I Need More Time In Barcelona

May 8 — I’m super tired this morning. I ran yesterday so today is only a yoga day, thank goodness. This is one of those days where I’m really looking forward to siesta.

Tonight there is supposed to be a TedX event here in town. I’m super excited because this would be my first. There is a lot of discussion in the Slack channel about the validity of the event. I’ve already received one weird email from it. I’m going anyways because the worst thing that could happen is that it’s not happening.

On the way over I noticed more streets and areas I hadn’t yet. For a brief moment I was sad. I’ve only now realized there is no way I’m going to experience all this city has to offer. A month is not enough time when you’re working.

Coming over I also saw a woman mopping the street in front of a building and it seemed so strange yet completely appropriate here. I saw a city worker taking a sticker off a street light. It seems I’ve gone from daily Careem fails to daily Barcelona cleaning wins. I’m absolutely okay with this! I love Barcelona!

There was no TedX event after all. The date was wrong. I didn’t mind and instead walked around the area. I’ve ran the perimeter but inside it’s like an old fortress. Even with the dark colors I find it both welcoming and comforting. I admire balconies no matter how small and take what seems to be the same picture over and over again.

When I was young my mother would go window shopping and I never understood it. What was the point of simply looking through the windows? Now I completely get it. Having the free time to be able to do such things is nice. It’s rare when you have small children. It’s like living in a book and acting out the words on the page. Strolling, lingering, admiring, imagining are all actionable words. That is window shopping. For me it’s more like balcony shopping.

I walked around with my head high trying to notice every detail, wondering who actually uses their balcony and who does not. Some were filled with flowers and others hung flags and clothes. There were some people sitting and one man standing talking on his phone. I’m guessing it was a business call based on his outfit and posture. Then I noticed something else beautiful. A man.

He is not my type. Like a model he was, with tan skin and blonde hair. I’m sure he had blue eyes I couldn’t look him in the eye. He was too pretty. It was like seeing a page ripped from a magazine come to life. A boatneck, navy and white horizontal striped sweater, white linen pants with a drawstring, suede navy deck shoes, a cognac leather messenger bag and silver watch that you couldn’t ignore.

As he walked past me I put my head down. Suddenly I become aware of every flaw I had. Every hair of out place. How imperfect my outfit was compared to his. I couldn’t have spoken if he asked me a question or even said something as simple as “hi”. Then he was gone. Out of sight. Probably on the way to pose nude for some artist.

Not much time had past before I saw him again. Turns out he was just getting food. Trying to guess what was in the bag I imagined it was a chicken breast, vegetables, no carbs, and mineral water. That’s the American way. It’s doubtful he’s American. Maybe it’s a nice sandwich, dessert, and bottle of wine.

I skillfully watch him without being noticed as he fades down the street until he’s completely gone when he turns the corner. It would be obvious to think I’m not the only person staring at him. What I wonder is what other people see when they look at him.

My end of day gratitude:

  1. The ability to take a siesta.
  2. The beauty of Barcelona.
  3. The cleanliness of Barcelona.

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