barcelona

since my first visit with franz and ingrida who had enticed me and spirited me away from that first encounter with the paradise island of port lligat, barcelona is full of bitter-sweet memories. it was the place of one of my lowest lows in the long years of travelling, still hung-up over the love taken away by that wild rainbow from lithuania. hanging out with a motley crew of misfits and winos and travellers and musicians and street performers and junkies and down-and-out bums in plaça real (or plaça surreal as i used to call it), i could've continued in that vicious spiral of cheap sangria and hashish joints into much murkier and inescapable black holes. i had found myself being brought round from my drunk and stoned stupor in the plaça by the priest from the caritas comedor (soup kitchen). fortunately, he had recognized me from the comedor, where all us penniless bums went to eat each day. but these are the darker chapters of my story, for another time too. now i am at the flat where i used to visit magnus - who is now in oz on his round-the-world odyssey - being hosted by his ex-flatmates pia and josé and ximé, the chilean 'mafia' in barna. living with them now are conni and fabio, also from chile, and also anna-lisa and puntos. all have made me very welcome here, it's been a hectic week for the chilean extended circle of friends with art inaugurations and parties... and in between times i check out my usual places for busking, and recycling vegetables from the boqueria market.