The Music Suitcase
Just another WordPress.com weblogArchive for Barcelona
Victory for Spain…and Catalonia
July 25, 2008 at 10:07 pm · Filed under Barcelona, Travel, Travel Writing and tagged: Barcelona, Catalonia, Espana, euro 2008, eurocup, Germany, music suitcase, Spain
It was incredible, I thought, to be in Spain for the Euro 2008 final between Spain and Germany. However, whether I´m actually in Spain, apparently, is debatable. After avidly following the other matches leading up to the final with Lucie and her French colocataires either in my flat or hers we felt we should take to the streets for the final – as England didn´t even qualify I had adopted temporary Spanish citizenship – as, it seems, had many of the inhabitants of Catalonia. Those Catalans you normally hear on the airplane being asked if their nationality is Spanish and who indignantly respond ´no, I´m not Spanish, I´m Catalan´ were now the ones conferring on Internet forums as to where they could watch the match on a big screen in Barcelona or buying fireworks in anticipation of ´their´ win. After Spain´s previous victories running up to the final it was impossible to sleep with the fans going crazy in the streets, singing ´PODEMOS´ (the TV channel, cuatro, who broadcasts the match, famous catch phrase) at the top of their voices as they passed every house or pipping their horn as they rounded street corners at dangerous speeds even for the average Spanish or Italian driver, whilst their Spanish flag was flying high – usually over the driver´s part of the windscreen. Lucie, Jules and I had spent the afternoon at the beach and you could feel the tension and excitment building up – everyone was talking about it! Because there were so many people heading into the city centre we decided against heading down to Maremagnum or Plaza España to watch the match. Instead we stayed at Lucie´s and celebrated Torres´ goal 30 minutes into the match with klaxons mixed in with cheers from all the other inhabitants in the block! Living in Joanic it was too far to head into las Ramblas to see the celebrations but it sounds like celebrations here would have made you think twice about whether you were somewhere that wasn´t part of Spain!
Bordeaux to Barcelona
July 25, 2008 at 10:00 pm · Filed under Barcelona, Bordeaux and tagged: Barcelona, Bordeaux, foreign, french, music suitcase, Travel, Travel Writing
My year abroad has now brought me to Barcelona. An unexpected occurence as I previously vowed I´d never live in the ´chilly´ Catalan speaking second capital of Spain during my year abroad – I wouldn´t learn any Spanish and I wouldn´t get a sun tan – a lose lose situation. After passing the telephone interview for an interesting internship (in which I said it would be no problem relocating the day after my language assistant contract finished in Bordeaux) I found myself jamming all my belongings (which easily overflowed from my one small suitcase and rucksack) into many a large plastic bag in preparation for the 11 hour train journey from Bordeaux to Barcelona. Perhaps one of the upsides of not thinking through my life was that at least I could bring everything I wanted with me – afterall I was going by train – the only limit was my bicep strength (unrivalled) and the number of people I could encourage to help me along the 3-train-changes way – the airline company and their 20kg would not have let me get half as far. At 11pm the day before I was due to leave Bordeaux Catherine came up to my ´bedroom´ to say her goodbye. There was little left to say between myself and my French host family by this point – having spent the previous 2 weeks with little conversation due to them being offended that I didn´t think it was particularly normal to pay 400 euros (a month´s rent) for my final two weeks. Catherine however did make it up the wobbly attic stairs of death to tell me that I didn´t look like I was by any means packed and that her husband, Jean would help me the following morning. His help the following morning turned out to be driving me 200m down the road, taking out my many bags from the car, putting them on the pavement and leaving me in the pouring rain wondering how I would heave them to the tram stop and wishing I´d walked to the tram stop next to our house instead of being driven further away from both that one and the following. Still this was more generous than I could ever have hoped – Jean originally was going to drive me the 5 minutes to the train station – which I politely was decling just as Catherine cut Jean off and loudly told him (in front of her lunch party of Jean´s extended family) that that absolutely wouldn´t be necessary – nor would it be necessary to take me to the tram stop – afterall my suitcase had wheels.
