From when I first arrived at the airport in Barcelona to the day I left, I felt unwelcome. The tourist community and the locals in this city coexist along parallel planes. From the frequency of seeing the words "tourists go home" spray painted on benches and walls to the words of warning from hostel staff that the neighbors had thrown watermelons and eggs on past visitors' heads, I was made very aware that Catalonians did not appreciate my presence.
That being said, I had an exceptional time this past week. I stayed at a small, community-centric hostel built for solo-travelers in the Parallel district. Each night, nearly everyone staying in the three story building would gather around the kitchen table for a free dinner served family style. The three hour affair would move from paella to drinking games, and then the group would go out together on revelrous adventures that would last until 6 am - or whenever we managed to stumble back home. This was a great way to meet people from across the world - not just to get drunk with on cheap sangria, but also to explore the city with during the daylight hours (once we had all managed to roll out of bed, anyway).
I made sure to hit all the major sights - Gaudi's architecture, Las Ramblas, etc., but my best memories of this city all take place at night - wandering the narrow streets at 4 am, the city quiet but still awake, recounting memories and sharing stories with friends I hadn't known the day before.