sights. Especially the exuberant and juicy architecture.  

Unfettered by a tyrannical bureaucracy, which Australians are well used to, the city let rip on every level, yet managed to remain, gentle and civilized. This was one full- blooded, vibrant city with so much to see and absorb. I found it, in a very sweet way…overwhelming. 

The locals, who became exasperated when we couldn’t understand their language, just shouted louder and louder, apparently believing that an increase in volume equated to an increase in comprehension. In reverse, Americans do much the same. 

Walking through the old city taking in the ambience, one could conjure up all that had transpired in that small space: Roman domination, Catholic domination, domination of the Americas. It all reeked of domination. Not in the usual detrimental way but with a flamboyance that rendered it forgivable. 

The works of Gaudi were everywhere. He was best known for his transcendence of the modernism of his day, combining architecture, religion and nature to produce creations that reflect those passions. 

The Sagrada Familia Basilica is the most highly recognised of Gaudi’s work, unfinished as it is. I had seen it in books and decided that it was sloppy, cluttered with all sorts of aberrations dangling from every nook and cranny. 

Only when I entered that sacred space did I start to understand the profundity of what he had built. A vast, cool and extravagant interior that amplified the eternal mysteries. 

The droves of visitors who talked in hushed tones are supplied with earphones that deliver a commentary which ingeniously takes them through the deeper levels and meanings of the design. I found myself riveted, going deeper and deeper into this amazing space. I was astonished by his intellect and spirituality.

The markets were another unforgettable experience. Rack upon rack groaned under the weight of fresh vegetables, seafood, cheeses and breads. I wondered how the locals found enough time to consume so much on offer.  

I soon found out that available time is not a problem for the Spanish. One of the cornerstones of their culture is the daily ritual of siesta. Business closes at 2pm and opens at 4pm. In the rural areas however the 4pm opening is often quietly forgotten. I felt so at home in this boisterous yet unhurried city.