Barcelona: I Stayed for the People, but I Think I Fell for the City

After months of bouncing between Latin America and beach towns with more coconuts than clocks, I landed in Europe again. Barcelona this time. I know—it’s not original. Every third digital nomad ends up here eventually, claiming it changed their life after one plate of patatas bravas. But still, I came.

And I stayed.

I told myself I was here to reset: reconnect with family in the same time zone, speak languages I actually speak, and eat food that didn’t require me to Google the ingredients. But the truth is, it felt good to be somewhere familiar. Europe is home. Sort of. Close enough to feel grounded, far enough from my actual apartment to still count as travel.

Barcelona was supposed to be a short stop. Two weeks, max. See a few friends, get some work done, move on. Instead, it turned into two months, a new rhythm, and a surprising attachment I wasn’t planning on.

Work was easy here. Good cafés, real coworking spaces, and a pace that’s productive without feeling like everyone’s one missed Slack message away from a meltdown. Calls in the morning, espresso in the afternoon, a walk by the beach when I needed to clear my head. Simple, efficient, no complaints.

And then there were the people.

Friends of friends. Cousins of coworkers. People I met at dinner who invited me out again before dessert. It’s a social city without the small talk. I ended up with a group I actually liked, which for me—someone who’s always half-packed and halfway gone—is rare.

There was also someone else. Let’s just say the wife search briefly looked promising. She was Catalan, smarter than me, and made fun of my French accent when I ordered in Spanish. It didn’t go anywhere, but for a week or two, it was enough to consider what staying might look like.

The city crept in slowly. The beach in the morning. The chaos of Gothic Quarter at night. The way the whole city moves like it knows it doesn’t need to try too hard—it’s Barcelona. It’s already cool.

Would I move here? Probably not. I don’t stay anywhere long enough to sign a lease.

Would I come back? Definitely.

Sometimes, the places you plan to pass through are the ones that pull at you the most.

Barcelona felt familiar. The food, the humor, the late dinners that turned into long conversations. It didn’t try to sell me anything. It just existed. And I think that’s why I liked it.