I’ve experienced every emotion imaginable this week, and have been in every different state of mind within a wide assortment of situations. I was extremely hopeful about the Celta program after last week and a few of the blogs I produced, but due to my inability to small talk retreated back into my cave. This weekend allowed me to reach back to a higher state available within that I had nodded the other direction towards.
Last week I went to a language exchange mixer, and three of the four people I made contact with didn’t return my texts. Oddly enough, the one I didn’t contact ended up contacting me Friday to invite me to a disco celebrating Carnaval. The very first interaction perfectly depicted just how deep into the storm I had sunk. Her friend wearing an eskimo costume, asked me for my I.D at the door, and of course, I started reaching into my wallet for it. They both teased me and asked me if he looked like a doorman. I laughed at own gullibility and we walked in awoken by the abominable snowman.
I chatted with her friends who told me that they volunteer turning abandoned buildings into places like this. They don’t make money, but are glad when people can come together in a dilapidated building and revitalize it to its purest currency. The eskimo was friends with the DJ, and he absolutely lit the place on fire. The DJ reflected the wide variety of cultures in this disco by the music he selected. He played music from all over Europe; Spanish music I didn’t understand, but danced like an Egyptian to nonetheless, gas gas gas, Volare Cantare, a few Turkish songs that the Turkish group actually didn’t like, and he inevitably made this epic remix of Drop It Like Its Hot. He catered to all the energetic cuisine on this grill. Pharaoh was Hungary for some Turkey with Greece.
One of the Turkish girls produced music and was knowledgeable about all the different subgenres of EDM. She was one of the few people I ‘ve met in Barcelona that actually was into EDM like I am, so was nice to actually vibe on music with someone ❤ My group and hers merged into a super-group and we danced and chatted for the next several hours. Unfortunately only took photos at the beginning of the night because I was too busy in-joy the rest of the night. Photos wouldn’t do her beauty justice anyways.
In terms of girls, I’ve never felt this passive before. I truly enjoy dancing and even with my knee did the most to be one raving Pharaoh. I couldn’t shuffle or cut shapes like I normally do, but side to side with some comedic hand gestures sufficed. There was a Spanish circle with mainly girls adjacent to our circle, and the one girl I thought was the most beautiful eventually changed her location in the whirlpool to become potentially abducted into ours. I was in-joy with my group, but couldn’t help appreciating her beautiful form afar. I also didn’t want to ditch my friend to go talk to a girl, but at the same time in discos we’re all free to do what we want.
I used to have the attitude of never stop approaching, but recently have stopped trying. I’m not sure why I lost my curiosity and eagerness to approach and talk to random girls, and if thats even a bad thing, but at the same time I can’t help but wondering what if? Right? What if I talked to her and we vibed about music and movies? What if she was looking for some chill American to help her with her English as much as I want a chill Spanish girl to help me with my Spanish? Guess I’ll never find out.
My group and I went up to the front of the stage and stayed for a couple of hours. We parked our cars and watched one rave DJ play all sorts of foreign films. No subtitles were necessary. He closed the night with Volare Cantare and stole our ability to remain externally silent. Our inner stillness was reflected in the form of a courageous empty orchestra as we all sang in mesmerizing synchronicity.
The night continued, but I was tired so ended up leaving early. In Barcelona 3 A.M is early lol. It was a really awesome night, and couldn’t be more thankful to my friend Zoe for sending me the invite. Would’ve just sulked at home if she hadn’t.
The next day I went out on a long walk to my shisha lounge I’m in love with. Reem Al bawadi, my new Paymons. On the way I had a couple magical slices of pizza. My diet has certainly lessened while in Barcelona, because I’ve been a bit of a more-on, but the lesson I’ve learned is that cuando en Barcelona quizas ‘mas’ que seria mejor!? Hmm.. I wonder? What do I know anyways. Pharaoh asked without a question mark.
I stumbled upon the rambla and decided to walk it. I found a massive market I didn’t even notice the first time I went there, and went in for a look. Sadly didn’t take a picture of the massive chocolate stand I ended up indulging in, and only took a couple of photos. Each piece of chocolate was soooooo good. There was a massive sculpture of
breasts I chomped into as well as many dulce blancos. Some had nuts, others were purely nutted. What a gorgeous pastel of chocolates.
I finally arrived at my destination, Baram al Wadi. I smoked some shisha and drank a glass of wine. It was nice, but wanted to pace myself because I had planned to go to another meet-up group language exchange later that night. I relaxed and moved on.
I went to Gloria Cafe, the bar of la hermosa camerera de mis revos. It was an empty street on the way there. I walked by people on vacation with their lovers or friends, with only my-self as company, but the air had changed. I was enjoying my day off from teaching. Vacíos calles, La luna
Mic change… here ya go Pharaoh, all you
Marissa* and her co-worker, Carrie* happily greeted him and they chatted a bit in Spanish. Its a nice environment to practice and can happily chill at the bar with ordering the bare minimum because they are so dulce. They bare with his extremely basic Spanish, and he would like to think they do so because they real-eyes their English is just as basic. They don’t know enough English to communicate, so its a great opportunity a apprender nuevas palabras y les ensena ingles poco a poco.
After entertaining one-another they went back to work, so Pharaoh chatted with the UKer currently residing in Indonesia beside him. He was attending a conference on telecommunications and communicated to Pharaoh that he had lived in southeast Asia for the previous 5 years; Jakarta, Ho Chi Minh, and New Zealand. They talked about how Pharaoh thought Barcelona was somewhat superficial, but was Pharaoh projecting the superficiality he grew to know so well in Vegas? Was his epiphany that the city of the Angels, ‘the fakest city in the US,’ was far more genuine and real than any other city he had lived in? Were the single-serving transient tourists the real deal in Barcelona? Pharaoh would have to see that out on his own. His new friend told him that Vietnam is rapidly growing and a great place to teach if interested in networking and finding new streams of currency. Vietnam had always been an option of residence for Pharaoh, but he never really considered it. Who knows where the Pharaoh will end up.
There was a shift change and Pharaoh’s heart broke. He thought that Marissa didn’t bother saying good-bye, but the new friend he made assured him that that wouldn’t be it. “Relax, isn’t not over yet”, said his new friend. His friend left, and shortly after Carrie came out in new clothes to sit by herself and have a beer. Pharaoh joined her and they continued chatting in limited Spanish about his upcoming trip to Budapest to see Jason Mraz and his plans afterwards. He still doesn’t have a plan or a job, but is hoping with his Celta qualification that he can remain in Barcelona at least through the summer. We shall see. Inshallah.
Marisa joined and after some pronunciation lessons differentiating long and short ‘i’
and ‘a’ sounds since Spaniards have a difficulty with this, agreed that they would try a different shisha lounge. He paid the tab and they exited the bar.
Marisa, instead, took them to a hashish cafe and treated him to some beers and hashish. It was his first time smoking in a while, and Marisa became all giggly. He wanted to nestle close to her and put his arm around her, but didn’t feel comfortable doing so in front of her friends since this was their first time hanging out. His knee also started hurting horribly, so needed to switch positions around the table and was separated from her by a barrier of coats– brands unknown.
He taught them the card-game Bullshit and they played. Pharaoh became quiet because of the language barrier, likely as well as the hashish– further separated from her. He sometimes would forget that ocho came after siete, not nueve, and received piercing glares from her friends. Marissa giggled all the same and was in-joy with the Pharaoh. They laughed, played their cards as well as with their gazes. Some seducing, some innocent, he felt a definite vibration in the air. He didn’t know it was there, and chose to focus on the boredom her friends showed. Marissa continued laughing, though, and Pharaoh kept trying to communicate in Spanish. He has faith that his efforts weren’t in vain and that she had a nice night with him.
They exited the cafe and told him they were too poor for any of the restaurants nearby. He offered to buy a bunch of tapas since he felt guilty not being more persistent in offering Marissa money for her treats, but she promised that she would let him the next time. He incorrectly kissed them on opposite sides of the cheeks before saying goodbyes. From what he’s seen since, only the air is kissed; not the skin.
Pharaoh went onwards without bothering to take another picture the rest of the night. He went in between alley ways, came to a courtyard of restaurants, but felt like an alien in all the noise. He wanted a nice, quiet place to smoke more shisha. The arabic music, his friends that work there, and the delicious kafta combination with hummus, taboush, kibbeh, and a salad awaited. He had had it before this week, but wasn’t in the mood for tapas, or any other Spanish cuisine. He had his fair share with his dulce camarera, su nueva amiga.
He pre-gamed, and then walked right back down Via Laetana. He didn’t really vibe that well in this language exchange similarly to the last one he went to. He felt it was extremely inorganic and the density of masses prevented a comfortable space. The forest grew dark again inside, but on the outside Pharaoh mingled with all his might. He saw a Korean girl from last week and they chatted. She said her favorite type of music was EDM, but somehow didn’t even know a single DJ she liked. Pharaoh was so thrilled to hear her response be EDM, but so appalled to know she didn’t know any DJs she listened. He mentioned a few deep house, dub-step, and trance DJs, but he was speaking Greek to her.
He met a group of two English, one Spanish, and one German. While discussing work and travel, the German model told him that Budapest was one of the most incredible cities in Europe. Ruin bars were old dilapidated buildings which contained cars, crazy inverted ceilings, gardens, and anything else he attempted to imagine. She did her best to describe the bar and certainly set his bar up high. She went inside the masses, and Pharaoh decided to remain on the outskirts.
While talking to one of her mates, he mentioned buying property within Barcelona. He made some reference to how pop wasn’t Coldplay and immediately Pharaoh was enthralled. Someone who actually loves Coldplay– maybe? He joked back that it certainly wasn’t A Rush Of Blood to The Head or Parachutes. It was apparently all greek to the band-wagoner. His poker face remained, and Pharaoh bounced like a football elsewhere. A few more pointless conversations later was all he could bare for one night.
He inevitably decided that he had had enough fun for one night and took a cab home. He iced his knee and was put in a trance by Denis Kenzo, his new obsession lately. What a beautiful creature– that DJ.