Barcelona
02 JUL - 03 JUL
Happy Birthday to me!!!
I'm sitting out on the balcony of the fourth floor apartment that we're renting in Barri Gotic, the Old Quarter (Gothic Quarter) of Barcelona. It's been the fourth bluebird day we've experienced here, absolutely spectacular weather lending itself to an even more spectacular backdrop that makes up the heart of Barcelona. It's getting onto about 9:30pm and the sun is just deciding to drop behind the mountains in the west and go hiding into for a few hours. It's at about this time that life on the street (Carrer Ample) below me really kicks in and it keeps going, day in, day out until somewhere between 3-4am. People making there way back from the beach down at La Barcelonetta make there ways into the small bars tucked into every conceivable space on the street and then hey, they're never seen again, drifting away on a cloud of mojito's, caparainha's, sangria and San Miguel.
The view from our apartment on Carrer Ample - Barri Gotic - Barcelona
View from the top floor of the apartment
Morning in Barelona - Carrer Ample - Barri Gotic
The room that I'm in has beautiful large wooden French doors that open out onto the balcony of this pre 1900 building. I've found myself most mornings taking the few steps from my bed to the balcony, setting up camp sitting and having a few cups of coffee with breakfast and watching the world roll on by. Nowhere to be, no deadlines to meet, no assignments, no self inflicted panic regarding the copious amounts of reading that I should have completed prior to an impending law exam. It's a strange thing to be obligation free and leave most of the decisions of your day to chance and whim. It's more than just a little foreign to me, but hey, what's 'foreign' other than a feeling that hasn't been made familiar with the passing of time. Am looking forward to seeing whether or not my character and attitude change 10 months removed from this point, it'll be an interesting comparison.
I arrived here on the 1st of July from Madrid and met the parents at Barcelona airport a little later that afternoon. The next day was my 35th birthday, and I have to say, not the way that I had ever anticipated to be celebrating it. When you're younger you have thoughts, impressions, idealised views of what your life should be and what your expectations are. I'm so far removed from where and what I thought I'd be doing at this time in my life.Sometimes I feel like I'm playing catch up and at other times I count my blessings that the life I thought I'd have right now is some alternate reality that exists for another form of me...I'm good with that...
My birthday was the kind of perfect day that you can only wish for and one which doesn't arrive frequently enough. After spending a few hours on our fourth floor balcony soaking in the atmosphere, the parents and I walked down by the Marina Port Vell by Barcelonetta to one of the main beaches in town, Playa San Sebastia. The area of Barceloneta is the former sea faring district of Barcelona and was built in 1753 on reclaimed land from the sea. Apparently the neighbourhood was constructed according to specific criteria, with uniform and ordered streets and houses that at the time were mainly occupied by fishermen and sailors. The Paseo Maritimo at the top end of Barcelonetta, acting as an adjunct to the Meditteranean, is a long seafront promenade that connects the suburb with the Olympic Port to the north - this area of course being designed and built for the hosting of the 1992 Summer games in the city (7 gold, 9 silver 11 bronze), just in case anyone was interested in our medal tally. We spent a few hours at a bar on one of the beaches, taking in some lunch and downing a litre or two of sangria, looking out over the Meditteranean and judging both the beautiful and not so beautiful bodies that dared to be baring their skin to the sun on this day. Hey, if you're going to flaunt it then expect to pay the price of being judged by passers by, that's got to be the deal, right?
Mum and Dad, Port Vell - Barcelona
Making our way back for some afternoon relaxation we got primed to watch a couple of the World Cup quarter finals that were set to be resolved on this day. Kick-off for the Holland v. Brazil game was at 4pm, Dad and I ducked down into the small tapas bar right next door to our building. About 50mtrs up the street there was already significant overflow coming from the Brazillian bar/restaurant, and a hell of a racket with the yellow army beating out their African rhythms in much the same was as the team is know for playing its football, with passion, Latino fury and dedication to the cause. Early on in the piece Brazil were looking like a team that would be easily walking through this game and also the next couple, making plans already to buy a carry case to take the cup home for the sixth time. I have to say, that type of smugness is not something that sits comfortably with me, and I assume everyone that was in the bar with me felt the same way as they were riding every Dutch challenge and cheering every positive move. Moving into the second half it still looked as though the Dutch had more than just their own personal Everest to climb, they also a need a little touch of Orange infused luck....and it came....from nowhere a Sneijder cross into the box snuck past the keeper and into the back of the net, now it was 1-1 with 28 mins to play!
Brazilians getting all excited to fail
Brazilian confidence tempered and Holland sniffing a chance, Dad commented to me that it was now danger time for Brazil and he could quite easily see Holland going on to win this one. I really don't know where or how he makes these assessments but I hate the fact that his strike rate when it comes to assessing a football match is in the 90% range, really, it's quite extraoridinary. With that said, it was only about 15 mins later than another Sneijder header from a flicked on corner put Brazil down 2-1 and chasing the game for the last quater of an hour. If it's one thing that I do know, like most South American teams, coming from behind is not their forte. This is the point where they crumble and where discipline usually falls apart....and so, with a red card, 10 men and 15 futile minutes Brazil were out of the 2010 World Cup.........OH YEAH,
goodnight you bunch of ball juggling joga bonito millionaires...suddenly the drums from down the street fell silent also, nothing but their caparainha's to drown their samba sorrows in.
Later on that evening Uruguay took on Ghana in the second quarter final, and looking like the true Uruguayan that I do (I have been told more than several times in my life that I look Uruguayan....of all countries right?), I felt compelled to support my brothers in their time of need. In a fairly dour contest with limited chances created by both sides, the game was 1-1 going into extra time. Then in the 29th minute of extra time all hell broke loose! Ghana had a free kick from just outside the box, a header from a Ghanayan player was stopped on the line, the rebound falling back into the path of the same player who then smashed the ball back at the Uruguayan goal. In flight the ball looked to be going in for all money until a Uruguayan defender raised his arm and stopped the ball from crossing the line. A form of cheating, yes....but a last ditch chance to prevent a goal that would have sunk them and in turn providing the Uruguayans with a final opportunity for them to get something out of the penalty. With A.Gyan from Ghana stepping up to take the penalty,in what virtually would have been the last kick of the game and would have put an African team into the last four of the World Cup for the first time in its history, the kick smacked the bar and flew skyward into the South African evening.
A golden lifeline to Uruguay had just been provided and you couldn't help but feel at this point that it was their destiny to get by Ghana in the ensuing penalty shootout, which ofcourse they did (4-2). Uruguay had essentially done everything they could have to lose the game and had won, Ghana had done all they could have to have won and unfortunately were going home to watch the semi's on their TV's.
....and that my friends was that. About midnight we wondered back upstairs to the apartment, I crashed out on day oneof the start of my 36th year on this earth. As I said earlier, not the way that I ever imagined that I'd be spending it, but here I am, and I'm claiming it!!!!
