Barcelona y Maria

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!