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.