Barcelona March 2015 Last 3rd.,

The Big Heads 
Mercury Shoes
The Monster Flea
Now I know 

THE BIG HEADS 

A Few Big Heads

For weeks Marta and I had talked about going to the Big Head Museum.  It's proper name is,   La Casa dels Entremesos,  but in true Darryl fashion I just renamed it. I tend to do that because if it's more than a one syllable word, I just make up my own. This is particularly problematic when I'm giving directions. Unless you are carrying the Dictionary of Darrylisms, you are doomed to wander the labyrinth of my mono syllable world.  

There is a tradition of making giant figures to represent important people. These figures then took a prominent  place in parades, fiestas and any event that meant a day off. The tradition goes back to the days of reverence, but over time the giants have also been created to depict fun and fantasy. It's even gotten to the point where giant wee ones have been made for children to carry.  That's how the giants get around. Someone is inside this elaborate structure parading and often times dancing them, as part of the event.   It's fun to watch a giant that measures every bit of 4 meters (12 feet) dancing with another giant in a plaza here in Barcelona. 

Not far from my flat is the museum where the giants are housed. The museum is open for free on Sunday's from 10:00 until 14:00, but for some reason that time frame was impossible for  Marta's and my schedules . That was true until the day when it became our stated mission to make that a Sunday walk.  It was a nice day for a walk and we were on a mission to see the Big Heads, as I so dubbed the museum. When we got there we were told that a number of the giants were out parading around, so we had to be content with the remaining figures. I was just happy to have gotten there so I could put on my codpiece and strut around like Georgie Bush Junior, proclaiming "Mission Accomplished".  

Mr. Huff & Puff's Problem

Marta wandered around the museum while I strutted, looking at the remaining representatives of this truly Catalunyian tradition.  It's a small museum, so it didn't take to long to view the variety of remaining figures. I wanted to take a picture of one of the children's wee one giants, but there was one of those velvet museum ropes in front of it.  Marta asked the man at the desk if we could move it for a picture. After a great huff and a puff about it not being normal and even a greater huff and puff when he got up to move the rope 1 meter (3 feet) to the left and eventually  back again. I offered my codpiece,  if he was worried about  exploding his manhood. He didn't speak English and there was no way Marta was translating that comment. I took the picture and stepped back. Just in case. 

We were ushered out at precisely at closing time by Mr Huff & Puff. As we stood in the little plaza in front of the museum, the giants began to return from their romp in the city. Now we not only got to see all the missing giants, but also how they are operated. It was a complete tour at that point. 

MERCURY SHOES

In a very short period of time Marta's life went from your normal everyday sort of life to a carnival ride that had lost its brakes. The point where her carnie ride from hell hit the wall was the week coming into Palm Sunday. 

That week her father passed away and left a trail of loose ends that would consume hours of time she didn't have. That left the preparations for Palm Sunday up to the very last hour that someone else had not claimed. 

It is the tradition here for the God Parent to get the palms and gifts for their God Children and give them to them as part of the Palm Sunday goings on. Having two God Children of her own and being asked to buy for another, Marta,  was now going to do some serious power shopping on the Buy Stuff Saturday.    I wasn't doing anything that Saturday, so I signed up for her bag lady run. Think of it as a 5K run with shopping bags. There is usually a little street fair in a plaza near my house, so we started there. The idea was to find things that were unique, and not expensive.  Zip, zip, done. One God Daughter done. Before leaving the plaza, we stopped at the Mercury Shoe Store. 

We moved through the Born with the wings of Mercury at our feet. A two store strikeout and then we hit the mother load of Unique Toy Land. I stood in the corner playing with the little cars while Marta pin balled around the store. Ding, ding, game over!! Second God Daughter done. One more to go. 

Note to self:   Don't start flapping those Mercury wings until you are out of the store, or at least until you open the door. Marta scraped me off the door and away we went. Now we were on our way to the Rambla. A main tourist destination of Barcelona. On the Rambla you can get whatever you want and be fleeced too.  It also just happens to be the place where a number of small flower vendors are located. 

The plan was to locate the gift for Virginia on the way. Yes, Marta's sister Virginia,  is also her God

Just a cute cat picture

Daughter.  I think in this case you just reverse the words,  as so many languages do,  compared to English and you end up with Virginia being God's Daughter and Marta simply being the provider of the gifts God didn't have time to buy.   We had no sooner gotten up to light speed and we came across the right store for Virginia. It was the store where cat lovers go to get things they never thought about buying but simply must have once they've seen them. I didn't have any cars to play with and cat toys really aren't my style, so I just looked at things that made no sense to me while Marta found the "just right" things.  I asked her if she had to get God's ok before she checked out. Wrong smart-ass thing to say. She kick-started my wings and I went splat again. 

Note to self:  While wearing Mercury Shoes, make smart-ass comments outside. Now we were in full turbo mode to the Rambla. The customary market for palms is the Rambla de Catalunya, but that area was just too far away for the two and a half minutes of rental we had left on our shoes. 

Palm Art & Gifts

I thought we were after some green leaves off a Palm tree. Ha ha silly me. I should have known that this holiday had also been turned into an industry. Palm leaves are woven into very elaborate patterns of various sizes. They look nothing like leaves. They are now woven palm art.  The smaller the palm art is, the more it costs. The price is driven by the amount of work and small ones are much harder to make.  We stopped at the first vendor and found a rotund man who Marta enjoyed talking to. She found the  "just right"  art palms,  just as the one minute warning on the shoes sounded. We turned on our heals and sped off for our final two stops. 

No industrial Christian holiday would be complete without candy. We stopped and picked up some candy Rosaries.   Not being Catholic, I had to ask just what the purpose of the Rosary was.  We bought a couple of small pastries to munch on while we sped off back to Unique Toy Land and I learned all about the Rosary. 

Palm Art & Goo Doll

On our previous stop at the toy store,  Marta had bought a doll. The clerk then writes the child's name on the front with some magic goo, that needs a few minutes to set up and dry. Now we were stopping back to pick up the goo doll. The clerk was still cleaning my goo from the door that Marta had scraped me off of. They made me stay outside with the other customers rodent dog. 

With the doll in hand and the 30 second buzzer ringing in our ears, we hit warp speed 4 and pulled into the Mercury Shoe rental shop with a split second to go.   This day was going to bring about some happy smiles on Palm Sunday due to Marta's determined power shopping and I had another day of learning about things I hadn't heard of.  

Note to self: Running a 5K with shopping bags can be fun,  given the right frame of mind. 

THE MONSTER FLEA 

On Palm Sunday there was going to be a combined flea market at the Mercat dels Encants Flea market, Barcelona's biggest flea market. On this Sunday, the Lost and Found Market,  a flea market that travels around the city, using different venues, was going to be at the Encants market. This promised to make for A flea market of biblical proportions.  

Jordi,  being a fellow junker,  had agreed to go with me to see about getting more things we didn't need. As a recovering dumpster diver I now rely on the Former Divers 12 Step Program. 

Step 1. You Don't Need It

Step 2.  At least make a list 

Step 3 thru 12. See list 

I laughed all the time I reread step one and made my list.  I had 4 things on my list. A list may take

the fun out of going to a flea market, but it can put the fun back in your day when you still have money enough for a beer and a bikini (sandwich).  

We made the 20 minute walk to the market. It was then that I relized that not having a car was also very beneficial to the recovering diver. Maybe step 3 should be, sell your car.  We entered the mass of people and spent about two hours in the crush until it was time for that beer and bikini I mentioned.  I had found nothing on my list and Jordie who had no list,  was now sporting a plastic bag full of treasures. Tools weren't on my list but I got the heebee jeebees  when I came across the only guy in this mass of vendors, selling tools that were worth buying. I caved in and bought a few. 

I walked back to my flat with only a 10€ tool fix. I also had the knowledge  that even a Monster Flea Market at dels Encants can't produce the things I want for the price I want to pay.  I'm almost done with my rehab.

NOW I KNOW

I need a work room where I can play with my tools. In retrospect, I've had a space where I could make a mess, my entire life. This flat is only the second place I've ever lived in that didn't have a work space. 

The first was a flat I shared in Stockholm years ago.  That wasn't a real problem because I was working construction, so I had a work space all day long. This time I'm not working,  so when I want to play with my tools, it means using the kitchen table.  The saving grace is that the kitchen table is very rustic, so I can only add to its character. This point was driven home when I wanted to do some little fixer upper projects on my flat. The kitchen and the table became my impromptu work shop. This simply is not a good idea given the depth of my mess making skills. 

Now I know. The next time I rent a place to live, it will have a space where I can play with my little iron friends,  with complete abandon. 

Barcelona February 2015,

Barcelona, February 2015

The Delta Del Llobregat 

The area that is now Barcelona was inhabited by the Iberians, who named it Barkeno.  It was the Romans who established the city that is now Barcelona.  In doing so they established a city between two rivers, thereby ensuring a good source of fresh water and the means to flush the city clean.   To the northish (direction France) you have the Basòs River. To the southsortof,  (direction not France) you have the Rio Llobregat. This river's delta was to be the weekend excursion.  It has been my good fortune to have Marta as a tour guide, showing me the places in and around Barcelona that are not in the tourists guides. This little sanctuary of nature just outside of the city and next to the El Prat International Airport serves as a reminder that if man tries to provide a habitat for wildlife;  within his surroundings, that nature will adapt much more readily to modern man than vice versa. 

The village of El Prat is on the other side of the river and home to airport named after the village that

endures the constant sound of airplanes. Marta told me that when she was a child her family, like many others;  they would go out to the airport, sit in the huge outside terrace and just watch the planes and people. Those where the days when air travel was new, exciting and glamours.    Now it's far from glamours.  People once dressed up to go on an airplane. Almost as if they were going out for a formal night. Now you dress down to the point of shorts, T-shits and flip flops , so you can get through security. The hand luggage that once bore proudly the names of famous airlines no longer exist just as those airlines no longer exist.  No, the idea of taking the family out to the airport to watch airplanes and glamours people is long gone. 

Like most rivers that flow through metropolitan areas, the banks of the Llobregat became the location for industry, which has always thrived where it could use a river for energy or as a sewer.  The most famous of these adaptations by man from

natural river to polluted sewer  Is the Cuyahoga River, in Ohio. Most people in the States have heard how it caught fire once and helped to spur the clean water act of the 1970's. What is not known,  is the the river caught fire no less than 13 times. 

I doubt the Llobregat reached that level of pollution, but I'm sure it's history has gone from pristine river to polluted industrial sewer to reclaimed waterway. I got to see it in this latter phase of its long life.  Another element that touched this river and the area it encompassed were the shanty towns that grew up along it in response to the industries and to the ever increasing land prices in Barcelona. Like the pollution, the negativity of the shanty towns

Looking upstream 

reached a tipping point and the occupants were relocated to safe and sanitary developments, so that the reclamation of the river could be complete.  I'm glad I missed its midlife crisis. The river and its delta area have been reclaimed as much as possible and set aside for wildlife to return and for people to enjoy. 

Looking out to Mediterranean  

The day started out warm and sunny, which lulled us into shedding our heavy coats in favor of lighter spring jackets. We were forced to return to the car and walk in a different direction by a locked gate, baring us from the rivers outlet to the Mediterranean.  Normally this route is open, but a construction project had closed it.   As long as we were back to the car, we left our heavy coats and went to the other half of the delta. This was a very pleasant walk, but it too bared us from the beach. That area was closed due to it being the beginning of the nesting season.  We climbed an observation tower and took in the surroundings as the clouds moved in and made it clear that we should have brought those heavy coats with us. 

On the way back to the car we stopped at a bird watching blind and watched a pond area that was home to

a number of very interesting and active waterfowl. The chill finely sent us on our way. Perhaps the chill was why those birds were so active.  We passed a grove of Mediterranean Pines that had been undisturbed for many years, allowing you to have a glimpse of how the high crown forests of these pines must have looked many years ago.  Given the dropping temperature of the day, it was easy to see how these great forests were cut down for heating, as well as other things. 

The El Prat Beach, near the airport

Back to the car, just as the gates were closing and we were on our way. Having been twice denied access to the beach, we elected to go out to the beach area of El Prat. This is a large and undeveloped area that is generally overlooked by beach goers, in favor of more popular areas.   I thought it had a beautifully rustic and natural feel, making it much more appealing to me than the developed beach areas. If beach going were something I did more, I would consider the drive out to El Prat, well worth the trip. Now it was not only cold, it was dark. Time to call it a day and the end of another weekend outing,  off the tourist map. 

Barcelona March 2015 Second 3rd,

Barcelona.  

March 2015

A Walk, March 15th 

There had been a cold and rainy spell come through that had settled in for some days, but fortunately it broke on the 15th.  This break allowed for a long overdue walk. 

Like the walk at the Llobregat  River Delta, this was to be a little walk in a natural area on the edge of Barcelona, just on the the other side of Tibidabo,  One of the two hills (called mountains) that pinpoint the Barcelona basin. Tibidabo to the Northwestish  and  Montjuïc to the Southwestish,  are situated so that from out at sea, it's very easy to recognize that you are abreast of Barcelona. 

The train system is comprised of the Metro, that runs hither and yon, providing an underground system for the city. Then there are the FGC commuter trains that go to some of the outlying towns that have become suburbs. Then there are the regional RENFE trains that travel well out into the country, and make up the long distance trains that take you across the entire country or into other parts of Europe. 

The terminus for the commuter train is in the city center at Plaça Catalunya. That is where this walk will begin

Plaça Catalunya

and end. Marta knew of Consorci del Parc de Collserola, a  little park area  just on the other side of Tibidabo. Since the train goes under the mountain, it was only about a 15 minute ride  we got out and headed toward a little natural area that has a dam with a nice pond behind it. This water project once served as a water supply for  the villages in the area. It may still today, but I doubt it. We lingered in the long overdue spring sunlight, taking in this little post card before moving on. 

We headed around the pond and up the hill behind it. The trail was new to Marta, but she was reasonably sure it would lead us up to the village of Villvidrera. It is located on a high ridge on Tibidabo that affords it views out over Barcelona and the sea, but also out to the countryside on the opposite side toward Les Planes.  We wandered around the village as we often do on these walks, admiring the diverse architecture that makes up such a large part of the charm, that is Catalunya and Spain. 

The cold was not as bad as it had been in the days previous and the sun had been out, but now the cold was returning and taking the sunshine away. It was time to be moving on before the rain returned too. We traveled down the mountain on the Funicular, . An inclined car that goes up and down the mountain on a cable. It's a rather cleaver design whereby there are two cars at either end of a cable that act as counterweights to one another. There is only a single track, but there is a passing spot, where the track splits, and the two cars can pass each other. Presumably if everything were in balance, they would counter each other there and stop. I'm sure that the centrifugal force of the downward car, is more than enough force to keep that from happening. Undoubtedly there are a number of mechanical forces at play too, but I'll leave that for the engineer in you to sort out. 

We walked down (very literally ) to Sarriá Sant Gervasi. The area where  a great deal of Marta's youth was spent. Then her children's school years, her work is there and the future home of her mother will be there also.  This part of Barcelona, was, is, and will be, a part of the Fabra family. This village, which is now just another neighborhood in Barcelona was once a community onto itself.  I'm glad she knew the area well, because unlike Barcelona proper, it's  a family area and almost everything is closed on Sunday's. She guided us to a cafe for something hot to drink and a bite to eat. 

Here a hot chocolate is exactly that. It's a cup of melted chocolate. Not even close to the mix where you add hot

water and stir. I had tried a couple at some restaurants, but I was disappointed, given that it should have been more like melted chocolate and not so close to being a thickened mix, which I think it was. I had lamented to Marta about this once and told her that I needed to try a hot chocolate outside of Barcelona sometime. I was pretty sure that what I had was the tourist mix.   She ordered me a hot chocolate and this time I could plant my spoon upright in this cup of steaming  chocolate. A local pastry for dipping and a two piece bikini. Oh, that's a small sandwich cut in two. Why is a small sandwich called a bikini?I have no idea, but there is a logic to it. 

We walked on down to the to the former office of the doctor Marta works for. He had just retired and closed the office and in during so, had gutted out the equipment and everything else. The everything included some nice cabinets that Marta wanted for her kitchen. We had moved a couple already, but from the doctor's garage. This walk past the old office was a recon for the next move, so I would know where to go. A line I have heard many times in my life. Now I knew where the office was and how to get there. With the completion of the recon, we hopped on the metro and went back to Plaça Cataluyna, where we had started. Marta's train home would take about 30 minutes and my walk home would take about 15. We had a nice walk and now had a plan for her next cabinet acquisition.   

The Carpintero 

The moving day came with ample preparation and planning. Well, almost. The cabinet was very long and it just fit in Marta's station wagon, with the help of some bunjies to keep the back closed. There was also the borrowed hand truck, or dolly if you prefer, that proved indispensable. 

We were doing just fine with the move right up to the elevator. The European standard for most household items is

Unless you know a carpenter

a maximum of 2 meters in height. This is because doors are 2 meters, 10 centimeters in height. So are a lot of stairwells and elevators.  It turned out that the cabinet would fit in the car and the kitchen, but not the elevator.  If the elevator had been just 10 centimeters (4 inches) deeper, we could have at least gotten it up to her floor and undoubtedly our next set of obstacles. Since Marta's house is on the 5th floor,  this situation was now a problem in search of a solution. 

There are companies that specialize in this problem. They have trucks that have telescoping rails that a self leveling  platform can go up and down on. I've seen these go as high as eight stories. Of course this would be quite expensive for one cabinet, so it wasn't an option. Hoisting it up the outside of the building by hand was not an option either.  Fortunately it wouldn't fit in the stairwell, so there would be no need for a hernia operation after fighting it up five floors in a narrow stairwell. 

The Carpintero

It came down to two viable options. Throw it away and admit defeat, or cut it in two and reassemble it in the kitchen. Marta had a power saw and I have a hand saw and a drill, so admiring defeat would have to come later, if at all.   It was decided to go with plan C or D, I'm not sure which.  We had lost track of possibilities by then.  Marta gave me a lift into town, so I could load my tools into her car. I think the idea of me pushing my baby stroller loaded with tools, on and off the metro and then the tram, was more than she could bare. The next day I loaded a few forgotten tools into my backpack and headed out to Marta's place after my Spanish class.

In true contractor style, I showed up at the job at the crack of 11:30. Just in time for lunch. Wrong lunch hour though.  Lunch is at 2:00 in Catalunya, so I still had some time for work. The cabinet, now known as Mobby Dick, in

The Lobby Shop

every sense, was beached in the lobby of Marta's building. She had left a note on Moby the day before letting the neighbors know  it was her cabinet and that the carpenter was coming to work on it. I don't read Spanish very well, but I think the last part said something like,  you can take it. 

No such luck. It was still beached there when I arrived. I set up my lobby workshop and proceeded to make all the sounds a carpenter makes inside the masonry echo chamber that was previously a nice quiet entrance lobby. Fortunately most the people in that building work during the day, so if a carpenter is sawing and drilling in the lobby and there is no one to hear him, is he making a lot of noise?  

Hack, hack, saw, saw, oops! Good thing I'm not a surgeon. I was invited to the the 2:00 lunch, but by then my over zealous work ethic had kicked in and I was only interested in getting Moby out of that lobby and in Marta's kitchen, where he would be mounted on the wall like the trophy he was.  It was a pleasure to walk the two haves that only the day before combined to be my nemesis, into the elevator. 

Once in the kitchen the lure of the delicious lunch I had so reluctantly passed up earlier overcame my work ethic. Refreshed and re-energized, I set out to mount Moby's halves to the wall and creat my FrankenMoby.  I was glad Marta had gone back to work because it's always good to use someone's kitchen as your experimental laboratory while they are away. I did miss not having an Igor though. Even half a Moby was still a challenge for getting up on the wall. 

When Marta got home from work she found FrankenMoby mounted to her wall and me putting the final touches on it. Fortunately I had time to clean things up a bit before she arrived.  The amount of mess one Mad Carpenter can make in his laboratory tends to leave the homeowner feeling victimized. It was now time to walk away and let the glue dry.  As much as I like glue, watching it dry is not the fun part.  I came back the next day to remove the clamps, put all the parts and pieces in place, bang some pots and pans together to simulate thunder and lightning and shout,
"it's alive!!!"   

Why people let me in their homes still amazes me.  

The Photo Gallery

Villvidrera overlooking Barcelona

Villvidrera, a house with a poem

The Poem

The mounted FrankenMoby 

Barcelona March 2015 First 3rd.,

Barcelona,

March  2015

I'm writing this story based on the pictures I have in my phone. 

Harlem

First up, a night out at the Harlem Jazz Club, over in the Barri Gòtic area of Barcelona.  A *Barri (barrio) is just a neighborhood.  Barcelona is comprised of many neighborhoods. Some were just areas that developed at different times while others were once outlying villages that were consumed by the city and then incorporated into it. Fortunately many of Barcelona's barrio's have retained much of their original style, lending to the amazing diversification that makes up Barcelona's architecture.   

Bonnie  belting it out

Bonnie had an acquaintance come to town on business so it was decided that they would go out to a jam session at the Harlem. Since it's not far from my house I was invited to come out of my cave and whoop it up on a Tuesday night.  Bonnie had sworn off singing at jam sessions because of the inconsistency of the musicians you jam with. With no practice whatsoever the two songs that she usually gets to sing are a borderline mess.   This night was to be an exception to her conviction. 

Bonnie always wants to do better than good enough, which by all measure her songs were better than that. She finished her songs, left the stage and once again swore off jam sessions. A shame for those of us who only get to hear her sing at such impromptu venues. Great, bad or good enough, it's always a pleasure to hear her sing. Maybe someday she'll fall in with some regular musicians who will make it possible for us to hear her sing at the top of her game. 

Street Shopping

Street shopping is my phrase for looking for treasures in the trash that is put out on the street. Barcelona works day and night at keeping the city clean. There are municipal trash cans everywhere and street crews that sweep, wash and scrub streets and sidewalks. The city wide recycling system works well and there are large containers all over the city for refuse. On top of all this, each neighborhood is allowed to put whatever they want to be rid of out on the street one day a week for pickup between 5:00 & 8:00pm.   

This makes for easy pickings if you are inclined as I am to go street shopping. Most of the time I am looking for particular items, but once in a while I get caught up in the irresistible urge to take home a treasure. One night while I was walking home I passed through a neighborhood where street night was in full force. As a recovering dumpster diver, this test was particularly taxing, especially since I didn't need anything and I had no business looking. I should have run to the first halfway house or metro station, but I caved.  I saw a baby stroller and a bunch of picture frames. The stroller had wheels and the frames were made out of wood. I didn't have a chance. I gathered them up and took them home.  I justified the stroller because it had wheels which meant it could carry things, so I didn't have to.   The frames were just because. 

My Barcelona Pickup

The stroller sat out in my entrance for the longest time. It had a future with me, I just didn't know when. Then when came along.   I stumbled on to this little fix-it job for a language school. The owner need the work done and I could trade for more Spanish classes. Now it was time to turn the stroller into my urban pickup.  I put my new pickup in my car wash,  (shower) cleaned it up real nice and proceeded to bunji my duffel bag full of tools into it. 

The job was about a 30 minute walk from my house, so I allowed 45 minutes for going slower with a stroller loaded down with tools. My Barcelona Pickup performed flawlessly and allowed me to schlep an entire bag of tools to the job without having to do much toting. As you can imagine,  I was the only person I've ever seen pushing his tools through Barcelona, or any place for that matter,  in a recycled baby stroller.   

Collages

I've collect pamphlets, brochures, business cards and maps wherever my wanderings have taken me. I have always done this but over the years most of this collection has been thrown away for lack of space or life changing purges. Old habits are hard to break, so I had managed to accumulate a pretty good pile of memories in the short time I've been in Europe this winter. Now,  what is a sentimental fool to do with his pile?  Collage.  Something else I've been fond of. I once littered,  to my parents chagrin,  my bedroom wall with clippings of things that mattered to me.  Since then, I've kept my collages off my walls and inside frames. 

I owned a dozen picture frames from my night of street shopping, so it was time to get busy making collages out of my memories and the strange pictures I've gathered up. The leftover frames will either go to a good home or back to the street. What goes around can go around again. 

Leah

There I was late one night,  just a-walkin' down the street singin' do-wah diddy-diddy down diddy-do. Well, maybe not, but it was late and I was walking.  I suddenly, as if things ever happen in slow motion,  got a text from Bonnie. She wanted to know where I was and what I was up to?  A strange line of questioning at that time of day, so I let her know that I was  just a-walkin' down the street singin' do-wah diddy-diddy.  

Leah

Ok, she said, now take your do-wah over to the Harlem Jazz club and escort my friend Leah home. There is this creepy guy that's been shadowing her all night.  I put my do-wah into diddy gear and headed that way. I needed Bonnie to beam me the address again though. The one night I was there was not enough to embed into my memory which series of twisted alleys and streets that make up the Gòtic,  would get me there. 

I had never met Leah, but I had seen a picture of her on The Facebook before.   I could have sworn the young lady sitting outside on the stoop was her, but I sent a text to Bonnie asking for verification. She sent me this picture, which I showed to the young lady while I asked her if it was her.  Oh! You're Bonnie's dad.   Even at this point in my life I'm Bonnie's dad.  It seems that events in our lives cause us to loose our identity. Rather than being Darryl, I've been Dr. Kimmel's boy. Her husband, Bonnie's dad, Adam's dad and of course, hey you!  I introduced myself; hi, I'm Bonnie's Dad, and suggested we go. 

I was going to walk her to the bus stop so she would be free of Mr. Creepy. We took 10 steps and were immediately joined by a young man at Leah's side. I asked him if he was going to the bus stop with us and surprise, surprise, he was.  I talked to Leah as we walked and we both ignored the shadow person on her other side. That didn't faze this guy at all. When we got to the bus stop she asked him what bus he was taking. His response was that he didn't know. 

I knew. The one Leah is taking.  OK, time to flush this turd. I turned my back to him and asked her if she wanted to go for a wine. She started to say no, but noticed I was nodding yes and rolling my eyes toward him. Oh, yes!   She told him that she was going with me for a drink and off we went. Apparently he caught the hint and didn't try to join us again. We circled the block, but since he could still be at the bus stop,  we walked up the street in search of the next bus stop.  The sign said the next bus was in 36 minutes, so that meant it was time for a cab. Neither of us were interested in making this into an all nighter. I offered to pay the cab fare and to that she said, oh, I couldn't ask you to do that. I reminded her I just offered, that's different. You can take the money,  or we can wait for the bus. Taxi!!

Mary & Bonnie

Mary Kane Carlson, aka, Bonnie's Mom, came to visit.  It had been about 15 months since Mary last saw Bonnie, so they had some catching up to do.  She had a nice stay despite the series of spring showers that had settled in during her time here.  A couple of highlights were when we went to watch Bonnie dance at the Apollo Jazz Club.  Not that Apollo. The one in Barcelona. 

Bonnie & Mary

Bonnie has taken up swing dancing in a big way and during the week and weekends, there are swing dance events throughout the city. Mary had been  to a couple events, because if you hang with Bonnie, you are going to 

Dancing in the Metro

swing  dance events.  The other event I was fortunate enough to attend came later that same night.  After the the Apollo closed, we were off to the metro, but not to simply go home. There was that, but in the Passage de Gracia metro station, some authority had placed a baby grand piano for anyone and everyone to play. Bonnie's roommate, Omar, wanted to get in a few licks before the metro closed for the night, so off we went. 

Omar is teaching himself to play and was keen on having such a nice piano in such a big hall, to play his song. When we got there a fellow was knocking out some dance tunes, so Bonnie and Omar, went right into full swing dance mode. They would have been cuttin a rug, had there been one. There we were in one of Barcelona's biggest metro stations on a Friday night, watching Omar and Bonnie dance while some guy on the piano banged out some real lively tunes. 

Cars

I was walking around and came upon a curb-side charging station for electric vehicles. Since then I've come across a few more. This one had an electric moto (scooter) though. The first one of those I've seen.  I wonder if there is some type of rebate for buying an electric moto? Do you suppose I could put a sidecar on it? 

Barcelona is trying very hard to get people out of their cars and into alternative forms of transportation. They have a massive mass transit system, free bicycles stationed all over the city, huge pedestrian areas and sidewalks and they keep making the streets smaller by putting in dedicated bike lanes. As an recovering autoholic, this is very enlightening. It will be interesting to see if Barcelona can successfully wean people from their cars. 

Bummer

My view became a construction site. Obviously I don't mind living in a construction site, since I did for almost 30 years, but that was my doing.  I woke up one Saturday to a louder than usual clammer outside and realized I was looking at a man in a hardhat standing in front of my balcony.  

I was immediately grateful that he was wearing more than just a hardhat, but a bit surprised to see him there. It turned out my landlord was equally surprised, since no one bothered to tell her that the balconies on the building were going to be repaired.  She called the property manager and was told the job would only last 10 days. When she told me that, I snickered the snicker of a well versed under estimator and resigned myself to my new view.  Three weeks later I got my window and balcony back.  I missed them both. 

A few more things happened in March, but they get a little story of their own.