09/02 Barcelona Spain

02 Sep 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.

09/02 Barcelona Spain


After a morning cup of coffee I took a direct route to the train station and boarded the first train heading towards Barcelona.  I didn’t offer Jim a single word.  He either followed or went his own way and at that point I wasn’t going to give it too much consideration.  I wasn’t interest in continuing the conversation from the night before so sat in my own compartment.  About a quarter of the way to Barcelona a group of travelers from North Africa joined in and donated some hash for the ride.  That was an invitation I needed along with a window to refocus my attentions.  The music and laughing to each other’s stories was like stopping time yet it flew like the wind and I was disappointed that we arrived so quickly.  Luckily we found a small room with a balcony looking over one of the more picturesque squares and I enjoyed sitting there, watching the socializing below.

I grew up in a much different social structure.  We had no central location were those living in my general vicinity gathered to socialize.  My parents had no idea where I went or what I was doing and they just trusted I would be home on time.  There was almost no chance we would cross paths.  I loved how here everything is centered on the church and like wheel spokes reached out into each of the community square.  Meeting new people every day, saying hello or introducing myself was almost second nature.  Today it was a smile from a Belgium gal.  She was traveling with a friend from Berlin.  The four of us wandered about a few of the nightclubs but it seemed as if nobody would share their secret password.  We followed the young ladies letting them choose a place to eat which was a mistake.  I spent money on food I should not have eaten.  We relaxed on the steps in front of the church that had a beautiful stained glass window.  I often wondered why they never lit them up from the inside on nights like this.  It would have been beautiful.  One of our new lady friends was surprised to learn we were sporting some hash.  Bringing it to the surface kinda put a damper on the evening if you were looking at things from Jim’s perspective but I didn’t care.  I was looking for a bed and a bit of sleep.  Ten beds, ten guys in one room, all with different agendas, I was in and out of sleep all night long.

I had earmarked seeing the Picasso museum.  Jim wasn’t interested which I considered a blessing.  I started the day with a cup of coffee and relaxed out on the balcony observing the ebb and flow of the people below.

Life is not a work of art, this moment cannot last, this journey is one we must embark and this too shall pass”.

I enjoyed how that museum laid out Picasso’s works in progression of his development.  With Picasso, I agree.  I have only myself to blame if I cannot understand what I know nothing about.  So with open eyes and an open mind I too will give each color its own significance.  At that moment I have already changed.  I am already somewhere else.

We go without direction, carefree, the wind may blow, chasing down the dreams of youth, where ever they may go.

We met up with two young ladies, a German gal and her girl friend was from England.  The English girl was kind of funny if you didn’t take her seriously.  She sported an attitude that she was better than everyone else.  But on the walk towards the castle it was just at too slow of a pace for me.  Once you factored in Jim’s attitude on top of hers I bolted down to the Santa Maria.  “I still think Columbus is pointing in the wrong direction, isn’t he?” “Didn’t the Vikings discover America before the Spanish?” My questions didn’t go over so well, but I had that kinda attitude and it needed to come out somewhere.  Before heading out into the night I stopped by our room to change into clothes that at least appeared clean and again sat on our balcony and watched the foot traffic before heading out into the night.  There was a comedic occurrence between a black man and his woman.  They would throw punches at each other.  I mean she would really throw punches.  The farther apart they got the louder they would scream at one another creating quite a scene considering the amount of people in the square.  I avoided Jim that night and wandered in-between the bright lights and the shadows by myself.  I retreated into the darkness to dwell on my own loneliness and to reminisce on Ann’s embraces.  I was left just watching others.  I always see faces in the crowd that I’ve think I’ve seen before.  I suppose I commingle similar characteristics of the patterns that make up my past and find myself from time to time fantasizing about her, or maybe her.  I talked somebody out of a cigarette and wandered about until I made it back to my room.  I realized that banging my head on the walls of the maze defines the shape of my life.

 

 

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    Usually behind a cup of coffee waiting for the world around me to wake up I entered today’s thoughts about yesterday’s activities into my travel journal. I’m not a writer, so I’ll apologize in advance if I jump around or seem confused. These are just the thoughts of a young man who left his possessions behind and who believes that getting lost is how one finds oneself.

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