After Madrid we took a train to Barcelona, which in my opinion is the best city in the world. Every time I’ve been there, I’ve had the most fun of my life. And to make this visit even better, the city graciously provided me with a host who knew the ins and outs. I met her by chance, but the chance would’ve never been there if I hadn’t given it to my self.
My two friends were being lame that night and wanted to stay in. No way I was staying in, so I went out into the streets on my own. I found myself at a bar where I found a couple girls who were headed on a party bus to some club near the beach. It sounded like fun so I jumped on with them. When I got there it wasn’t as fun as I had pictured and I quickly got bored. I was about to call it a night so I hailed a cab and told him to drop me off at the MACBA (a museum and one of the best skate spots in the world) not far from where we were staying. I was just around the corner on my way back home when I saw a bar with a bunch of dudes with skateboards coming out of it. I was kinda drunk and a little tired by this time, but it looked enticing so I said just one more drink and then go join your friends at home. It turned into many more drinks and I never came home that night.
The bar was crazy. From what I had heard, and could see, it was your skater’s skater bar. Dingy and dungy with music to match. Where some bars might have a ball game on the T.V., this one was showing skate videos from my past. And in the back was a bowl which was being skated. I kid you not, there was a little mini-pipe/bowl in the bar— a place that sold alcohol. This is why Europe is so great. Something so awesome, which here we would refer to as a liability, would never be allowed in the good ol’ States.
So I got my self a beer and took a seat in the corner where I sat by myself like a loser. But the thing is, I don’t mind being by myself or having a drink by myself. Amazing things happen when you are on no one’s time but your own. So at first my eyes were hooked on the T.V. playing an old DVS video. But then, sitting just below the T.V., was a blonde girl who was all by herself. I couldn’t take my eyes off her and I didn’t, I just tried to make it look like I was watching the video above her head.
And then I got this weird feeling that she might be looking at me too. And this is a weird feeling, one I’m not so accustomed to, but it was good, none the less. And when my suspicions were confirmed and I could tell that she was fake watching the T.V. over my head as well, I went on over.
Her name was Mari Linda. But she said it all sexy and pronounced Mari like Mah-dee, or how a dude from Boston would call to his friend Marty. Well her real name was actually just Mari, the Linda part was a joke I didn’t get until she explained to me later when I put her number in my phone.
I liked her from the very beginning. At first I thought she was from Spain. She kinda looked like it with that Latin vibe she had going. But something in her accent threw me off. So I asked her, and she was Latin alright, but from a whole world away. When she said she was from Brazil I almost chocked. Brazil! I said with love struck eyes (I was completely in love with the Brazilians at the time. I had been learning the language and was supposed to be there just a few months before, but that is a story for another time.) Anyways, I said, Brazil really?! I love Brazil. She gaucked at me like I was just another sucker with the same line as all the others. No, I said. I’m being serious and I gave her a little jig with my horribly accented Portuguese.
We shot the shit for a little while. The whole time I thought she was alone until a group of her friends walked up. Fuck, I sighed to myself because four of them were dudes and I figured one most definitely was her dude. It turned out that they were just all roommates and they were ready to go home. We all walked out together to Plaza Catatlunya- the one with the fountains- and from there they were going to take the bus home. Mari and I hung back from the group a little bit and I told her that I wasn’t ready to go home yet (even thought it was probably four already), so I asked her if she wanted to hang out with for a while longer.
So we did. We walked all the way down Las Ramblas, getting to know each other, and debating mostly about Beyonce, Lol. Never thought I would say that. At the very end of our walk we reached the beach and sitting on the sand, while the sun rose over the Mediterranean, Mari sung to me, with the voice of an angel, some of our favorite Portuguese songs.
“Seja eu, Seja eu
Deixa que eu seja eu
E aceita
O que seja seu
Então deita e aceita eu”
And the rest is history.
I was originally supposed to leave a few days after, but since I was completely open, I stayed another 10 days. Then I flew back a few weeks later to spend another week with her. The time we spent there together was like what Dickens said, “They were the best of times, they were the worst of times,” but the only difference is, they were mainly the best of times. We were inseparable and every day was a new adventure. One of the happiest memories I have was of the day when we set off from her house, she on her bike, I on my skateboard, riding down the boardwalk in our swimsuits before taking a dip in the ocean. And the day trip to Figures was also a highlight. We got to see Dali’s museum, which was the most spectacular museum, as a whole, that I have ever seen. And then there was the day in the park when our picnic was interrupted by torrential downpour. There wasn’t a taxi in sight or a bus on its way, so we found shelter under a little awning of the Barcelona Archeological Museum. When the security guard came out we thought he was going to kick us off the property for loitering, but instead he invited us in, gave us new shirts- making us “honorary members of their society,” and set up a little heater where we could stay until we got warm. Also one of the greatest nights is when we snuck into a private party at the top Tibidabo and mingled with the guests. It was a black tie event, and we clearly stuck out like sore thumbs, but no one seemed to mind, in fact they were kinda stoked, so we were invited to stay and eat hors d’oeuvre and drink champaign until another storm rained us out.
Here is a poem about Mari Lina and Barcelona, which I wrote while I was there.
In and out of the shade as we walk down Las Ramblas
I squint my eyes and the rays warm my legs
She asks me: Where do you want to go?
What do you want to see?
I was thinking the beach and maybe some tree
To the left, over the cobble stone road we find a spot
She rolled it tight, it burned so hot
It’s weird but for some reason Spain never called my name
But now it did and now I’m tame
She dances in my heart and through my soul
Chica bonita takes her toll
Elegantly she floats through the city as if it was her personal garden
She knows each and every flower which she points out to me
She doesn’t stop until we reach the sea
The sand sticks to her wet legs
And her tan line tells other kinds of secrets
And her eyes are the color of the water in which we play
And I could just about die
But please on any other day
