Why Barcelona?

Because in Barcelona, in early spring, I can wait out on the street in the sunshine while I wait for Toni to pick me up on his motorcycle.

Because in Barcelona, we can go have lunch at a tiny Japanese restaurant owned by a Japanese woman and her son and eat food described by a Japanese friend of Toni's as "as close to his grandmother's cooking as he can get anywhere outside of Japan". We squeeze in on the stools at the bar, barely enough room for 10 people to eat at once.

Because in Barcelona we can go to the movies for free at 4 o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon and even though the movie is terrible (this time), it's 4 o'clock on a Tuesday and I'm at the movies...

Because in Barcelona I can go to a yoga class for 4 euro and at least take a stab at not taking life so seriously.

Because in Barcelona, Toni can take me to go eat a burger with a fried egg on it, a beer, and patatas bravas with "volcano sauce," made black with squid ink.

Because in Barcelona, I can sleep on my own, personal floating Mexican embassy and have a toasty night's sleep while hearing the wind whistling outside and the sound of ropes clanging against metal masts.


Learning to focus on the positives...

KRFR

I just found this sort of association here in Barcelona called KRFR. I'm meeting up with one of the members on Friday to get more information, but it sounds sort of like a multi-national (but mostly Mexican), multi-disciplinary (designers/architects/scientists/philosophers etc.) that are like a mini think-tank and they try and propose sustainable design projects and them do them. They also try to do sustainable projects to help the developing world as well as work on stuff with lots of different design agencies here and around the world. I know it sounds too good to be true and I don't have an entirely solid grasp of what they do yet, but if anything, maybe it'll at least be a way to meet some Mexicans. Seriously, I have no Mexicaness in my life here and I think it's causing me to have a big gaping hole in my heart and stomach.

Correction

I just realized that my last post was mis-informed. The author of "Instantes" is not Jorge Luis Borges. It's attributed to a woman called Nadine Stair, but it's not quite clear if she really wrote it or not. The confusion is due to a similar text that Borges did write, I hadn't read it before but I just did and liked it, so I'll share that one as well. It's a bit harsh, but valid.

I've committed the worst of sins
that a man can commit.
I haven't been happy.
I wish for the glaciers of oblivion
to ruthlessly drag me away and lose me.
My parents raised me
for the risky and beautiful game of life,
for the earth, the water, the air and the fire.
I defruaded them. I was not happy.
I didn't fulfill their young wish.
My mind applied itself
to the symmetrical insistence of the arts
that weaves nothingness.
Their legacy to me was courage.
I was not courageous.
It doesn't abandon me, it's always by my side,
the shadow of having been unhappy.

He cometido el peor de los pecados
que un hombre puede cometer. No he sido
feliz. Que los glaciares del olvido
me arrastren y me pierdan, despiadados.
Mis padres me engendraron para el juego
arriesgado y hermoso de la vida,
para la tierra, el agua, el aire, el fuego.
Los defraude. No fui feliz. Cumplida
no fue su joven voluntad. Mi mente
se aplicó a las simétricas porfías
del arte, que entreteje naderías.
Me legaron valor. No fui valiente.
No me abandona. Siempre esta a mi lado
la sombra de haber sido un desdichado.

Instantes

With a 40-minute train ride a few days a week and a schedule that is quite the opposite of rigorous, I find myself with plenty of time to think. Thinking usually turns into evaluating and re-evaluating different aspects of life and people, and I find myself questioning most everything. The last year has been a frustrating one for me in many ways, a challening one, and I've been pushing myself to work through all these doubts that run through my mind. This might not make any sense, but a kind of un-education, giving myself permission to deconstruct certain ideas (more on that another day). Anyway, this is something I'm trying to flesh out right now and and it's a process that will take time and I thought I'd share some of the pieces of input I've been reading and listening to and hopefully get some feedback. So today I'm putting up a short text by the now-deceased Chilean writer, Jorge Luis Borges. I translated it but I'll put the original version in Spanish below because I think originals tend to be better than translations.

In other news, there's no school on Monday so Toni and I are going to Mallorca for a long long-weekend. I'll be taking my camera and making a real effort to take pictures this time! Hopefully we'll have good weather so we can do some sailing and go explore some mountains.

Instantes_Jorge Luis Borges

If I could life my life again, in the next I would try to make more mistakes. I wouldn’t try to be so perfect, I would relax more. I would be dumber than I’ve been, in fact I’d take few things seriously. I would be less hygenic. I would take more risks, take more trips, contemplate more sunsets, climb more mountains, and swim more rivers. I would go more places I’ve never been, eat more icecream and fewer beans, I’d have more real problems and fewer imaginary ones.

I was one of those people who lived every minute of my life sensibly and prolifically. Of course I had moments of joy, but if I could turn back time, I would try and have only good moments. In case you aren’t aware, that is all life is, just moments. Don’t miss out now.

I was one of those people who never went anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bag, an umbrella and a parachute. If I could live again, I would travel more lightly. If I could live again I would walk barefoot from the beginning of spring until the end of fall. I would explore more coves, contemplate more sunrises and play with more children, if I once again had life ahead of me.

But I’m already 85 and I know I’m dying.

Si pudiera vivir nuevamente mi vida, en la próxima trataría de cometer más errores.No intentaría ser tan perfecto, me relajaría más.Sería más tonto de lo que he sido, de hecho tomaría muy pocas cosas con seriedad. Sería menos higiénico. Correría más riesgos, haría más viajes, contemplaría más atardeceres, subiría más montañas, nadaría más ríos. Iría a más lugares adonde nunca he ido, comería más helados y menos habas, tendría más problemas reales y menos imaginarios.

Yo fui una de esas personas que vivió sensata y prolíficamente cada minuto de su vida; claro que tuve momentos de alegría. Pero si pudiera volver atrás trataría de tener solamente buenos momentos. Por si no lo saben, de eso está hecha la vida, sólo de momentos; no te pierdas el ahora.

Yo era uno de esos que nunca iban a ninguna parte sin termómetro, una bolsa de agua caliente, un paraguas y un paracaídas. Si pudiera volver a vivir, viajaría más liviano. Si pudiera volver a vivir comenzaría a andar descalzo a principios de la primavera y seguiría así hasta concluir el otoño. Daría más vueltas en calesita, contemplaría más amaneceres y jugaría con más niños, si tuviera otra vez la vida por delante. Pero ya tengo 85 años y sé que me estoy muriendo.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

I just saw this satellite photo of the east coast of the States and although we've had a lot of London-like weather in Barcelona this winter, I have to say, I have no complaints. Those willing to abandon ship, I promise to put you up if you come visit!

Mura

A failed attempt at spending the weekend in the mountains (my fault apparently, for going out for a few beers the night before) led us to Mura, a tiny little town about an hour outside of Barcelona.

The first buildings in the town of Mura were built in the year 1088. Historically, the townspeople toiled in the fields, known for the cultivation of vineyards. Fast-forward a few centuries, and they got a textile factory in the early 1900s. A textile factory in a medieval town in the middle of the mountains of Catalonia. Go figure. The factory closed in the early 60s and the town's population nearly disappeared. It now subsists almost entirely on tourism and most of the population lives elsewhere, spending only the odd holiday in Mura. There are only 230 permanent residents.

We got there around lunchtime and had lunch at Can Carter (Carter's house) where we were left at the bar for almost an hour and a half waiting for a table while more and more people who had arrived after us were seated. It was a most exemplary model of Catalán customer service, a concept that simply doesn't exist here. No apologies were made, barely even a recognition, the woman simply wrote down our names on the list again and said she had forgotten to write us down the first time we asked for a table. Oh well. You can click on the pictures to see them a bit larger I think.

Always south of somewhere

I've decided to breathe new life into this now nearly forgotten blog of mine. Time to dust it off, pull out the cobwebs, and start again! I decided to continue this one, which I originally started when I was traveling in Brazil and studying in Argentina as a way of keeping in touch with everyone back home. Instead of starting a new one, I figure it's easier to just go with what's already in existence. And though I'm no longer in the southern hemisphere, the blog's title may still be fulfilled. Barcelona is, afterall, in southern Europe.

Moving on! This has been a seemingly short week since Monday and Tuesday were entirely taken over to recover from food poisoning. Toni and I went up to the mountains on Saturday morning and spent the night at a refugi de muntanya (a mountain refuge) run by a Flemish man by the name of Kun and his dog, Prune. We did some hiking and mostly just hung out and soaked up the fresh mountain air and the amazing views of the snow-covered Pyrenees. Before heading back down to Barcelona on Sunday, we heated up a canned bean stew with clams. It seems some of the clams may have been a bit off, because Toni and I spent all night taking turns running to the bathroom throwing up. To make matters worse, we were at the port on the boat and boat bathrooms, or the "head" as some may correct me, are tiny. So by Tuesday we were able to keep water down and we had our first meal since Sunday. A plate of boiled white rice with a little salt. After lots of water and lots of sleep, we were again ready to face the world on Wednesday.

We celebrated Toni's 29th birthday yesterday. I emailed a few of his close friends last week to organize a mini surprise and it ended up turning out really well. They all surprised him at a little bar and then we all went to dinner at a Chilean restaurant called Andú and had a great time.

I'll post pictures from the mountains once Toni emails them to me, but in the meantime, let me share with you two pictures I just took of my desk-make Jeremy Fisher. He just got his first haircut and he lives next door to Toni's tiny dead tree which I'm trying to revive.