La Ciudad Vieja 

I felt a bad case of something similar to “Senioritis” today.  I woke up at the usual 7:30 AM, remembered that I had already passed me test, then rolled over and went back to sleep.  I missed first period.  I tried to act casual as I half-sprinted my way to school, hoping that I wouldn’t be so late as to miss part of second period.  I reached the café next to my school when Caroline, Clara, and a new Swedish woman who’s name I forget, walked out to greet me. “How was playing hooky?” Caroline joked, as we walked up the staircase of the school and I pretended like I’d simply been with them on break, on time like everyone else.  Class was great, my appreciation for it and my teachers growing as I realized I only had one more day there.  I said my goodbyes to Amir and Farva, since tomorrow they will be absent in order to pick up Amir’s parents from the airport.  After school, Mommy and I watched Wimbledon as Serena Williams beat some girl in a close match (one of the best I’ve ever seen her play).  She will play her sister, Venus, in the finals – I’m so excited!

 

So after that, Mom and I attempted to go souvenir shopping for friends and family, but that hardly worked out on account of us getting lost again, but this time in a slightly scarier part of town.  However, the scarier part of Barcelona is the equal to nicer parts of most cities, and I kind of liked its bohemian style, graffiti art, and doggy/kitty doors carved out of store windows.  But closing in upon a slightly more eerie street, we encountered what I would call the strangest store (if one could call it a store) that I have ever seen:  its sign read “Atelier de la Muerte Negra” – Catalán for “The Factory of the Black Death”.  In the window there was another sign that also read in Catalán, “Hi, we are not in the public face.  We do not sell.  We do not buy.  We do not want anything and we do not want to be bothered. We are not a bar. [More Catalán I couldn’t understand]  We wish you a good day.  Kindly, The Death.”  I might be wrong, but I think that’s irony. Apparently one was not meant to see into the workshop, due to the iron-barred fence and the red curtain drawn in the window with nothing on display but a Skeleton and with a sign that said “KEEP OUT”.  Behind the curtain, barely seen and sitting the dark, was a more realistic skeleton peeking through the crack.  What creep ran this freak show, I wondered.  I was taking pictures of the cow skull nailed to the top of the store front, right next to the Jesus crucifix, when out of the corner of my eye I spotted a jerk of motion in the window; two security cameras were pointed at me with red blinking lights going off – time to split!

 

We made it out alive before the Zombie Police came after us. We were exhausted from our efforts of navigation, so we stopped at a market to purchase some peaches and people-watched on the street as we savored them.  We stopped in an old-looking Catholic church, not fully realizing tat it was a church when we walked in (we came in through a mysterious side door), and just sat and reflected in the pews for a while, admiring it’s simple beauty.  On Sunday, we will return.  Afterwards, after walking about the city for two hours, we realized that we had landed ourselves right on the corner of our street, two minutes away from our apartment; we had walked in a giant circle…

 

When the time came for dinner, we decided that we would give one Thai restaurant one last chance before we gave up on it for the remainder of the trip.  You see, we really miss spicy food, and we have been trying to get Thai food since the first week of our arrival, but we can never seem to get there when it’s open.  Like every restaurant in BCN (the locals’ own nickname for their city), this one has very strange hours.  It opens at 8 AM every day and closes at 7 PM.  Only on Thursdays and Fridays do they stay open for dinner, but only after closing at 7 for an hour, and reopening at 8!  So we get there 45 minutes early, excited that it was to open soon, and despite our aching feet, we walk around the block until it opens.  It’s 8 o’clock and its metal gate is still down.  Thirty minutes pass before it opens (we were obviously desperate for Thai food) and at last, we are able to sit down and enjoy Pad Thai, Fried Rice, and the most sinful chocolate lava cake I have ever laid eyes (and taste buds) on.  How satisfying!  Our stomachs full, we headed back home, where we met a sweet American couple standing in the front entrance, wondering how to get to Plaça Revolución, located somewhere within our own neighborhood.  One would think that, being here a month, we would know where that is.  Nope.  We are some directionally challenged Americans, my mom and I, but we gave it our genuine efforts and rushed upstairs to research the plaza’s location online to help out our fellow Americans.

 

As for now, I must head off to bed.  Tomorrow is my last day of school, and I don’t want to miss half of it for sleeping in!