This was one of those weekends where I breathed a sigh of relief at the thought "I'm in Spain". I have to admit I have been a little downhearted recently - not really adapting to Barcelona like a fish to water. I'm not sure if it feels like home yet. It's certainly familiar, but I'm still struggling a little to find my niche. That said, on occasion, this country really does an outstanding job of being fun. This is one of those times.
Carnaval.
When I was growing up, I always thought of Carnaval as a Brazilian thing. Now I find that it's a global celebration, with parties stretching from the Americas to Europe. Anglo-Saxon countries either just haven't cottoned on to it yet, or are too stuffy to get into it. Either way, I have been missing out! On Saturday we made sure to wake up late and do almost nothing to make sure that we wouldn't wear ourselves out too much to partake in the midnight madness! In the afternoon we chatted lazily with a pair of Greeks who are here in Spain for the match between Villareal and Panathinaikos. They haven't even got tickets, but came on the off-chance that they can pick some up at the game. Nuts! But I envy them, I've always wanted to do something like that. They are great guys, and I really enjoyed meeting again that culture I have missed for so long. After living in Melbourne, home to the largest Greek community outside of Greece, Dublin brought on a bit of Greek withdrawals. I don't think I ever even saw a Greek restaurant in the whole three years, let alone a Greek person! At about six we headed out to Sitges (picking another Greek on the way) for some pizza and beers to start the night off with.
Sitges is apparently the gay centre of Barcelona. I have only ever seen it at night, but it appears to be a fun and good sized little town, right on the beach. A bit of a train ride from Barcelona, but well worth a visit. During Carnaval it turns into a town-wide costume party, with most of the craziness concentrated in the "Calle del Pecado" (Street of Sin). The streets were fuller than at five in the afternoon on a sunny Saturday, and everyone, EVERYONE, was in costume. Our group had dressed up as pirates, but there were all kinds of animals, Sesame street, casks of wine, angels and devils, all the usual stuff. Lots and lots of crossdressing men too. The star costume of the night went to a guy dressed up as Wally. Poor guy couldn't walk five meters without a drunken reveler poking him in the chest amidst cries of "Look guys, look! WALLY! I FOUND WALLY!"
Of course with all this mess of people and my proven lack of geographic and location abilities, I knew that there was an above average chance that I would get completely, hopelessly lost. So as soon as we made it to the main plaza, I looked Erik right in the eyes, and I said firmly, "Don't lose me". He didn't say anything in reply, but his look more or less said "Yeah, whatever, I'm going to drink another beer". We began to wander down the street, and I began to talk to two girls, Gosia and Joanna (I think). I was keeping a hawk eye out for Erik, thankfully not too difficult due to his height and very round costume (if I can find pictures I will post them - super dumbass here forgot the camera). After about five minutes, Gosia stopped to take a photo and I looked away for like, a SECOND I swear, and then he was gone and so were all the other people we were with and we were all alone. No worries though. They were up ahead, so all we had to do is walk fast, and they would appear. We walked fast. They did not appear. Despite all my best intentions, I had managed to lose myself in the crowds faster than it takes me to make a tuna omelette. What about my mobile phone you ask? A very good point, Watson, but unfortunately my mobile decided that exact moment was the appropriate one in which to die and not turn on again. Super.
The three of us alone now, we walked down to the beach where Gosia and Joanna promptly got hit on by two guys (in less time than it takes Jamie Oliver to make a damn omelette, without the tuna). I had resigned myself to standing alone for the whole night while two half-drunk Argentines tried to remove the clothing of the girls I was with, when Gosia, clearly over the lovely south American accent and the obvious intentions of her suitor, asked me, "Do you remember your boyfriend's phone number?" and pointedly handed me her phone. Here came the first miracle of the night, as I have been trying to memorise those nine digits for the last seven months without success, but for some reason my rusty but sporadically brilliant brain managed to get itself into gear and fire off all the correct neurotransmitters this time in order for me to be able to, for the first time ever, punch in Erik's phone number without having to look it up first.
Long story short, despite my abysmal description of our location, they managed to find us, and thus began the chastising for having lost the group in the first place. I tried my best not to, I swear! Anyway, I might have lost the group, but the group also lost me, right? Ha!
We spent some time hanging out at the beach, chatting and drinking, and then headed for the bars (mainly 'cause we were dying to pee!). The first one had great oldie and pop music, even though the clientele was a little strange. The second one was too full and really awful. We crossed town and ended up at this half full place with a good vibe, until the doof doof music began. At the end of the night a guy from Cork came over to talk to me. He started the conversation in Spanish (which he spoke reasonably well), and I felt no compulsion to put an end to his misery. After we had been chatting for a little while he asked, predictably, "so, where are you from?" to which I replied, "I'm Australian" (soy Australiana). His look was priceless. "What? You knew that whole time I wasn't a Spanish speaker!". Hahahahaha. Anyway he suddenly lost interest in talking to me after Erik showed up. Humph. Sometimes it's nice to be talked to because someone finds you interesting, and not simply because you have two X chromosomes.
We stayed till the bar closed and then headed out to the train. Slept all the way to Barcelona, then a mercifully short taxi ride home, and crashed into bed about 06:30. Bed sweet bed.
