Tick-Tock Hops the Clock, Barcelona

Time was supposed to have come to a stand still once I’d left South America, and in a sense it kind of did. The dream was over, and I’d fortified my chances of keeping on in good spirits when I boarded that fateful flight back in Buenos Aires. I had no intentions of smashing on with this blog, and for a fair ol’ stretch of two months, more or less, I ceased to do so. Yet backed surprisingly by a dedicated audience now stretching around the globe, and prospected with renewed hibernational isolation - having little else to do but gnaw down upon kilos of sticky dates late at night in a scungy Moroccan brothel, I settled upon this inevitable moment & rewound the clock. Ready to roll!! So now if you’d excuse me, lets swoop back through that time travelling haze we’re all so unfamiliar with, to recreate the foreword for how this epiphanatical mess of mine initially came about!!

'La Familia Cathedral'

Everyone had pre-warned me of my disregard to the obvious. “Why the heck are you travelling to Europe in the thick of winter?!!” I thought I knew better than everyone after all- a trail blazing, ‘world educated’ hero. “Dudes…I’m checking into Spain!! Beach bound buddy!!” Well fuck me…I sure wasn’t inRio no more!! I knew something was up the moment I crash landed on the tarmac. The skies were grim, the airstrip was soaked. Add that to a ‘first world’reverse serving hangover and I found myself pleading for forgiveness – or was it mercy?? The rail system beneath Madrid airport was the most advanced I had ever seen!! I could sip my agua straight from a sink, and flush my paper down a waste pipe without my chow rushing back up to meet me. And it was freeeeezing!! I’d spaced out. There I was, fresh in the February frosts, decked out in nothing spare a self-tattered beater, some sun-stained short-shorts, and a flashy red pair of Havaianas. Shoot me!! Now what?? I thought this was a land in crisis?? Goes to show two hundred years of Australian ingenuity doesn’t account for much. I found my hostel, flirted with the Portuguese receptionist, and passed out like a day raving coke addict. Europe could wait…and I’d have to go shopping.

Leggings were my main priority the following day. A strapping black pair of skinnys should fix me up well and true!! I still couldn’t believe I was succumbing to this, but these pins of mine hadn’t been this cold since my last week-long Tassie mountain escapee. Geared up, I was good to go - and consequently got dragged along on some free walking tour of the city by a thigh slapping jolly German. Despite lacking any real optimism, the tour was actually quite insightful & very useful for future orientation. Our kiwiguide appeared pretty drained; but with the help of some sensitive sarcasm, transformed a bunch of old bricks & stone into a labyrinth of interest and productivity. Barcelona was indeed pretty rad, and I began to wholly accept my muddled decision. Further more, when I rambled back into the hostel – there was Grün!! Dwarfed by her monstrous bloat jacket, and glistening with an illustrious un-travel worn flair! It was great to see a familiar face. But then again, I could sense the impeding chaos. It must have been close to five months since we’d worked together back in Cusco- so as one can imagine, we had a lot of catching up to do. And what better a way to do so than over a few too many pints of Spanish cerveza!! Grün hadn’t drunk at all since she’d left South America!!...a thought that troubled my own poor kidney. This was going to get messy!! We munched a big bowl of characterised nachos & debilitated our way through an enormous block of kinder surprise choco; at least before being joined by our German pal from earlier. Now, as it turned out – this karate kid had some sharp moves under his belt…errrr?? Yep!! You know when someone shows a keen interest in a singular activity, and at first it comes across as kinda cool??...until at least you realise that this freak has nothing else to offer what so ever in life, and won’t drop the bottle until it consumes him. This simply becomes blatantly depressing. KarateKid was soon flipping, rolling & punching the air like Lu Kang in no time; it’s little wonder no one else in the hostel seemed in any way inclined to hang out with us. At first I thought Grün wanted in on part of the action (and this misconception I must add, goes and gets us all into some trouble a bit later on) – but for now let’s just settle on the fact that ‘I had friends.’ No matter how strange they might be…we’re all a tad off in some way or another surely…??

Grün & I tequilla slammin!!

So!! What was with all this!! Snow on the hills, surfers in the water?? I had to place the two together. My first ‘dip’ in the Mediterranean became nothing more than a salty hand rinse. But hang on…what was that?? Watch out women, here come the wide-wheeled warriors!! There is nothing more bad ass than a hipster on a low riding pushbike!! Bunny hopping madness. Truth. After the success of the previous days walking tour, we all felt obliged to expand upon our foot stomping horizons. And what does one get when you shake together architectural genius, acid tripping meltdowns and one whopper of a Catalonian hangover?? An injectiual overdose from Mr Gaudi himself!! What a marvel!! I can’t say I’ve ever been utterly gobsmacked by a sole piece of Christian invention before – that was at least until I first layed eyes upon the towering landmark of Barcelonaitself, ‘La Familia Cathedral.’ To the heavens it soars; draped in deep sombred decoration. What was even more impressive, was the fact that it was still supposedly decades away from final completion.

Wide-wheeled warriors!!

Poor old Gaudi himself got hit by a tram & transformed himself into some kind of spiritual, pitiless street bum; waking up dead in a public hospital. Was this somehow a gauge into my closing future?? A dollar don’t go so far – that is of course unless you limit yourself to two minute noodles & a cheap dosing of rum for pleasure. That night was a knockout!! I think I’d simply had enough of KarateKids trash-flashin’ bullshit & tried by all means possible to kill myself. Lesson learnt. Don’t pass out in the company of of others. If you do so, expect to be permanently pen plastered with all manner of spitting dicks & scribed patronisim. ‘Me gusta A$$!!’ Ciao chicos!!

Penis'ed in the streets of Barcelona

Let's see if we can keep this shit up 'ay??!!

Until next time...laterz...