a night in barcelona

my time in spain was incredible. the most memorable month of my life. and my life is going to go a lot differently now because of it. but i can tell you about that later. the most important thing for me to do in these precious first few days back is to record what happened. i've been telling my stories over and over, and now they're ready to be written down. let's start with one of my favorite barcelona stories: the night i slept in the street. this story is good because it sets up a much better story for later.

so i'd found a group of really chill kids in barcelona and was getting together with them for sight seeing, drinking, eating, everything. but our circumstances were not good. we were being big tourists, hanging out at one of barcelona's sketchier tourist traps, a place called travel bar. travel bar organizes a pub crawl literally every three nights. if you sign up early, you go for 10 euros (how do you do a euro symbol on a US keyboard?). most people pay 15 though. for 10, you don't do too badly. for 15, you're getting ripped off. 100 people go, they buy overpriced drinks at all the bars, and travel bar gets kickbacks from the bars in addition to the price of your ticket. so we knew it was a scam, but it's a huge party and everyone everyone gets some.

the night ended at a club in barceloneta (on the waterfront, 20-minute walk from our hostels), and i had my first non-white makeout: an asian girl who was probably american because i know her friends were. that part of the story is fun, but it's not the important part. the problem was that the club started clearing out at 3:30. my hostel was locked from 3 to 7. fuck! i thought we were gonna be out until dawn and go to the beach for a while. nope! but an irish guy named mike offered to stay out with me as long as i wanted, despite the fact that he was with his new girl, a badass chick from portland named malaika. we must have walked for an hour and a half, but eventually romance took its toll and they had to leave. i understand. they only had three or four days together and they were mad for each other, and this might have been the one night they ever got to spend together. so we split up and agreed to meet the next morning. i had to find somewhere safe to hang out for two hours. and if you've ever been to barcelona, you know that being a drunk tourist there at 5am just isn't safe. i turned my black tshirt inside out to hide the english words written on it, pulled out my knife to feel mean, and started literally stalking through the alleys, staring at everyone i saw, trying to give them the impression that robbing me wouldn't be easy. i had two hours to look tough before i could sleep.

but that's a tough place. the nigerian hookers mob you and a dozen hands grope you trying to pick your pockets. you won't even see the purse snatchers. the very fact that you're alone and on the street makes you a target. two hours is a long time. i had to find a safe place without people. and i found one. the one perfect place in barcelona: a small plaza with a church and a history museum. clean, with a couple stoops in the shadows, and the best part: only one entrance. i checked all the shadows for other sleepers and found none. i put my head on my knees, my back to the wall, and slept on and off until dawn. the next day found me pretty tired. i went back to the hostel about 7:30 and crashed for a few hours, then met up with my friends to go to a museum. if i can find a way to post pictures easily, i'll show you some from that following day.

i was happy to have made it through the night safely, but when i saw mike and malaika the next day, i felt so lucky. on their one romantic night alone, their first chance to be together with no one else around, they got mugged. less than five minutes after we split up, and junkie pushed mike, smashed a wine bottle, and held it to his chest. he only spoke enough english to say "money". but mike didn't have any. the guy was shaking, because he knew he only had a few seconds before someone else came by. mike showed him his empty wallet, and the junkie was satisfied that he didn't have any. but noticing a camera strap hanging from mike's pocket, he settled for that. "camera". the exchange was done. the junkie ran away. he never went after malaika or her bag. just a camera. he could sell it on the streets or at a pawn shop for maybe 20 or 30 euros and that would be food and a fix for the day.

they say you can buy anything on the streets in those two hours before dawn. but how do you buy from a guy who'd rather just stab you for your money than give you a camera for it? maybe it's better to get your camera from best buy. or steal it from someone a little less dangerous. maybe a tourist.

españa

i miss writing. i have a stack of postcards i bought in barcelona and haven´t written a single one. spain is amazing. three weeks is not enough time. there are people out here spending years travelling around the world, and i´m spending a piddling three weeks in three or four cities in spain. it´s reaching the point where i´ve met too many incredible people and become overwhelmed. i´m struck by the unfairness of having to meet them all for two days and then leave them forever. the problem is that i´m getting a new appreciation for how large the world is, and now my mind needs to expand to take it all in.

somehow my trip to japan made me see how large the world was and scared me, making me appreciate where i came from a bit more. but here, i can live. there´s a whole world of people out here too big for one place. i can´t let myself get settled in seattle. don´t be surprised if i stay there one year and move on. more to come later. it´s my last night in valéncia.