Out Among Humans

Barcelona welcomes northern European students with open arms and sometimes a bit of envy.Calle Mallorca, Barcelona – The students from the north are tall and fair and have light-colored eyes. They’re friendly and make connections quickly.

Olga and I met on a morning break at a tiny place named Cafe Castroverde next to our school. Based on the easy way she carried herself, I assumed she was another happy fugitive using Spanish classes as an excuse to spend a few seasons on the Mediterranean.

So much for stereotypes.

The woman is a neurologist with a practice in Moscow. She explained that she combines acupuncture with conventional medicine.

Olga is in Spain thanks to the ultra-prestigious Médico Interno Residente program built around cutting-edge medical research. She’s juggling that with her intensive Spanish curriculum.

Healthcare is a right in Russia. Services at state-financed hospitals and out-patient clinics are available to everyone. Olga’s medical training was financed with public funding.

The care itself is of extremely high quality, she said, but time spent in waiting rooms can be frustrating. People often choose additional private care.

Dr. Kokina works 49 hours a week and is on call every four days. She lives in the suburbs of Moscow where she has commutes by car as long as two-hours each way. Facing lower pay and the stress of seeing more patients, she could be describing a physician’s fate in the big cities of our country.

Given the 2-hour time lag between Moscow and Barcelona, I asked if her son might be out on the school playground while she was ordering coffee.

She laughed. Her Nikita, she said, happens to be a university student.

The assassins boarded the trains at various Metro stations across Barcelona last Sunday.

Jardins de les 3 Xemeneies, Barcelona – You could see the tools they use to eliminate their rivals poking out of backpacks and foldable shopping carts.

They had picked up Green and Purple Line connections at Sants Estacio, España or Cataluña and climbed out into the daylight at the Parallel station. They made no effort to hide what they were about to do.

The Jardins de les 3 Xemeneies (Garden of 3 Idle Smoke Stacks) are down near the wharves where the old power plant provided electricity during of the Fascist era, close to the majestic ‘Aduana’ customs building. You can smell the Mediterranean and see the colossal Columbus pointing to the New World.

This park is where self-appointed street artists can use a gallon of fast-dry latex to snuff out the work of any another artist, painting a new creation over an old one. Life expectancy here is short. This is the Serengeti of graffiti art.

There are no rules — each artist decides which piece of art to paint into oblivion. You can put an inferior work out of its misery or assassinate an artistic genius who makes your own work look average. A piece might survive a week or a day or just an afternoon.

An artist at work that Sunday morning said he invests no more than a few hours creating his masterpieces. I reached for the Spanish word ‘espantáneo’ to express my admiration of his dexterity but the syllables didn’t came out quite right. He thanked me in English.

It’s impossible to get off the metro and walk a few blocks anywhere in Barcelona without finding something you didn’t expect and you didn’t know existed.

Every time you start a sentence you don’t know how to finish, strangers in the shops, elevators and streets will come to your rescue.

Barrio of Eixample, Barcelona – And when they realize you’re here to study Spanish, they’ll encourage you with the phrase “poco a poco” which means relax, give yourself some time.

That concept has been pushed beyond its limits by the still unfinished basilica that looms over the rooftops of Eixample. It faces me across the table at dinner every evening. When finally completed it’ll be the tallest place of worship on earth.

Ground breaking for the Sagrada Family began almost a century and a half ago. Its principal architect Antoni Gaudí died in a tragic accident.

Since then a cluster fuck of architects, committees and people with more euros than design sense have been involved. Four long decades of ‘Spanish Fascist Architecture’ didn’t help.

There’s a prank the residents here like to play on their visitors.

They’ll ask what you think of Gaudí’s “brilliant, world-class” landmark in progress, knowing that the travelers code of courtesy requires you to wax eloquent about its beauty.

Then they announce they agree with George Orwell that the edifice is “one of the most hideous buildings in the world.”

It’s a treat when strangers stop to pass the time of day. Even during your first weeks of classes when you’re still sounding your ‘h’s and you can’t conjugate your way out of the infinitive, they’ll tell you your Spanish is very good.

Such generous liars, these people of Barcelona.