#1915 Barcelona

As you know, there was a terrorist attack in Barcelona, Spain on Thursday. A f*cking terrorist drove a van down Las Ramblas (although I have always called it La Rambla) and killed 13 people and injured 80 others. From the moment the news popped up on my beloved iPhone, followed quickly by a text from my sister, I was glued to the news. I pulled up a couple of Spanish newspapers online and even though my Spanish isn't very good, I was able to get an idea about what was going on as the papers were updating the situation every few minutes. I looked at reports from the BBC and Reuters and CNN and the Associated Press. I obsessively followed the #Barcelona thread on Twitter. It was very difficult to focus on my work. I was sad and scared and upset and angry.

All terrorist attacks are terrible. I mourn a little each time it happens. Paris, Nice, Brussels, London, Charlottesville and others - every time an asshole purposely drives a vehicle into a crowd of people with the intent to kill, hurt and scare humans, I am outraged and saddened and yes, frightened. I will check the news reports after attacks happen, but I don't drop everything to follow a moment-by-moment news feed.

Here's the thing though: I've been to Barcelona. I knew exactly where the attack happened. I could see it all vividly in my mind. It was just two years ago that my sister, my mom and I strolled along La Rambla. In fact, it was the first place we went on our second day in the city. (We probably would have gone there the first day but we stayed in our neighborhood and got over the jet lag.) I remember when we got out of the metro (subway) station and crossed the street to La Rambla. All three of us just stood there looking at it and smiling.

Strangely, this is the only picture I could find that I took of La Rambla. It is not very busy in this photo because it was pretty early in the day, probably around 10AM. We walked up several blocks and then turned left and went into the Barri Gotic. We were looking for a place to have breakfast (churros!) that my mom remembered. We ended up back on La Rambla that day and the next day and the next day. I remember thinking each time that it would probably be the last time we would walk on that street during the trip every time we walked on it, but we always ended up there. We bought souvenirs on this street and ate ice cream. I bought an iPhone cover and a scarf. La Rambla is great. Busy and crowded, but pretty great.

The terrorist attack on my favorite city felt personal in a way. I've never been to the other places that have been terrorized, but I know Barcelona and I hated that it was violated by this ugliness.

Today I heard on the news that the terrorists were planning to detonate a bomb in the city. As awful and horrific as yesterday's events were, the thought of a bomb going off in Barcelona makes me ill. Screw you, terrorists. You suck. Go back to your f-ing holes, dirtbags.