Barcelona: Spain Day 1

Getting There

Getting to Barcelona was an adventure long before our feet even touched European soil. It all started with one of the hardest chapters of my life — getting medical clearance for my son to travel. Just two weeks before our whirlwind trip through Spain, Morocco, Portugal, and London, he was diagnosed with epilepsy.

Even now, writing those words makes my chest tighten. The diagnosis had come after a terrifying week in the children’s hospital — endless tests, sleepless nights, and that helpless feeling every parent dreads: watching your baby endure something you can’t fix. Three weeks before our planned departure, I sat beside his hospital crib, surrounded by beeping machines, him connected to machines with wire leads attached to his tiny body, the sterile hum of fluorescent lights, and the footsteps of nurses, neurologists, and others throughout the day, wondering if our dreams of travel would have to be put on hold.

Hospital Stay

My family thought it was madness to go through with the trip. They meant well, of course. “Maybe you should cancel,” they said gently, then my grandma more firmly, voice filled with worry. “It’s too soon. What if something happens?”

But canceling wasn’t an option, not for me. I needed this trip like I needed air. After everything that had happened, the uncertainty, the hospital stays, and the emotional rollercoaster. I needed to prove to myself that I could still do this. That we could do this. That life, even with epilepsy in the picture, didn’t have to stop.

He deserved to see the world, too. To feel the sunshine, the motion of airplanes, and the wonder of somewhere new, especially after being surrounded by hospital walls. So, with medical clearance, his medications packed carefully in a labeled pouch, doctors’ instructions printed and folded neatly, and an extra layer of faith tucked into my carry-on, I made the choice. We were going—just the two of us.

 The Journey Begins

He was strapped securely to me, warm and sleepy against my chest as we made our way through the airport. I gate-checked the stroller — one less thing to juggle — and kept his diaper backpack as my carry-on. The gate agent smiled when she saw us, maybe sensing the determination in my eyes, and checked my over-stuffed rolling bag free of charge. Little mercies.

Dallas Fort Worth Airport

Our journey to Barcelona began with a layover at DFW (Dallas–Fort Worth Airport) — a place that now lives in my personal hall of fame for “airports I hope never to navigate again.” Between the maze-like terminals, the tram system, and flight connections scattered across different buildings, it felt like a scavenger hunt designed by someone with a cruel sense of humor. I’ve since promised myself never to route through DFW again. That promise has already been broken twice, and both times confirmed why I made it.

Then came the two-hour delay — every parent’s test of patience. Keeping a 14-month-old entertained in an airport terminal is… well, character-building. There were diaper changes (two, thankfully, solids while on solid ground), endless rounds of snacks, and stroller laps around the gate to ward off meltdowns. He watched planes take off, his little fingers pointing at the sky, eyes wide with curiosity. And despite the exhaustion, I felt a flicker of gratitude for my chill, go-with-the-flow travel buddy. We were doing it.

Up in the Air

When we finally boarded, I settled into our window seat — my preferred spot. I like having something to lean against, a view to get lost in, and fewer elbows brushing past on their way to the bathroom. The hum of the engines soothed us both. I’ve always avoided using the plane restroom unless necessary, but on this nine-and-a-half-hour flight, there was no way to prevent it. I made one trip, using the chance to change him midair. A pee diaper. A small victory that felt monumental in that cramped little space.

He slept on and off throughout the flight, his tiny hand gripping my shirt, the rise and fall of his breathing reminding me why I’d fought so hard to make this journey possible. Every time I glanced out the window at the endless stretch of sky and clouds. I felt a strange mix of exhaustion and triumph. Just two weeks before, I wasn’t sure we’d make it here. Now, we were somewhere between Texas and Spain. Proof that determination, and maybe a little stubbornness, can move mountains.

When the plane finally touched down in Barcelona, I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding for weeks, and the past month had been a storm. Consisting of a hospital stay, second opinions, medication schedules, uncertainty, and then confirmation. But here we were, standing on new ground. It wasn’t just the start of a trip. It was the start of a new chapter. One where epilepsy won’t define him, no, it won’t define us. But traveling together, surviving together, and choosing hope over fear would. As I held him close in the Barcelona airport, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long while: peace, actual happiness, and excitement.

Travel Tip for Moms on the Move

Use overnight diapers

They’re a game-changer for long flights. They hold more liquid, which means fewer leaks — and fewer outfit changes mid-flight. Trust me, nothing ruins a travel day faster than realizing your baby’s diaper leaked onto your clothes 30,000 feet above the Atlantic.

Seating

I prefer sitting at a window. One, fewer people bumping and passing you, especially if you are flying with a lap infant like me. Two: the window seat. You can put suction-spinning toys on the window, and it's a window. A great way in general to keep the little one occupied. If you can get a bulkhead seat, do it! The extra leg room for you and them to stand up. If flying with a two-and-over, you’re just going to have to suck it up and take a middle seat and let your little one use the window seat. Some airlines allow the inflatable beds. Check with your airline for details.

Landing

Landing in Barcelona was very exciting. It had been over a decade since I had been on the European continent. Yet, here I was, with a fourteen-and-a-half-month-old in tow who was fresh out of the hospital with a fresh epilepsy diagnosis. Was I mental? Maybe, especially after the weeks that came before. I was going to conquer my depression on this trip, and he was going to conquer his epilepsy. Why? Because there was so much to explore, see, do, and people to meet. I had plenty of his medication. I had a very full three-week itinerary of stops and countries that had been planned for the past four months as a lifeline keeping me afloat after finding out my husband had stepped out on our marriage. I had a smartphone and stubborn determination. This trip, and all its planning, was all that was keeping me going, to be honest. Deep down, I knew I was very excited to see, firsthand, the architecture I had studied in art history textbooks, which seemed like a lifetime ago. I was even thinking, well, if my depression gets worse, at least I will have this fantastic photo album of pictures and memories that will remind me that I can do the improbable. Also, this will be one hell of a baby book. But pushing all those thoughts of the past four months aside, it was time to get on the plane, and all that I wanted to do was use the bathroom, change Titian, get to our Airbnb, and explore Barcelona!

Deplaning at Barcelona–El Prat was a blur of jet lag, fluorescent lights, and quiet adrenaline. With my baby strapped to me, I grabbed the diaper backpack, thanked the flight attendants who complimented my son for being such a wonderful passenger, and walked off the stuffy plane. His stroller was waiting for me at the jet bridge. We followed the long, winding path through customs. Passports stamped, questions brief, relief immediate. Baggage claim felt like a small victory as our suitcase appeared right on cue. I collected our very full carry-on and rolled to the bathroom to change him and his outfit to something breezier.

I followed the directions from one of my many researched YouTube videos from ROAD TRIP Spain and Portugal with Tony Galvez, I can take the express bus for a few euros that takes you into the heart of the city and walking distance to the Airbnb. As I pushed the stroller off the bus while wrestling with the rolling duffel, which was weighed down by our backpack. I found a drop of shade and looked at my surroundings. A park area square with a fountain. They seemed to have had an event going on, with lots of signs and adverts, and I took a mental note that the hop-on bus I was interested in was located here. I then had to do the tourist thing and pulled out Google Maps, and began the 15-minute walk into the gothic area to our Airbnb.

It was a 10-minute walk under normal circumstances, but with my precious cargo in his stroller, me pushing him and pulling our duffle bag would be a 15–20-minute adventure into the gothic quarter.

I found the place. Ezequiel, my host, was truly amazing. He came downstairs and carried my bag and the stroller up, while I brought my son and the backpack up. I met his mom, who was in town and was looking forward to meeting my son. He gave me some advice and tips.

Inside our room, I exhaled, inhaled, and set my plan in motion. I changed out of my flight outfit into leggings. I packed the day bag, secured my son in his carrier on my back, and took a deep breath. We were here. Barcelona was waiting—and so was the version of me that refused to give up. I had my wrist wallet ready, phone charged, and was prepared to explore. First stop on this trip, let’s see this city!

Hop on Hop Off Bus

I was only spending two full days in Barcelona, with one of them being a day trip to Tarragona, which is one hour south along the coast. I walked back to where the airport bus dropped me off and grabbed one of the hop-on, hop-off buses to see the city I had researched with Tony Galvez. I used Barcelona Bus Touristic. It was a brilliant idea. I didn’t have to worry about driving, public transportation, or following directions. I got to see the city and was able to hop off at three locations that were of interest.

I took the blue route for the bulk of the time. Then the red route for two main stops that interested me. The wristband is suitable for both the red and the blue routes. Most of what was of interest to me was on the blue route. I got off at Park Güell, and Camp Nou, or FC Barcelona’s stadium. If it hadn’t been renovated at the time we were there, I would have gone in. Park Güell was really cool. The free area at least. I would have bought tickets to enter, but didn’t see the point with it late afternoon and closing in an hour, so there weren’t tons of people there. I enjoyed the outdoor area, walked around for 20 minutes, and hopped on the next bus. We got off at Camp Nou, the football stadium, but it was closed, so basically just hopped back on. We took the red bus back to where I hopped on to begin with. I passed by the Sagrada Família, passed the Olympic Village, and Poblenou, and got off at Cathedral & Plaça Reial near the Gothic Quarter, and searched for the vegan restaurant I had researched. It was also the area near my Airbnb. I skipped the museums on this trip, focusing on being outside and getting the vibe of the city.

Barcelona Bus Touristic Blue Route: https://www.barcelonabusturistic.cat/en/blue-route

Barcelona Bus Touristic Red Route: https://www.barcelonabusturistic.cat/en/red-route

The Street Art

Coming in from the airport, the city revealed itself in wonderful blurs of color. I tend to judge a country, or a city, by the quality of its street art, and Barcelona immediately set the bar high. As I meandered through the maze of the Gothic Quarter searching for Vegan Junk Food Bar, I came across truly inspiring graffiti pieces, layered murals, clever stickers, and pockets of protest art tucked into stone walls centuries old. In a neighborhood where streets twist and overlap, the art became its own kind of map, making it easier to find landmarks and orient myself. It felt like wandering through a living gallery, where creativity and history coexist effortlessly.

Vegan Junk Food Bar (VJFB)

I had researched a vegetarian or vegan restaurant in every city on our itinerary, but this was the one I was most eager to try. Was it because of their Instagram? Yes—I’ll admit it. The aesthetics, the colors, the unapologetic boldness of their feed had me hooked. At the same time, I worried it might be all bark and no bite. Thankfully, I was wrong.

Vegan Junk Food Bar delivered. The food was just as flavorful as it was colorful. I ordered the No Bones Loaded Potato Fries—smiley-face potatoes with a surprising puff and crisp—along with the ribs. I also ordered the VJFB™ Crunchy Fly Wingz sliders on a pink bun with cheese, lettuce, pickles, Blue Daddy sauce, and no tomato. I ate the loaded fries there and took the burger plus an extra order of smiley fries to go for my son.

Yes, it’s a social media lover’s dream: Instagrammable corners, delicious cocktails, and dramatic food presentation. Still, more importantly, the portions were filling, the flavors hit, and the food lived up to the hype and the price. Strapped my son back on, we walked home past graffiti and commissioned art as the evening energy came alive. That night’s shower? Absolutely epic.

Menu: https://veganjunkfoodbar.com/menu-vjfbtm-barcelona

Recap

To recap everything we managed on our very first day: we arrived from the U.S., cleared customs without issue, our baggage arrived safely, there were no meltdowns, and we successfully took the airport city bus straight into the heart of Barcelona. I located our Airbnb, changed and fed my son, dropped our bags, and somehow still found the energy to head back out for another six hours.

We climbed aboard the Barcelona Bus Turístic, soaking in the city and its architectural landmarks, hopping off three different times to explore. We wandered through the Gothic Quarter, I found the exact restaurant I had been hoping for, and we made it back to the Airbnb without getting lost—or pickpocketed. Even better, there were no diaper blowouts or travel disasters. All things considered, it was more than a successful first day; it was a promising, confidence-boosting start to our multi-city, multi-country adventure. We slept well.