So it turns out the bar crawl job is a waste of time – the night I spoke of last time I wrote, when I was going to the bar crawl job, was cancelled, and I was only told of this when I text messaged at what time I would be starting work that day. So I went skating with my friend Jurek from Poland instead, so it wasn´t that annoying. It began to be really annoying the next day.
The next day I went skating with Jurek and Ignasi, a friendly quiet chap from round here, when we took the train from Passeig de Gracia to Sant Feliu de Llobregat to a skate park. I was tired and the sun was hot so I took frequent breaks to sit on my skateboard. I was mainly rolling around and practicing the olly and related skills, because I still have not mastered the olly. The skatepark ground is painted so it is a lot smoother than other terrain, and rolling down one slope at unexpected smooth speed, the skateboard shot out from under me and I fell, cracking my head on the ground. I thought I was dead, but I was not, and there was not even a bump or any blood at all – even though I thought my head had cracked.
After this time at the skatepark we returned to Sants Estacio. On the walk back to the train station I saw a man carrying groceries home with him. From one of the bags I saw a baguette that had broken in half and the top half was missing – one could only see the paper wrapper flopped over empty. This all sounds trivial and boring but! The next thing I see as I walk on ahead is the half of the baguette that he was carrying; it had fallen and it was fresh and it must have just fallen so I picked it up and took it home and I had half a baguette for free! Fresh! So fresh!
So then we went to Sants Estacio where we skated til we found the skateshop called FREE where we waited for ages before being some of the first in the queue to get a free skate hat! Mine was bright yellow, that orangey kind of yellow, and I designed the front of the hat with VOLCOM stickers that were heat-pressed on. I also got a free Fanta Limon.
Thinking I still was meeting Leo to run at 6pm, I had to dash off home as quickly as I could – only to wait at Pl.Espanya for 20 minutes before calling him and he saying that he wasn´t going to be able to make it. So I walked home. And later I rang my bar crawl job to see if work was on, because they hadn´t called me, and they told me that it wasnt on again, sorry that they had not called. This, as you maybe can see, was annoying, because the same thing had happened the day before, and the same thing happened with Leo, and then it happened again, without them telling me, I had to call – and I wasn´t even getting paid. Anger began to rise when the next day Leo didnt go forthe rescheduled run and the same thing happened with the bar crawl job. Making so much time empty because you are busy, then finding you are not busy is really frustrating and I got unimaginably restless. So when I went home for Easter in this agitation, getting up at 5.30am in the morning and rolling with my hand luggage to the bus station (BARCELONA NORD) to get the bus to Girona, I was well and truly ready for a holiday – and the week I was at home was not enough. On the Sunday night, a day before I flew home, I went with Tania to watch Happythankyoumoreplease (not sure if it is one word or not) and we got Bicing home at 23.59, a moment before the bikes stop being able to be used, and this was really fun. We raced home throwing popcorn at each other from our front baskets and it was great. This memory was good enough to finish off this before-Easter hard time, and all my pains, so I went away in some kind of peace.
In my week at home it was hotter and sunnier than anywhere else – one day I even had the time to read in the sun lying in the garden between the falling cotton and the millions of flying insects, whereas Barcelona had been tucked into a cloud, only being set free upon my return. I suspect the sun came home with me, and then accompanied me back, which was really nice. A week was not enough though, what with Easter services and seeing family. My grandma from Poland was visiting, and I tried to see everyone in the time I had. And reading THE FOOD OF LOVE, a book about Italians in Italy and love and food and ristretti and espressos and so much food, I enjoyed my break and recovered from my pain. Such a long post I will cease here and continue in a new post later to talk about recent goings-on. I will go now then, so have a nice day and speak to you soon!
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