36 posts tagged “barcelona”

Well, what do you know? All these shitty days brought a happy ending. That's right, folks, even I can't believe it but I finished the third chapter of my novel. I only have the last one left and it's probably gonna be the easiest one to write. I feel like I fought with the dragons and won. I'm exhausted, but happy. I managed to transform all the anguish I experienced into a creative frenzy that helped me finish this difficult part.

I feel dizzy when I think about it, but so far I have about 80 000 words! And they're all mine. I expect I'll be finishing it at the end of the month, by which time I'll have more than 100 thousand. Hope they're worth something.

I have to thank Sabrina, my flatmate, for the sunshine in my life. She singlehandedly resolved some electricity problems we've been experiencing the last two days, when we were left in the dark, with no possibility to charge my laptop. She really is a witch.

So, presented with the uncommon situation of not having access to my laptop, I spent a lot of time outdoors. I've been walking through here, on the left, and fed the ducks. That's not an euphemism for anything, it's just a pond with ducks right in the middle of Barcelona, by the seashore. One of them had babies, and they were leaning how to float. Aaaaa!

It's unbelievable how a small thing like this can change you perspective on life. All of a sudden I felt enlightened and glorious. I knew.

I feel the whole word is changing all around me, but I stay the same. For the first time in my life, I'm just a passive viewer, watching how most people evolve or barely straggle to survive. I manage to extract myself from this complex equation called life. No more drama for me, thank you very much. Let me just stay and enjoy the view. Sure, the view is not always enjoyable, nor entertaining, yet it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling of living among the living.

Let me explain myself to you, because I feel I'm being rather oblique. It's not that I don't care anymore, I do, I do, I do. It's not that I'm not passionate anymore, I am, I am, I am. Yet, I don't feel like involving myself in anything else but my business. Everybody around me has a sad or happy story to tell, has achieved or lost something, and all I have to say about is: that's life, mate. Don't sweat it! I can't help but wonder if this is finally me reaching wisdom, or just losing it slowly. Whatever. Look at me, laying in my bed with the laptop on my knees, listening to the new The Raconteurs album, Consolers of the Lonely, trying to understand the meaning of life. My life. (It suddenly occurs to me that I can totally be Jack White's groupie for a living. I could throw red rose petals on the path his beautiful yet slightly deranged feet grace the ground. I totally would, you know that, don't you?)

On the other hand, my writing is going swell, baby. The other day I wrote a passage I've been dreaming to write since last august. I've finally reached at that point! I can't believe it, I have about 70% of my book already written. Now, about that passage, it's describing one of the darkest, most disturbing, psychedelic states of mind of my hero. I wrote it in a cozy cafe by the sea, with people all around me, but I didn't even noticed their presence. In fact, I'm not sure I even breathed for about an hour or two, until I was done. But it was worth it, the final result is great. I didn't think I had it in me. (Probably that's why I was having murderous tendencies the other day. Something gotta give.) I've finally signed the pact with the Devil, folks!

Maremagnum caffee

Yesterday I woke up early and went to the market with Sabrina to buy grapefruits. She brought from Buenos Aires a special kind of tea, some Argentinian traditional herb called Yierba Mate. Tastes shitty unless you drink it from a grapefruit with a hole in it. And then we made plans for the evening to go out a little bit, as we never went out partying together and it's high time we did it. And, boy, what a night we had!

First, we started with an Irish pub to pay homage to our beloved green friends as they were celebrating St. Patrick's day in their own special way. We blended it. It was funny cos everyone in the pub was wearing green clover hats. Then we went to a fancy bar, where we had a glass of champaign each, enough to kick the evening in. Then we went to this club, where Sabrina knew the bartender and we got all the drinks for free. That would be a Jaggermaister shot and a caipirhinia. We were laughing and having a very good time. The more I discover Sabrina, the more I like her. She's a clever girl with personality and principals. I don't know if I used the right words to describe her, but you get the idea; like, you don't meet this kind of people very often. Most people are schmucks.

Well, it turns out that next week Sabrina's ex bf is visiting her from Italy. Apparently, all of a sudden, he realized she is the love of his life, and wants to get back with her. She's not so sure, also it's the long distance issue, but she's willing to see what happens. Ok, that being said, I can continue with the night's tale. Sabrina bumped into some acquaintance of her, who was either very happy to see her or had a banana in his pocket. The guy was with his friend, some dude named Ingo who claimed to be a saxophone player. So I ended up making conversation with him. He said he just toured the world with his group, and he had some excellent experiences. Also, he invited me to his next concert, he said I would love to hear him playing. I was way too educated to tell him that sax is not my thing, unless, of course, Johnny Depp was playing it. And he's no Johnny Depp.

And then, he asked me what my age was, and upon learning it, he said: "well, I'm three years younger than you, that's quite a lot of age gap there". "Hold you horses, cowboy, it's not like I like you anyway, so don't even bother making any kind of calculations." By that time, we were walking towards the metro station and we both received a red rose from our chevaliers. And he asked, "what do you mean you don't like me?" "Well, it's simple, you're rather ugly, quite fat and your hair is a mess. So you see, it's ok for me to have a conversation with you, but that's all I'm willing to concede to you. And mind you, it's quite a treat you're getting here as I'm in my "conversational prime"". And, ladies and gents, here comes the best part: "well, you're a pretty girl all right, but for a ==my nationality== you've quite a big mouth". (the translation from Spanish is quite approximate, but this is the meaning of his words). I was almost happy he gave me grounds to unleash myself. So I said loud to Sabrina, "girl, your friend's friend keeps insulting me and on the top of it he's a nazi. How about we catch the next train and get rid of them, cos they're such a bore?" "Good idea", she said, and we threw the roses in the litter bin and got away. A lot of people around us saw the whole scene, and they all cheered us and invited us to join them if we wanted. Actually, we got home and rolled a fat one and laughed our bums out.

But the question still remains, in modern day Spain, a twenty something makes nazi remarks to people. How should I address this issue? Should I consider all Spanish people are nazis and give them all the dirty look? Meh, that would make me just like this guy. Should I teach him some manners? Meh, if his momma didn't, neither will I. So, somebody please tell me how the fuck should I relate to this, cos sure as hell I ain't taking shit from no one!

    The cheerful disposition never left me. This morning, I woke up very early, spent about three hours in preening, because I'm sure you know by now that in an interview, be it a job interview, the looks count more than the resume. Not that my resume is not good enough, but in a world of good enoughs, a decent look makes the difference. Also, it was an excellent opportunity for me to show of my new printemps collection of hot couture. (God, I'm good with words!). So, dressed up as the queen of mods, nothing less, I believe I made an excellent impression on the recruitment lady. I certainly exceeded my own expectations. I was so communicative, so spiritual, so poised, I truly amazed myself. I may have made a few things up just for the sake of an interesting conversation, but all in all I told her exactly what I wanted and she seemed committed to help me get it. Because normally I'm quite grumpy and serious when with new people, I need quite a lot of foreplay in order to let my hair down. So maybe I'm starting to change, to evolve into a superior being, the homo comunicatiens, and all I have to do in order to achieve something is to look pretty, smile and have no problem in expressing myself in a flamboyant yet effective way. Wouldn't that be great? The world would be a better place.
    Or maybe is just Mercury not being retrograde anymore, but who's counting?
    I walked home for about an hour and a half, it was a worm, sunny springtime day, and the soft breeze was caressing my face. The purple satin ballerina shoes didn't exactly thank my feet for it, but what the hell, I was stoic. I resisted most impulses to enter shops, except for the couple of times when I badly needed to check myself in the mirror, because I was afraid my mascara was yielding. False alarm!
     When I got home I wrote no less than four excellent pages, that need no revisions, probably the best pages of the chapter so far. I'm so excited about it. Finally, I feel I found my own voice, quite innovative, direct, I got rid of pompous words and I go straight to the point. I'm loving it. And as if all that wasn't enough, I spent quality time with my flat mates, Sabrina and Toni, and after all this time of almost-belligerent attitude, we really clicked and had fun.
     I can't ask for anything more, can I?

Great days those last two! Yesterday I had some friends back home visiting Barcelona and I spent one of the best days of the year so far. They are ex work colleagues, believe it or not, but they're fun, smart and outrageously delicious people. First we did a little bit of shopping and then we went eating in a fancy schmancy restaurant downtown in the Gothic quarters. We had to queue to get in, and my friends were so amazed by it. They never believed people would queue to go to a restaurant. Well, here you go! Then we had paella and sangria, and man, the party had begun. The cheered and good disposition I had overcame my habitual reservation and I was the most verbose, extrovert girl in the world. I told funny stories, I made silly faces and everybody was laughing along. My guess is it's the language. I was missing talking in my native language with witty funny people who understand my sense of humor. The thing is, I only write in my native language, I rarely have the chance to speak it, unless of course, we don't count the endless arguments with my sister. Then, I do speak Spanish a lot, but it's not the same. Spanish is not a funny language. It's very serious and sumptuous. English is by far the best language to be hilariously funny, but again, I only use it when I write here, I watch Jon Stewart on redlasso.com and, of course, read gossip blogs. I'm thinking to move to an English speaking country as of this summer. I don't know. Maybe.

On the other hand, it's been almost five months since I'm here and my main goal, the novel, is far from being near the end. I started the third part and I reached tenth page, but it's going so slow. I'm planning by the end of the month to finish the third part. Should be doable. Otherwise, I'm waisting my life here. Time is creeping behind my back, the motherfucker!

Tomorrow I have a job interview. Some PR company for luxury products. Sounds like fun, although, I don't really want to go to work. Not again! Well, I'll just go to the interview and see how's going on. Just for the fun of it. Also, I have the chance to show off my new clothes. Oh my god, I'm gonna look stunning!

Uffff, finally i have me all for myself. Last week my aunt was visiting and I literally spent 24/7 with her. I had no time and little desire to do everything else.
I've seen all museums, memorial houses and churches possible. We even went one day to Figueras to see Salvador Dali museum. It was cold as hell, and the wind almost swept us off our feet, but it was all worth it. Actually, for me it was the second time I sow Dali - Figueras, the first time I went there it was about six years ago with a biker called Casanova whose granddad used to be classmates with Dali. Ah, the memories!

Then, of course, the good old shopping bit. I totally exaggerated, but on the other hand I have the coolest stuff in the world right now. I just need some shoes to match. Oh well...

So I did sleep last night. I woke up at 1 pm, which is unheard of for me. The house was a mess, Toni had a supper last night with his friends and he left everything dirty and disgusting. Sabrina went berserk and we both had a bitch talk with him. Actually, it was more like me supporting her, because I was in such a great mood that not even the full sink of greasy plates, the dirty table and the general smell of cigarettes left overs could bring me down. Then we went to have a coffee down under, there's a new coffee place that opened while we were away, at the ground floor of our building, next to the giant Bob Dylan billboard. I talked to her about me wanting to get a tattoo, and she has a tattoo artist friend that will make me a cool one and will charge me next to nothing. I'm so looking forward for this, I'm a tattoo virgin. I want something outrageous! Sabrina has about 37 tattoos, so she's the right person to get advise from.

Then I went to the gym. It seems that I sort of lost my touch, as during the last ten days I didn't work out a bit. Gerardo,

 the instructor, was quite keen on letting me know that. On the bright side, it's good when people notice your absence.

This is how Gerardo looks. Isn't' it hilarious?

Good. Let's get to the best part. I never made a secret out of the fact that I have a bit of a hair fetish. Well, few days before going home I had the coolest haircut from a guy downtown. He has the most beautiful legs I've ever seen, as he was wearing a miniskirt and was sporting the 4 non-blondes look. This kind of people is to be trusted. Anyway, in order to keep my cool haircut, I invested quite a large amount of money in hair styling products. One I've got from tigi that gives my hair an incredibly cool volume. Something I only dreamed of  before. And like this wasn't enough, yesterday I got a new one from label.m, it's called hair glue, believe or not, that gives the hair a robert smithesque look. How cool am I? Actually, I don't know why I'm telling you all this. But since we're here and my hair is fabulous, I'm gonna have to go clubbing in all the cool places to show it off. I can just get myself some emo bloke and have my ways with him. Also, I heard it helps getting rid of any ripe fig taste in your mouth.

What else? (I feel like I'm at the psychiatrist.) Oh, I totally want this job. I'm a journalist, why don't I get to do this?

Ok, and the last thing. After all this time, I still haven't discovered nothing better to do than listening to Sam's Town. Nothing. Absolutely. But my heart don't beat the way it used to and my eyes don't see you no more, and my lips don't kiss the way they used to and my eyes don't recognize you at all. For reasons unknown.

Shitious day. The whole day rain didn't really uplifted my mood. Neither did my sister's acute mental problems. I need to distance myself from all these.