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the dry weekends

(3)
ephidryn Nov 24, 2002 09:41 Read 176 times, Dig?
it started raining last week, and it just keeps on, everyday foir about an hour. friday was lonely and long. i finished class and resolved not to do my homework until saturday. i went home, ate, and had a siesta. some people spoke well of the neighborhood Gracia so i hopped on the wrong metro to get there. after a while i finally found it. pretty street lights, lots of shops that sell useless crap and tons of people. i was excited. for a while. the blocks unfolded and the narrow cobblestone sidewalks repeated themselves. the same shops, lights, people, as if it was a bad, david bowie, dream sequence from laberynth. Calle Verdi was the street i was looking for, it was "the bees knees" and all that. found it, it was the same. :(

i took of west towards park guell and wandered around the residential areas, uphill wandering made me thirsty. i reached the park and decided against a midnight stroll in the unknown. as i walked around the park my brain chimed in "at least getting mugged would be something, other than nothing. something... exciting".

just then i passed what looked like a bar. they played fast hard punk music with a girls voice shrieking to the beat. i walked in and was greeting by six eyes of three people, two of which remined me of girls from the popular comic "Tank Girl". The guy looked like a skinnier younger version of Will. I asked for water, and they laughed. They were drinking beer with orange fanta in it.

the nice tank girl gave me a cup of tap water. i tried to ask what was wrong in valencia. and she told me that 4 protestors had been arrested and were in prison with no trial. its funny how when people know you donīt understand their language they dance around and add drama to thier words. i think iīll pretend i donīt know english if i return to the states. :)

i smoked my cigarette and drank my water. the two tanks girls got into soimething i couldnīt understand, but they kept speaking louder and saying the same things. i decided i should leave, so i extinguished my cigarette and said thanks on my way out. i wish i would have introduced myself. how rude.

i continued around the park and decided to head east back towards Gracia, and downhill. I wandered down some steep steps through a construction site and saw graffiti everywhere. "eat the rich" was my favorite. at the bottom of the stairs there were three people standiong by a door. the window next to them had a big cloth sign that had a euro symbol in a circle with a slash through it. they left as i walked down the last flight of stairs. i could hear people inside, it sounded like TGI Fridays on a friday night. the clank  of dishes, bursts of laughter, and the droning sound of conversations marrying on their way up and out the windows and ventilation shafts all the way out to my mostly functional ears.

i tried to read the posters that were pasted everywhere. anarchy symbols, libre somthing... i was excited. i had stumbled into a subculture that didnīt suck. people that did something for some reason. i think i was a little too excited, because i kept on walking. all i had was euros and couldnīt speak to them anyways. i am really good with excuses. back down, down the residential streets, dodging dog feculant and late motorists.

the pizza delivery minions ride red two stroke honda scoopyīs with no fairings, they keep their feet on the bar between the seat and the handlebars which is the frame. their helmets cocked halfway off their heads so that they can smoke  while they weave through traffic on the wet cobblestone streets at twice the speed of any car. pure beauty.

back underground and on to the metro i made my way home for a bite to eat before i went out again. i never made it. the digestive topor took me down and i slept.
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Comments from other users:

  • "did you ever get home?" - reb
  • "so you know spanish now? EH, MR FANCYPANTS?" - Schlagzeug
This story was written by ephidryn and has been brought you you by the letters D and L.
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