41.3833 N, 2.1833 E: Barcelona, Spain

Wandering aimlessly through the precarious streets of Barcelona for about forty minutes, my dad had to find a Spain chip for his unlocked mobile device. We stumbled across a main street with a Vodafone and waiting impatiently on the curb my eyes were captivated by the hundreds of Spanish kids wearing red, blue and hints of yellow.

What were they waiting for? Were they waiting for the bus? Is this an after school field trip?

My dad comes out of the Vodafone and says, “Odd. The guy inside who sold me the chip wanted to know if we were staying around to see a mess?”

Really??? I shrieked with excitement as a jumped up and down like an exuberant little Spanish kid. “He must mean Lionel Messi from the FC Barcelona fútbol team! There must have been a huge win!”

We serendipitously arrived at a historic moment for the city of Barcelona. We were about to experience a sea of blue and red fanatics, Spanish-style.

FC Barcelona had just earned their 22nd Spanish Liga title on May 13th beating out Real Madrid by one glorious goal. The victory parade was to begin at the port of Barcelona and end at Placa Doctor Ignasi Barraquer, taking a four-kilometer tour of the city.

“What was just as exciting for me to experience was that their women’s team also won. It was their second consecutive league title and they’d be equally riding the bus that led the extravagant parade.”

First a horse guard of gorgeous Andalusians and police swept the street beautifully. Each synced hoof movement by the grand steeds was an art in itself. They are the chosen ones to pave the road for the champions, majestically promenading on top of the cobblestones with dignity and prestige. In unison, thousands of Spanish fans chanted and sung with elation the team’s anthem “El Cant del Barca.”

Leading the champions fleet was a small truck tossing out free flags that combined Barca’s colors and the Catalan flag. Without hesitation I darted into the middle of the street amongst the wave of Spanish kids, parents and grandparents. I followed the moving vehicle, jumping up and down—anticipating the moment my eyes would meet theirs. Trailing behind the eclectic mass; I missed a flag that came close to my right fingertips.

“I was determined. This was game time. I had to earn a flag.”

Remembering my springy high school track legs from training as a jumper and above average wingspan arms; I shrieked “Over here!” My browns met a flag thrower’s intensely and then suddenly airborne comes inbound a lobbed flag towards the left side of my body. Vertically bound in mid-air I reach my go-go gadget left arm and clench on for dear life. I peered down at my sweaty palm. I actually caught it. After the brilliant parade has passed, I stood as if I had won a champions parade, proudly and radiantly shining in the street with my FC Barcelona team flag. I held it high victoriously.

“It’s amazing what you can experience in a matter of seconds when you are present to its beauty. Some are worth capturing and rising to its highest peak. And sometimes you end up in the perfect place in time.”

I owe my gratitude to dad who had to have that chip right then and there. Muchas gracias.

In a few weeks I head back to Barcelona for my second trip. With my dear friend from Maui, Hawaii I’ll experience the most famous fútbol team in the world and watch FC Barcelona take on Valencia. Olé!

FC Barcelona fcbarcelona.com