The week that was.

From the 23^rd to the 30^th of April, I had so many and varied adventures that I’ve been wondering how to combine it all in one post. Let’s see how I do.

I’ve been in the final stages of becoming legal and procuring a new apartment; my AirBnB was up on the 30^th of April, when I would fly to the US. Everything needed to be done before my departure. In the next few days, I registered at the police station, negotiated a lease and planned for my trip.

April 23^rd was a very busy day for me; I had three important appointments in what is one of the busiest intersections/areas in Barcelona. This is why I booked them on the same day. What I did not realize that it was the Feast of Sant Jordi (St. George), when everyone gives everyone else flowers and books (beauty and intellect?) and strolls around town. People decorate homes and buildings with roses, and flower and book stands pop up on every block. It’s lovely.

It was less enjoyable for me trying to navigate the streets in the Diagonal Area, many of which were closed to cars and all full of people strolling in the sun. At least one of my stops was unfamiliar to me, so I was madly searching street names and addresses. In Barcelona, there are certain streets which, when interrupted by a cross street, often do not continue under the same name; or the continue  several meters down and to the left. The fact that the masses of people in front of me were walking at parade speed caused me some frustration, because the only thing worse than being late is being lost and late. But, it was hardly appropriate for me to express my feelings when I was the one not participating in their holiday. I persevered and, after my last appointment, sat and enjoyed the spirit of the day.

I found someone with a car to help me move the heavy things from my old to my new apartment. He was to come at 1:00 on Monday, the 28^th. By 12:30, I had packed everything and placed it by the door. At 12:35 (not an embellishment), the power went out. I did what one does: I checked the building hallway and saw that it was dark; I went downstairs and confirmed that the whole block was out; I talked to people who said that the whole country was out. (Not sure how they knew).

Not only had we lost power, we lost internet, including WhatsApp, cell phone service, subways and trains.

And our credit and bank cards were useless. Ponder that.

There was absolutely nothing to do. It was a sunny day, and the restaurants were serving food that didn’t need to be cooked, but only to those with cash. Supermarkets couldn’t accept cards either, so they ended up closing early. And we all wandered about calmly but with no idea what had happened or how long it would continue. And there was no way to communicate.

However, everyone was more than civil. I had several pleasant conversations with strangers.  I can’t imagine how people would behave in the US, with our “I’m entitled to everything working all the time and need to lash out when it doesn’t” mentality.

Around 6:30, the electricity came back. I heard cheering in the street. Now that the elevator was working, I took two of my four big bags down the elevator and into the street. Because my street was mostly for pedestrians. I rolled my bags to the nearest main road. A taxi driver pulled over and, smiling, said “You’d better have cash, because the charge machines aren’t working.” I started to panic until I realized that I had five euros and change. He said that wouldn’t be enough, so I told him to take me as far as he could and then let me off to walk the rest of the way. Because traffic was light, I made it all the way.

After moving the bags upstairs, I went back down to get another taxi. But, then, I didn’t have five euros. So I went to the ATM, where there was a line, and waited. Service was intermittent, and I was not one of the lucky ones for whom it worked. I went to the back of the line to try again (since there was nothing I could do and nowhere to go), but- no luck.  While waiting, the two guys behind me told me that they hadn’t eaten in seven hours, had no cash, and still couldn’t use their credit cards. I was in similar straits.

I then tried the subway, which I had heard was working. It wasn’t.

So, I walked. Three kilometers.

A half block from my old place, I saw a small bank with an ATM. I tried it and, praise the lord, it worked. (Would’ve been nice three kilometers earlier.) It appears that my life is a weird comedy where I encounter obstacles serious enough to make me crazy and anxious and then, at the last moment, I am pulled from the brink so I can toddle on until the next challenge. So I got a precious 40 euros, went back for my other bags, dragged them downstairs to the street and took a taxi.

The moral of the story is to always carry cash, an emergency radio, and a day’s supply of food on your back (or, for non-urban folks, in your cars).

A tender moment:  I saw some people, mostly young and despondent, walking down the street desperately glued to their cell phones.  They were probably praying to a Tech God for deliverance.

The internet came back around 10 p.m. and cell phone service the next day. The cause, we were told, was not cyber terrorism; however, it was technology-related and came from outside the country. Isn’t that kind of the definition of….? Never mind.

By Wednesday, the night before my flight, all was ready. I then remembered (when I heard a pre-May Day protest), that May 1 was an international holiday (for workers). I had forgotten this when I first booked my flights. So then I imagined being stuck in a march on the way to the airport. I left obscenely early for a noon flight to Paris. I won’t get into the horror I experienced at Charles de Gaulle Airport; but I made the flight with three minutes to spare and completely enraged.

Oh, and by the way, my California address is the same,  but my Spanish place is on C. de Manso in the edificio paralelo on entresuelo 1. This translates to my living on a docile street in a parallel building on an in-between floor.

I know that’s what you were wishing for me.