Flashback to December 15th

December 15th, 2008

I am going to write more often, as I can feel my intentionality begin to slip when I get too distracted by mundane things, like streaming Grey’s Anatomy in Belgrade. I have only been in Barcelona a few hours, but am already quite taken by it, energized, inspired… Partly it’s the great public transportation. Also I am realizing how isolating it actually was to have spent the last two months in a country whose language I didn’t speak or even understand at all, although words keep popping out of my mouth as I’m speaking Spanish in this weird reversal of me being the Spanish-speaking freak in Serbia, ha. But it’s like this marvelous overload of understanding, where suddenly all the signs have meaning for me again so it’s this constant exciting auditory overload of overheard conversations and that constant visual onslaught of words, like the blur of the metro. In Belgrade and Budapest just “surviving” was an accomplishment, so I forgot to miss the immersment of language. Partly also, I am feeling so stimulated and grateful for the fine company.

Isabel and Fernando (I couch-surfed with them) are so kind, so open minded, so intelligent and wise. I feel honored to be welcomed into their home, and it’s also like getting a bit of Dawn as well, as I know she was here… Literally conversing with these marvelous people and sleeping in this same bed. So much of my year is completely solitary, something to share with people who I then leave behind, and with no-one to share “remember whens” with. Also, honestly, it’s a bit of a head trip to know that Andrew was here a year ago this time. We are so good at just missing one another, and I can’t help but wonder, ‘did he run to catch this metro too?’ ‘was he also moved by this?’ ‘did he love this about Barcelona too?’ And knowing both of us, and that the answers are probably yes, is strange.

I can’t tell if it feels heart-rendingly lonely or comforting; am I somehow sharing in their experiences/story or have I missed it entirely and so am even more alone? Maybe it can be both strange and comforting to know that people I love have also gotten acquainted and maybe fallen for this city, that they have walked these same streets. I picture our “ghost” selves, I don’t mean dead, just passed, brushing through each other- it’s this visual image I can’t quite convey but has something in common with the idea Kels and I have talked about so much of those cities where your layers of memory and previous selves crowd the corners, parks, cafes, fire-escapes, and roofs: familiar streets with this shimmering golden layer of the past.