“My sweet angel, Barcelona, hide me safely, give me shelter
In a dark place, under assumed name, through Catalunya
Lost and rollin’, driftin’ loosely, no occupation, Barcelona
The last angel, Barcelona”
-Barcelona, by The Rentals

Having conquered the entire of Spain and a few bits of France within 3 weeks I arrived home in Barcelona early early Thursday morning (or rather late Wednesday night) both tired and tired of traveling. I won’t bore you, and myself, with the monotonous details of my last half/week in Barcelona because most of it was a lot of hustle, shipping of packages, a little more bustle, and generally running around tying things up.

Friday night I went out with Cindy’s roommates for a night on the town. Helga had a Columbian friend over and he insisted on going to the Xampaneria. We arrived and found the dirt cheap bar packed to the freaking brim. I squeezed my way into the center aftter about 10 minutes until I found myself itching with claustrophobia as I was smashed on all sides between drunken spanish tourists. After escaping the rucus all of us shared a small space by the doorway with two bottles of cava and a few wonderful lomo con queso sandwhiches. We wandered off down Barceloneta towards the beach and paused for a moment to allow the Columbian guy to expound some bit of his comic-ridden wisdom on us when we ran upon a most peculiar sight. A man from Ghana and a Frenchman were sitting down by the port practicing some reggea jams on their portable keyboard and acoustic guitar. After befriending them with promises of free beer we hung out with “the Zion Band” for the rest of the night, goofing off and listening to their music. Only in Barcelona would this happen.

The next day Cindy and I went to the Barcelona Forum, the highly publisized international festival, to see what all the comotion was about. Our reduced price entrance fee of 12 euros came with a free pass to any Barcelona museum and soon we were inside patrolling the specially constructed sea-side Forum area. It was gorgeus. The architecture was fantastic with lookout points over the sea, bridges spanning large man made lakes, and a plethora of exhibition space. There was plenty of activities to fill the day including the Xi’an warriors, mini water park, carnival, circus (complete with contortionist and acrobats), and shows all with an educational and multicultural twist. In fact, after all the confusion amoung the public about what the point of the Forum really is Cindy and I decided that they could have cleared up a lot of confusion just by telling everyone just this; the Forum is an eductional and multicultural theme park… in catalan.

Our Forum day left us little time for anything else. We attempted to get into the Nit En La Pedrera event (champagne and a concert) on the roof of La Pedrera, which would have been amazing with its gorgeous architecture and scenic view of Passeig de Gracia, but when we arrived all the tickets had long since been sold out. Put that on the list of things to do next time I’m in Barcelona (whenever that may be).

My last day in Barcelona, Monday, was a whirlwind of busy errands. I picked up my deposit money from Dani (my roommate) along with my internet hub, went shopping, packed, blah de blah boring. That night Juan invited me over to his house for a last supper and Cindy was invited along at the last minute. Lily finally gave me a kiss hello, something she always refused to do before (be it from shyness or just because she is ounery) which made me feel very special. She and Laura had little presents for me, a wristwatch from Laura and a picture that Lily had made in school. I gave Laura her belated birthday presents of The Princess Bride (La Pricessa Prometida) and a princess Barbie, which she absolutly loved. Juan took me out for Horxata de Chufa before his again wonderful dinner of roasted chicken. The whole event was spectacular and really made me understand why I would miss this place, my Barcelona, so much. The simplicity, friendliness, laid back attitude towards everything. The night was capped off by watching L’Auberge Espagnole for one last time. Juan and Mayte loved it and I think it gave them a bit of insight into what my life had been like for the past year. I was invited to spend the night at their house so Juan could take me to the airport the next morning. I couldn’t sleep. Barcelona’s goodbyes rang though my head.

Cynthia met me outside Juan’s apartment the next morning at 6pm for the drive to the airport. I sucked in some deep breathes before I entered. This was the last time to breathe in Spain for a long while. The check in took a good bit of time to complete but soon I was hugging Juan goodbye. I will miss Juan… “but its not a goodbye.” Cindy and I were left in the terminal before the security gate. I didn’t want to pass that line and spent as much time as possible avoiding it the crossover, evening misplacing my tickets accidentaly? several times. But at the appointed time obligation pulled me across it, right before I said my last goodbyes and left my life in Barcelona behind. I was crying as I turned the corner.

Thus my year in Barcelona ended. It was over. Under the guise of “studying abroad” I lived one of the most spectacular years of my life. For 335 days I was absolutly and without question free, in the most pure sense of the word. I let go of responsibility’s hand and ran apart from it, glancing behind every so often to judge my distance from its imprisoning grip, laughing and exploring the space (where to next? Glasgow? Rome? Istanbul? Istanbul!), yet watching that distance fade ever so slowly until, finally, during my last days in Barcelona it caught back up with me, grabbing at my sleeve, its fingers brushing and craving to hold me back once again. And here I am. We are running side by side and it -responsibility, obligation, “the real world”, whatever its true name- is taunting me.

I have been in America for a little under a week now going through a strong dose of (reverse) culture shock. The bigness, sweetness, and swiftness of The United States has caught me off gaurd and I am trying to catch up. Things haven’t changed too radically at home which I am thankful for but nevertheless some interesting things have happened. The biggest of which being my brother Zech moving away to Hollywood to pursue a fantastic job opportunity. I have been taking it as easy as possible, visiting the old friends who havent moved to Oregon, been deported, or gotten married and left; just trying not to let anything overwhelm me. I find myself comparing everything to Spain. It is my new standard from which everything will be judged. I have to admit though, I am happy to be home and its nice to come back to those who truelly love you, but it still doesn’t seem a permanent move. I haven’t unpacked my bags yet and I don’t really want to. It makes me feel like I could just get back on a plane at any moment and re-live that year. Thank God for last year. And thank you for reading my emails. Keep in touch.

Your friend,
Gabriel