Me llama ‘guapa’ ;)

Quentin Tarantino on my flight from Frankfurt to BCN :)

3rd day here in BCN and it has not stopped raining since the 5th hour I arrived. Amazingly, I barely notice the rain, the downpour, and the gray melancholy skies that the locals run inside cafes from.
This city has embraced me from the time I stepped onto the taxi stand in front of the airport. Seriously.

Starting with seeing my Oprah size bags at baggage claim, I am sizing up Quentin Tarantino, getting ready to ask him if I can borrow his brawn, when a nice young gentleman (from SF, believe it or not!), stepped up to the plate and picked up each ton off the conveyor belt, then placing them perfectly onto my cart-I must say Quentin did look a little disappointed that he didn’t act quick enough. Then, the taxi drivers practically fighting over which one will be delivering me to my destination-making almost a check mate with their cars. All the old fuddy duddy English couples hemming & hawing about missing the early bird special behind me. Oh well, I’ve paid my dues thus far. And it’s my time to cash in some chips.

The sweet taxi driver doesn’t speak a lick of English, and I am not about to attempt my Spanish.
It’s 74 degrees, muggy, dark skies, and I love it! Locals are dressed like they are in Tahoe during Thanksgiving-kid you not! Scarves and all. Ha! This is fabulous weather! My address for the next 7 days will be at San Ramon #7, I tell the driver. He is a bit confused and gets his map book out; it only takes about 10 minutes from the airport to the center.

I can tell he wants to say something to me but doesn’t know how…he starts with the word ‘mal’ in a very soft tone, not wanting to undermine my choice of accommodations. Tell me more, I say. He makes gestures as to a needle in the arm and that is all I needed. The “barrios”, I add to the description.
“Si, Si”. We are now driving right through, and yes it is the straight g h e t t o of BCN. Lovely, good job Nicole-all your Internet skills, and communications have done you well. Funny thing though, I had no worries, or panic at all. I just told him I don’t want to stay here if you say so…take me where you think is best. He calls a friend of his that speaks English and hands me the phone…two minutes later I am in front of a darling hotel in the Gracia. Kindly, Mr. Taxi unloads my two tons of fun and makes sure I am settled. I can’t thank him enough! I obtain a beautiful room on the top floor with a huge veranda, slip on some jammies, and pass out until 7am the next morning.

Awake completely refreshed, I hop out of bed, take a shower, and doll myself up for the day. First on the list of to-dos, cell phone.
Head to vodaphone. I decided not to map out anything. Getting lost is the best way to be found. Find it in 10 minutes. A very handsome 30-something Spanish man helps me-in English-thankfully. He also directs me to Radio Watt, a store where I purchase converter plugs for my laptop and other electronic necessities. iPod on full blast with my new favorite song-Needy Girl, by Chromeo-I strut through the narrow streets.

In Barcelona, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE looks you in the eye as you pass. I love that. I have missed that. My past 8 years in San Francisco did not have the depth, insightfulness, or passion that
this city has given me in three days.