Dia de la Virgen de somethingorother
Okay, it's late and I have to be at work tomorrow so this will be a quick initial post. Or at least I hope so.
My deal: I've been interning here in Barcelona for a bit and ultimately something happens everyday that I know I'll want to remember. I don't know whether to write about it in my regular journal or my travel journal, so I'll put it here instead.
Last night I was chatting until late with this Irish guy, Kurt, I met online. I was THIS close to getting him to come to Girona with me today. But he was too tired. No matter. I'm not very disciplined, though, so I didn't go either. Instead I went to Montjuic. This is where my interesting day begins.
I was sitting on a bench under a trellis rife with plantlife. It was sprinkling but I didn't mind at all because it was muggy and Montjuic has a LOT of steps to climb so I found the rain refreshing. An older man (50ish) dressed for jogging took shelter under the opposite bow. I let him know it was okay to sit on the bench. He asked if I was German, I said no. I asked where the Mercat de Flors was and he said he would show me once the rain let up. And he did. He had a car and I agreed to get in not because I trusted him, necessarily, but because I know the emergency number here is 091. And it was daylight. So there. Anyway, he didn't rape me but instead kept his word. The market was closed but he showed me where the castle was (GREAT view of the sea) and the Miro museum. We chattted about mundane things and walked a bit.
Of course, at one point he tried to hit on me. Sat a little too close. And TOUCHED MY HAIR, which for those of you who know me is a huge no-no. Don't even think about it.
Anyway, I begged off eventually. He offered to drive me home but honestly, I'm really not that stupid. He asked for my number. I lied and said I didnt know it. I said "you give me yours". No dice. No email, either. Then he mentions that his wife (of course there's a wife he has failed to mention up til now) is a very jealous woman. Jesus, I wonder why. (Men never understand that we don't start out crazy, they MAKE us that way). Anyway, I agreed to meet him on Thursday at 7:30 at a place near Montjuic. LOL! Of COURSE I'm not going to go, especially after he stressed that he would come. If he said he will, then he will, and he expects me to come as well.
Might stand across the street to see how long the old fucker waits, though. I hope it rains. What a bastard.
NEXT I met up with Misha from NYC, a new student at a business school here in BCN. He seemed really nice. We hung out with his future classmates, many of whom he hadn't met before, either. The festival in Gracia tonight was fucking BEYOND WORDS. Really. You better hope I get someone to send me photos because I'm not even gonna try. Drums, demons, fireworks, papier mache, mojitos, rain, whatever. All good. AND everyone in the program was really nice and most just assumed I was a fellow student. In fact, I think I talked to everyone. We all had an amazing dinner at a place called Restaurante Sporting located at Maspons 16, wherever the hell in Gracia that is. Lots of weird, good entrees and TONS of black rice paella. I was starving since I hadn't eaten all day.
The director's husband was a big, burly, mustachioed Spanaird who listened to my problems like the father I never had (I mean I have one, but not one who listens like that) and gave me decent advice. I might not want to take it or hear it, but it was good. And he really meant well. I really respect him for that.
And now I've been home for a bit. I feel okay. I should really go to sleep.
Oh, and the old dude was like missing most (no, not all :P) of one of his front teeth. I didn't wanna judge by appearances, but you know, maybe I should have.
My deal: I've been interning here in Barcelona for a bit and ultimately something happens everyday that I know I'll want to remember. I don't know whether to write about it in my regular journal or my travel journal, so I'll put it here instead.
Last night I was chatting until late with this Irish guy, Kurt, I met online. I was THIS close to getting him to come to Girona with me today. But he was too tired. No matter. I'm not very disciplined, though, so I didn't go either. Instead I went to Montjuic. This is where my interesting day begins.
I was sitting on a bench under a trellis rife with plantlife. It was sprinkling but I didn't mind at all because it was muggy and Montjuic has a LOT of steps to climb so I found the rain refreshing. An older man (50ish) dressed for jogging took shelter under the opposite bow. I let him know it was okay to sit on the bench. He asked if I was German, I said no. I asked where the Mercat de Flors was and he said he would show me once the rain let up. And he did. He had a car and I agreed to get in not because I trusted him, necessarily, but because I know the emergency number here is 091. And it was daylight. So there. Anyway, he didn't rape me but instead kept his word. The market was closed but he showed me where the castle was (GREAT view of the sea) and the Miro museum. We chattted about mundane things and walked a bit.
Of course, at one point he tried to hit on me. Sat a little too close. And TOUCHED MY HAIR, which for those of you who know me is a huge no-no. Don't even think about it.
Anyway, I begged off eventually. He offered to drive me home but honestly, I'm really not that stupid. He asked for my number. I lied and said I didnt know it. I said "you give me yours". No dice. No email, either. Then he mentions that his wife (of course there's a wife he has failed to mention up til now) is a very jealous woman. Jesus, I wonder why. (Men never understand that we don't start out crazy, they MAKE us that way). Anyway, I agreed to meet him on Thursday at 7:30 at a place near Montjuic. LOL! Of COURSE I'm not going to go, especially after he stressed that he would come. If he said he will, then he will, and he expects me to come as well.
Might stand across the street to see how long the old fucker waits, though. I hope it rains. What a bastard.
NEXT I met up with Misha from NYC, a new student at a business school here in BCN. He seemed really nice. We hung out with his future classmates, many of whom he hadn't met before, either. The festival in Gracia tonight was fucking BEYOND WORDS. Really. You better hope I get someone to send me photos because I'm not even gonna try. Drums, demons, fireworks, papier mache, mojitos, rain, whatever. All good. AND everyone in the program was really nice and most just assumed I was a fellow student. In fact, I think I talked to everyone. We all had an amazing dinner at a place called Restaurante Sporting located at Maspons 16, wherever the hell in Gracia that is. Lots of weird, good entrees and TONS of black rice paella. I was starving since I hadn't eaten all day.
The director's husband was a big, burly, mustachioed Spanaird who listened to my problems like the father I never had (I mean I have one, but not one who listens like that) and gave me decent advice. I might not want to take it or hear it, but it was good. And he really meant well. I really respect him for that.
And now I've been home for a bit. I feel okay. I should really go to sleep.
Oh, and the old dude was like missing most (no, not all :P) of one of his front teeth. I didn't wanna judge by appearances, but you know, maybe I should have.
posted by sucktastic at 5:34 PM
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