nobody expects the spanish inquisition ! ! !

bad to good to bad to worse… ate a big bar of chocolate caffeine thursday night and got no sleep. waiting for the bus friday morn, i watched 2 grey he pigeons on the ridge of the roof fluff fight each other to see who got to approach the white dove lady… winner did his little plump and bow dance, she cooed and billed back.

in bezier, picked up 2 books of camus’ essays i’d ordered – the myth of sisyphus / the rebel – and took great foto of underground passage. we sat in the sun in poet’s park, watched 2 turtles swim in slow spring synchronous love dance from one side of the pond, then watched rough rape duck sex on the other side – poor little female black duck’s head was crushed upside down to the stone as large mallard bit her neck, repeatedly mounted her as he smashed her all over the rock.

golden sun train through france during which we watch out the windows as pink flamingos dip their beaks into the blue mediterranean sea. during 2 hour train change at port bou spain, we walked down to the sea, marveled at living post card beauty. lot of couples holding hands, hugging, kissing – including us.

then it turns bad. get on spanish train. hard seats, crowded conditions, innumerable stops on the journey that never ends. my ass went dead. previous night’s lack of sleep and carrying 40 pound pack reduced my brain to mush, my body to pain, my identity to desperate holding on. one of those points you want to quit but can’t cuz no one’s going to do it or fix it for you.

in barcelona hotel last night, we had to choose between going back out to buy semi-legal hashish, or taking a bath. we took the bath – 2 of them. we soaked in sweet liquid heat before bed, and again this morning. past 8 months, we’ve had a bathtub one night in september in poland, and 1 day in zagreb in december.

today we had to change hotels. tried to take train, but our two day passes quit after half a day part way through. bought more passes. took train. train didn’t stop at our stop. went into next stop station for help. window closed as we walked up to it. used up a train ride on new pass to go thru style into station to check for next train back. it never came. we sat and watched unknown train after unknown train stop, wondering if we should get on each one. started raining. we began sniping at each other. finally picked one at random and got on. it went past our stop again. back at starting point 3 hours after starting, we took twenty minute $20 taxi to our hotel. we’re in cloned deteriorating suburban sprawl, looks just like cleveland sprawl or lodz poland sprawl. sprawl is sprawl is sprawl. lady k’s as tired and sore as i now. no energy to go back out for sights or hash. no bath here, just shower. thinking about taping up the shower door, filling it with water, and soaking.

we sit and wait for morning to go back where we started today, store our backpacks, and look about barcelona – the same looking about we were going to do friday and the same looking about we were going to do today. at 4 tomorrow we train to madrid for 2 days, then fly to morocco. spain is the new amsterdam, supposed to be drug heaven. where’s my semi-legal hash? where’s my cake decoration buildings by the architect guadi i came to see?

can’t understand how 40 pounds of backpack can be so heavy. back in my drinking days, i was 80 pounds heavier than i am now – that’s 2 backpacks worth… surely i should be able to tote half that now.

barcelona has turned so bad it’s funny – and it had to be this way. when we decided to flee america last year, we chose barcelona. went to england instead, to be followed by barcelona. then amsterdam snuck in before barcelona. then poland. then croatia. then france.

i believe we hurt barcelona’s feelings by choosing all those other countries first. i don’t think barcelona likes us at all. so far, the feeling’s mutual.

finally make it to barcelona, and we’re too beat to boogie.

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