Bajai Life Camp 16.23: Day 474
City Park Hotel Sant Just
Sunday September 23, 2018
Barcelona, Spain
25.95% exquinoxed
First day of Autumn.
Slept like a rock through the night. I woke at 09:30. Felt a little bit weird, like a headache was coming, but no. I had to remember where I was.
Barcelona!
Laundry Day... Long awaited!!
Today is a Long Awaited laundry day. For me laundry day is the opposite of a holiday. It's a day of purpose. Of dedication. Only the long distance vagabond can appreciate the joy of a laundromat after weeks or months of washing clothes in basins and bathtubs. I may actually do two loads today.
*Note, I am purposely not including costs. It's part of a resolution to stop nickel and diming myself.
Back to the hotel.
My taxi driver took me through the rich part of Barcelona. He's a south Asian guy who's lived in Barcelona since the late 1980s. He didn't speak much English. But enough to communicate this info.
The hotel was active. There were some black kids sitting out in front, but not looking like they worked there. At the same time I had the feeling of familiarity... Philly... and the feeling of, that's strange, this is Barcelona. Which reveals how little I know about Barcelona.
I check in, and start dumping my adventure on the desk clerk who was very nice, friendly, understanding. Little did I know how much was or would be going on.
I went to the restaurant downstairs because I was told they served until 22:30. One of the dudes was sitting in the corridor playing on his device. Curious. The first room I passed was for the breakfast buffet. No one there. I followed the cheers of celebration further down the corridor to find a wedding reception in progress. Nope. I won't find a meal here. Then I returned to the ground floor where I saw signs for a swimming pool, piscina. The desk clerk directed me and of course I went the wrong way and nearly walked into someone's room. This guy emerges... one of the dudes. "Dudes" because I don't know who these cats are, but I think it's unusual that they are all around the place, kind of hanging out.
I ask dude, in Spanish if he speaks Spanish or English. A little bit of English. I ask where the pool is. He shows me the way. His English is accented by the British school... so I'm thinking African.
Since he showed me the way to the pool I asked him a few more questions and it turns out he'd been living here about a month. So of course, I think probably this is true for all of the brothahs. And I'm thinking these are some of the immigrants coming from Africa. I was sure of it, until I was sure of it, then I figured I could be wrong. They could be a futbol team.
There are a few hippie chicks among them who could be sponsors or liaisons. Who knows? I find it curious and I'd love to get the story, if I could do so without coming off as a judgemental busy-body [or a bigot]. It seems like the whole world has become uber sensitive.
Being back in Spain is bringing me back to life!
Just met Lola.
I shouldn't be so amazed that I found the lavanderia on the first try. Usually I recon the area first, but this time I just went for it. I turned the map upside down and memorized some land marks, counted cross streets and boom! I'm there.
First of all, I love Spanish lavanderias. In my opinion they are the best in Europe. The places with the computerized pay points annoy me. I prefer direct pay slots. The pay points represent an extra step and an extra opportunity for me to mess up. Which I did. Which gave me the opportunity to practice my Spanish and speak with a helpful Spanish, (or Catalonian) lady. Turns out, I didn't close the washing machine door securely.
Once again, it was me.
As I was updating this blog a very tall black woman comes in. Once again, I'm curious. She's wearing baller shorts that say, "Espana" on them. After a short time, I greet her, in Spanish and of course ask if she speaks English. She does. So I ask her if there's a place to eat nearby. Ice breaker. But I was hungry too.
She asks if I'm from Spain.
"I was going to ask you the same," I said.
Turns out, Lola is from LA, is currently playing basketball for Spain's national team, recognized my cuz who plays for UCLA, and wants to visit Philly because she likes Kevin Hart and Meek Mill, but never heard of The Roots. Aside from the small talk, I got some good perspective from an 18 year old expat... double expat really, about my city's progeny's impact on a generation born in this century. We traded IG connects and salutations and went on with our Sundays.
During these encounters, I remind myself that everything we've done in our lives have led us to the moment of our meeting. This, I believe, will be our most profound moment together, whether we ever meet again or not.
I did go to the restaurant that Lola recommended.
I didn't think I could finish. But I was hungry and polite.
Tres Arc for food. I cannot write fast enough to keep up with this day. I'm immersed in Spanish.
I strolled into Tres Arc and asked for a menu, la carte... no one here speaks English. More likely Catalan and Spanish. I choose my platter... platanos I think it was. I tried to ask for tea, with water. The matriarch asked "large or small"? I was confused. They understood water, when I wanted tea. Mom, who takes the orders, prepares the meals, runs the food and washes windows, helped me and her daughter figure things out.
When the food came I thought I wasn't going to be able to finish. I asked for hot sauce. I got it. Mom asked if it was spicy. I told her "maybe I need the water." I know she understood me and laughed. At some point she called me, "carino" - I knew we were cool.
I wanted to remember this place because it's one of those neighborhood spots... like a diner, bar, cafe all in one. Everybody comes through the door and speaks to everyone... even the stranger, with a general, "Buenos tardes."
I did finish my meal. Requested another cup of tea and left before siesta. I think it would be rude not to.
When I'm in Spain I don't feel like I'm in a foreign country. Doesn't quite feel like home, but it no longer feels strange.
I seem to have rediscovered my thirst. I've been consuming more water than I have in a long time.
I went back to the hotel and caught up on the work I do.
Around sunset I improvised a workout in the park. I even got in a few sets of pull ups.
I could leave it here, but there's more night to come.
Three times trying to book a train to Madrid. Three times technology failed. I don't think it's me this time. Three different platforms, including directly... via the renfe site. But tomorrow, directly from the station. Full moon tonight. Maybe that's the culprit.
Just had a deja vu... but I can't remember what comes next.
Full moon in Aries
There's a train station within walking distance of the hotel that goes straight to the Estacion Sants. Woo hoo! That will save me a few euro. I'm going to rekkie that route tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be able to get my ticket online. If not, directly from a kiosk.
Okay. Time to wrap up this day. Full moon tonight to celebrate the first day of Fall and Libra. HELLO!!