Carnivale

I arrived back in Barcelona in time to start preparing for Carnivale. Which is not as big as it is in other European cities because they have only recently been allowed to celebrate it, (that dictator was such a buzz kill.) I found the costume store, but had trouble because they really only sold the accessories, and not the full pre-packaged outfits you find in the states. And since I am traveling with only two suitcases, it's not like I could dip into my costume stash (which had been huge, I love a costume party). So I checked out the rentals. Now, those are kick butt, I want one of those! So I tried on a few dresses and finally settled on a black and white dress with huge sleeves and skirt trimmed with a huge amount of feathers. But the back was ripped. So now came the haggling. The store owner kept saying NO DISCOUNT it is Carnivale! The seamster was looking a big stressed when I told him what time I needed it at the next day. He finally took me in a corner away from the owner and offered me a $50 discount if I sewed it myself. Deal, now I just have to learn to sew. (by the way, the most beautiful man ever who really looked like the lead of any romantic movie about a woman alone in Europe was getting a prince costume, oh, I would have loved to see him in that and he helped me with a lot of the translations - sadly in all the commotion I lost him).

That night I went Marc's house to help him with the baking for the party. He was celebrating his 40th birthday and the menu included all of his favorite foods throughout his life. And one of those was chocolate chip cookies. Now this is going to sound blasphemous to some of you- they don't have chocolate chip cookie in Spain, or even chocolate chips. So we just pounded up a couple chocolate bars, used granulated brown sugar, oh and Marc has no American measuring cups, so we guessed at the amounts, then burned the first batch. They really were horrible and I am sure that no Spaniard was swung over to our American ways. Even the kids were not impressed.

So the next day I show up in this huge feathered dress. Not many costumes at the party (once again, this is Barcelona, not Venice). A few of the Brits showed up in costume, not as big as mine, but the Spanish just really had a hard time understanding this all. (You RENTED a costume?) Sigh. But the party was fun, I had the camera and cameras allow you to have really fun conversations with people who do not speak your language, and the dress was a huge conversation piece.

About 8 we went to go find the parade. Now, that was cool and lots more people in really cool costumes. They don't have people standing on the side walk watching like we do,rather everyone just jumps in the parade and starts dancing up the street till you finally hit the square and start having the party there. Then hit the bar. Those bartenders were a blast! Drunk as skunks and just determined to have a party. They finally closed the place with all of us in it. I told this 21 year kid at the bar that I liked his afro and he then followed me around the rest of the night, which was awkward.

Then we went back towards Marc's place. I was walking with Miquel (the portugese man from the other night) and Marshall (the American from an ealier post), who had been hitting on a woman all night long, grabbed us and told us that we need to stop and get another drink. So we did, and that turned into dinner (tapas). Then it was decided that we would go back to Silvaua's (the object of Marshall's desire) house in Gracia. Ok, that's cool, I just need to stop by Marc's apartment because he has my house keys. Marshall wouldn't let me, kept saying Marc was asleep by now and I couldn't disturb him. Silvaua offered to loan me clothes, so I finally agreed and we grabbed a cab.

We stayed up the rest of the night talking politics (basically me defending my country- "our founding fathers, that's such a cute phrase- but you elected Bush TWICE!) and finally fell asleep about 9am. I woke at noon and just wanted to go home. I promised Silvaua that I would bring her back her clothes that night, grabbed that huge dress with all the feathers and took a cab back to Marcs. Now while, not officially a walk of shame, it sure as hell felt like one.

I had never wanted to get to my house so badly and brush my teeth and shower (actually that's a lie - but not since my 20's). So I get to Marc's house and he's not home! So I call Silvaua and they try to reach Marc for me. They can't get a hold of him and that's when I remember him telling me that they're going to Nurias parents house for the day, and OMG, Nuria has Monday and Tuesday off. Oh, when will they be home? Wait, Nuria's cousin lives with them, he'll be home this evening. Ok, now just entertain yourself till this evening. So I wandered Barcelona with the filthiest mouth ever, no sunscreen, really ugly clothes, no phone, and the largest Carnivale dress the city had ever seen in my hands, leaving a trail of feathers the whole way. I went to the beach and had to do a huge duck as the guy that had tried to pick up on me the Saturday before at the beach rode passed me on his bike. Really? Him I run into? Why couldn't I have run into Luci, my landlord? Not surprisingly, he didn't recognize me at all, and now I must remember he's there every weekend and only go to the beach on weekdays.

About 9pm I ran into the kid with the afro, but still no Lucy. Finally about 10:30 one of Marcs neighbors lets me into his building. I had seen the light on in their apartment and knew somebody was home, just not answering the buzzer. Got to his apartment and Marc answered the door, with a THANK GOD! I thought you were dead! He'd been trying to find me all day.

Turns out they hadn't gone to see Nurias family and had been home all day. I had been ringing apartment 2,2 - not 2,1. 2,2 is empty and nobody lives there. We all had a big laugh. You know, if I had gotten into my apartment I would have just slept the day away and it was a beautiful day. I just wish I had enjoyed it with a toothbrush and sunscreen.