Oye!

I'd been to Barcelona once before, with my mom & diane, and discovered cultural spain. This time, however, I discovered la España verdadera, and let me tell you, it's got nada to do with museums.

It's about tapas in the late afternoons, naps at 8 o'clock in the evening, dinners until 2 in the morning, and dancing 'til dawn. And being totally & utterly useless the next day. How do the Spanish do it? I'm not sure, because as soon as the plane landed in London yesterday, I thought I was going to be deaf after the pressure in my newly congested head. I've spent the day in bed, sleeping and fucking around on the internet, trying to rest up and get healthy again. Six straight days of partying and debauchery is quite the wear and tear on the old system, and I hadn't been dancing til dawn since...well, the last time I was in Europe, 2 years ago.


I think Americans get their parties started at a more reasonable time because we want to make the most out of our days and our nights. Sure, we'll get drunk and party, but the next day, we've got errands, we've got work, we've got people to meet up with, shopping to indulge in, exercise to do, dogs to walk! Our weekends are not just for taking it easy. It took me until around 8pm to work off our hangovers, and then it was time to do it all again. AWESOME.

I asked this one Spanish girl, "so, did you go out last night?"
"No, I just had beers with friends until about 3 in the morning."
I laughed. "Wait, you don't consider that going out?"
::cue spanish laughter::
"Ay, americanos! No, that's not going out!"
Of course, of course...unless you're still awake when the next day breaks, it's nothing.

My first day in Barcelona, I walked around while Juan worked, strolling down Las Ramblas, where everyone gathers to gawk at tourists and locals alike, and down the labyrinthine alleyways that meander away from it. I went in and out of shops, I saw a photography exhibit on anti-war spain, i got coffee, i got kicked out of h&m for carrying my coffee, i bought my aunt a christmas present, i got more stares at my Hansel from Basel socks than i've ever gotten from any other item of clothing I've ever worn, even my insanely ugly cobalt blue-bowed ankle boots never garnered as much attention as these bad boys with the knee circles:



tapas: (manchego cheese, tomato bread, tortilla espanol, sardines, mussels, goat cheese-stuffed pimentos...)

Then I went to the MACBA with juan when he got off of work, barcelona's renowned contemporary art museum.
beloved bruce nauman:


juan & his lovely coworker elena & i went out to our friend from grenoble maria's birthday dinner.
wuv, twue wuv:

then we went to Hot Chip's DJ set at the apollo, this beautiful old theatre converted into a dance club for the evening......they put on a great set, and they're so adorable!
Hot Chip:



Sunday, shaky with no sleep and lots of hangover, i hopped on a 4-hour long train ride to Madrid to visit ms. anna. Oh, there is nothing in the world like old friends!!!! How lovely it was to have someone who knew everything about me, to be able to talk to someone as easily as you can with someone you've known for 10 years. wow. 10 years. that's insane.

best translation i've ever seen.

We went to a museum, we chatted in cafes, we ate delicious tapas, and then we danced, danced, danced, danced...we met a group of sexy italian guys in a 17th century palace-turned-dance club who pulled their instruments out of the coat check and serenaded us with flutes, accordions, and traditional french/italian songs, truly one of the most surreal and cinematic moments of my life.

It's moments like those I live for. One of the men told us about his friend:
"Il chasse toujours les emotions tres fort."
He is always chasing the strongest feelings.
And I thought to myself, "Me, too."


At dawn, we returned to my hostel and slept the morning away, until it was time for a goodbye at the metro station, and I left feeling simultaneously invigorated and exhausted.

whoosh.