Alright..
So.. This whole 4 countries in 5 days thing MAY have worn me out a little more
than I anticipated. I woke up at 8 this morning with plans to write all
morning, then go for a beach walk at noon with a few people, and instead fell
back asleep until 11:30. Maria, being the Spanish mother-type she is, told me
to take a rest day. One of the people I was going for a walk with, and supposed
to meet in person for the first time, assured me that I should “focus on [me]
today”. So naturally, what do I do when I want to relax and re-charge? Go find
a Starbucks of course. Yes, on that note, I’ve figured out why I like going to
Starbuck’s around the world so much. It is most definitely not because I
support them, nor because their coffee or food is particularly good tasting,
and most definitely not because of their ‘fair’ prices. It’s because it’s the
one place, no matter where I go, that is exactly the same. Same décor, same
drinks, same taste, same prices. Same tables, same chairs, same terrace, same
free wifi. When you’re travelling from country to country, city to city, and
culture to culture, everything changes. Your friends change, the language
changes, the customs change, the weather changes, your style changes, your
living situation changes, everything. So to be able to cope with all of this
and get the most out of it, you kind of have to remove yourself from your body
a bit. Be aloof. You have to turn inwards to cope with all the changes, but at
the same time engage as much as possible with your surroundings. It’s quite the
task. Takes up a lot of energy some times. So sometimes, you just feel like
being somewhere familiar. For me, this is going for coffee at Starbucks.
Anyways,
back to the task at hand. Barcelona and Maria. To finish off, or rather get to,
what I was saying yesterday, she is just a wonderful person inside and out. I
could not be happier with my serendipitous living arrangements. We all know
that I tend to spend a lot of time inside my head, which I am thankful for,
it’s what permits me to write what I write, and do what I do, however it
inevitably leads me to spend less time thinking about daily, tangible things
(there is only a certain amount of brain space available after all!). This,
tends to lead to a certain disconnect with people that do not, and rather are
quite focused on the tangible. Maria though, being the artist she is, requires
her to live in the fringes of the intangible. Which I love. We get on very
well.
Life
however, has not just handed me this wonderful person to live with and learn
from, it has also led me to the most fortuitous of situations. Completely
disregarding actual Barcelona itself (culture, architecture, style, weather,
customs, etc.), I have had nothing but positive experiences and feelings here
so far. Granted, the past 5 months, since Gooner passed actually, have been a
constant struggle for me to see the positive side of things, which admittedly
has failed at times, and has led me to become quite the recluse for days on
end, trying to lose myself in some way. However, I think it’s been a worthy
struggle, a lesson of a struggle if you will. Because now, when something truly
good happens, it feels heavenly. It feels easy. It feels almost like a reward.
Sure, the struggle is still there, but it’s much easier to win. Right now, it
this precise moment in my life, Barcelona, Maria, and all of this, feels like
my reward.
Why? Well
that brings me to Barcelona itself. For starters, it’s sunny here. Even there’s
cloud cover and it spits rain, the sky is still bright. The sun still shines
through your windows in the morning. The weather is also close to perfect. Not
too hot, not cold, not too humid (Brussels, cough cough), not too dry
(Saskatchewan….). There’s a distant view of mountains on the one side, and the
sea at the other. It has a clean organised almost Western city feel and
structure, but with the intense culture, architecture, and centre classic to
Europe. It’s a very international city, but still very Spanish at the same
time. A balance hard to find. The people are not as cold and removed like many
cities. They have a style, but an effortless, comfortable one. One that doesn’t
scream the runways of Milan or Paris, but is far above the Canadian overalls,
jeans and a hoodie. It’s a cities that is extremely proud of its regional
identity, and the official language is both Catalan as well as Spanish. And
Catalan, to my happy surprise is basically Spanish with a French twist! After
only being here for 2 days I can already order, ask and answer basic question,
figure out the subject of conversations and sentences, and understand Maria
when she forgets her French and goes off in Catalan/Spanish.
I’m living in the town of Sarria/Villa Florida that the city of
Barcelona has swallowed. It is very peaceful and calm, with local grocers,
butchers, bakers, cafés and bars, and a town square all just around the corner.
But, it is also just across the street to the metro, and a 10 minute metro ride
to Barcelona city centre. The perfect combination. Much like a Spanish version
of Broadway in Saskatoon. But less hipsters and hippies, more families,
artists, professors, and other cultural/intellectual elite. Maria’s place, as
the pictures depicts, is everything you would imagine it to be. Very peaceful, very
zen, very clean, but still very home feeling. Very cosy. My room, is her old
office, which she says holds very positive vibes. She believes it used to be
occupied by a few spiritual leaders. It is also where she still holds most of
her books, and Buddha statue. There is not too much privacy, as it’s directly
off of the living room with only sliding doors to separate, but after the last
year, I really don’t mind. I’m overjoyed just to be able to have a room, bed,
and space to call my own.
When I landed in Barcelona airport, the most confusing airport I’ve been
to, and that includes Toronto and Bangkok, I was already very tired, and after
30 minutes of searching unsuccessfully to find my way, I resigned to getting a
taxi. After getting in the taxi, and discovering he did not speak English or
French, it was Spanish from there on in. I gave him the address and that just
fine. Then I when I asked if he took credit card, and he replied no, the miming
began. I managed to communicate with my limited words that I needed to stop at
a bank machine to get cash. Then I asked him a few question on how to say and
pronounce things like the Catalan word for bank machine for future reference.
The driver was so incredibly friendly, he even complimented me on my Spanish accent.
Which was wonderful to hear, considering all French speakers do is mock my
accent, or anyone’s accent that differs from their little “accepted accents”
category. We even managed to have
a little conversation about where I was from, what I was doing, and a few
things about Germany. When I finally got to Maria’s, we were both extremely
tired, but she was still incredibly warm and welcoming. I can safely say that
that moment crosses the top 10 occasions in my life where I’ve been the most
thankful for the ability to speak fluent French, to be able to communicate with
her.
The next day, she seemed equally pleased about our ability to
communicate, as I guess that most of her previous guests spoke only English and
limited Spanish, so there was very little communicating other than the basics
and what can be said through mime and note. So after breakfast, she said she’d
take me for a tour of the neighbourhood and for coffee. She took me to the
wonderful café/cultural centre next door where I had a very delicious croissant
and little cortado coffee while she
animatedly spoke with the barrista. It was clear already then that she was well
known and had many friends in the community. She then took me up the street,
stopping to point out all the important stores, waving and greeting friends,
getting bread. We then continued all around the entire neighbourhood chatting
and showing me the sights, architecture, and important things to know.
After this, she went for lunch with a lovely friend (well, from what I
gathered from our brief, limited Spanish conversation she was lovely..), giving
me time to absorb everything that I had just experienced and go through some
pictures. After she returned, and we both relaxed a bit, and I do mean a bit.
She took me by metro to the centre. Here, she showed me exactly which lines to
take, which not to take because they take forever, guided me through buying a
card, even walked me exactly where I needed to go to get to the International
House on Monday morning, where my course is located. Each step of the way
pointing out things to make sure I remembered. She then even took me to get my
sim card for my phone (which I will have to return to Monday, as the POS only
works sporadically). She then took me down some of the main streets, showed me
Passeig de Gracia, a few Gaudi buildings and statues, Plaça de Catalunya, as we
gazed at the architecture, I stared around in wonder, and we people watched. By
the time we got home, it was already around 8pm, and as the Spanish don’t eat
until 9-10, it was this ‘down time’ in my room that had me realize how tired I
was and led to the first ‘introductory blog’ of yesterday.
Well I feel like I’ve said nothing, but I’ve already gone on for 3
pages, so I’ll stop here. The rain that came by surprise has just stopped as
suddenly, so I’m going to take this time to walk home. Drinks tonight meeting 4
future class mates. Wish me luck!
