Back to Barcelona...
4th of May, 2004

Rather poetic- moving back to BCN for the 2nd time on the 4th day of May, 2004- my birthday is the 24th of May, and I'll be 28 (2*4=8)...or maybe I've just been spending too much time with math geeks.

Packing was everything that you hope it won't be.

After a week in Germany (went to Frankfurt to see Mark's brother Simon from the Dec. 2002 blogs, and Jeannine from the August 2002 blogs), Mark and I came back on Tuesday night.
Wednesday we shopped for crystals and finished off the night in a bookstore.
Thursday we took shelter from the rain in a guitar shop. The next thing I knew, Mark was purchasing a guitar, case, strings, tuner and pick. We finished in Borders, where I spent an hour and a half sorting through every guitar book possible and finally decided on one teaching book and one book of modern songs, to which he wanted to add the complete Bob Dylan anthology of 300 songs- I countered with "Bob Dylan Made Easy". Only 12 songs in theat one, but ones within reach of a beginner.
Friday was a leisurely morning followed by the train to Bournmouth to see Hui, a lovely Chinese student whom we knew through a mutual friend. Hui was SOOOoo excited to have us there..and so upset when we told her that we were only there for one night. To stay the tears, we SWORE to stay until Sunday. Relieved, she spent the next 3 hours cooking with her flatmate Angela and plying us with the most delicious food. They made so much that it filled the whole table and there was only enough room for all of us to have small bowls.

I noticed that Hui and Angela's bowls had avery little, while Mark's and my bowls had so much...I felt this distinction was important given that I'm small an don't normally eat very much. Even a colossal effort on my part doesn't make a dent in what any ethnic "Eat!!" person thinks I should. Hui, if you read this- I ate more Friday night than I normally eat in two days- it was SOOO delicious, I just couldn't eat anymore. :-)

Saturday, Mark, Hui and myself went to the beach to walk around. It was a traditional boardwalk! How delightful! Despite having given up meat, when Mark suggested a hotdog, I wanted one too- and ate TWO. Hui didn't understand. I explained the mysterious joy of the joyless mystery meat...eating a hotdog is eating a happy childhood memory. Every few years I suffer one or two because I think that I'll like it. I never do, and I ALWAYS have a stomachache afterwards.

Hui was still mystified- why would you eat bad food? Especially if it's meat and you are a vegetarian? I told her about Americans and diners:
A diner is a place that traditionally has bad service, grumpy waitresses, bad coffee, greasy food, is a little dirty and probably smells a little like an old ashtray....and we LOVE them. We don't know why. It is a mystery...like the hot dog.

The hot dogs unfortunately rendered me incapable of eating anything else that day. Again, Hui, I'm so sorry- your food tastes SOO much better than a hotdog! I drank lots of very good green tea while everyone else finished off the leftovers from our feast.

-you may have noticed that despite my leaving on the following Tuesday and we are now up to Sunday, there's still no reference in this packing story to packing..

Sunday, we got to London around 2.30pm, dropped off our things in Mark's flat, and then got to his parents at aorund 5pm. I had to get some things, and my massage chair. We left there around 9pm laden with my chair and 30 kilos of possibly-to-take stuff.

Back at home, we were tired and couldn't be bothered to start.

Monday, up at 9am, we have lunch at James and Jo's at 1:30 (which means leaving at 12:45). I began...it was horrible. So much stuff. So many time constraints and SUCH A MESS!! Mark kept whimpering about the state of his poor room. I kept whimpering about the job of packing. We put on the kettle...then it was time to go. Fabulous time, LOTS of wine. We averaged a bottle apiece. At 6:30pm, I rushed off to meet David. Mark stayed behind and texted me something about playing on the swings and Chinese food (presumably, they continued drinking after I left).

A moonrise, a walk, a bottle of wine and a song later I headed home in time for 11:30pm.

I packed and sorted until 5am, with Mark valiantly keeping me company (he only fell asleep once). At exactly 5am, we made our way to the kitchen, famished. Throwing convention to the wind, we took breakfast and then bed.

Nine a.m. up and at 'em, bath then packing. Tracey came round and kept us company. I finished packing, and we had a leisurely lunch of toast with vege's and cheese.

Forty five minutes before leaving, I realised that the excess baggage fee would be equal to a roundrip ticket for a friend to Barcelona!!! oy.

I hastily repacked and set off.

The massage chair counts as sporting equipment and was twice as heavy as it ought to be, and my bag owas 3-5 kilos over, fortunately, we had chosen a young and sympathetic looking check-in guy and he didn't fuss (whewww!!!)

Said goodbye to Mark. Next hurdle: my carry on bag weighed about 3 times the 5 kg limit. Going through security the security guard had a rather confrontary nature and a grip on my bag. I was lectured about the weight limit. I apologised, I really didn't check as it was mostly electronics and I didn't really know what kilos mean... He explained (wrongly- apparently he REALLY had no idea what a kilo is) that 5kg is about 15 pounds...he still had a two fisted grip on my bag. I looked very sorry and asked, "well, what can we do?" I think he was raring for a fight, but since I wasn't offering, he spit out, "Next time, you check it in out there!" I said, "Ok." rather sheepishly and slowly worked my bag away from him. He was still lecturing as I walked away thinking "Yes!!! Made it through!!"

When I got on the plane, the baggage carriers tried to take my guitar from me to put under the plane. I was nice, but firm- my guitar is non-negotiable. They said that if I wanted to take it on, I'd have to talk to a guy over there, roughly indicating a group of handlers on the other side of the plane. I moved out of the line of people getting on the plane and chatted with one of the handlers while another ran to the boss. After a couple of minutes, I got a thumbs up. On the plane, things safely stowed, window seat...which brings me to this moment, eating a dreadful cheese (and what I can only assume is Chutney) sandwich.

Tonight Barcelona, tomorrow the beginning of a whole new phase of life.