Day 14, Sunday, April 9

It took another two hours to get to Barcelona. I exchanged some traveler's checks into pesetas and hailed a cab who then took me to old town, the city's tourist district. I was in a hurry to get some sleep so I paid for two nights in the first hostel I found with vacancy. It was about twenty-eight dollars a night for a narrow bare room with two single beds and a desk, reminiscent of Zagreb. I crashed for about five hours.

CAUTION: SWEARWORDS AHEAD!

When I awoke I walked three blocks to The Ramblas, the main avenue that runs through the old part of the city. It was a zoo, crowded with tourists as well as locals. There were street performers--mimes, puppeteers, and musicians--and small crowds of people threw coins into their hats.

After a couple hours of walking around looking at all the sights I sat down at a sidewalk cafe and ordered a Bailey's. Four English women sat down at the table next to me and we engaged in friendly conversation. They were sipping large beers and taking turns eating from a giant ice cream sundae. As we were relaxing a man with a harmonica approached another patron of the cafe, held out his hat, and said, "All right, we're going to have some music now--Let's have a few coins". The patron waved him off so he walked over to me and said in a perfect British accent, "All right, we're going to have some music now--Let's have a few coins". This was an unusual approach, so I gave a reasoned reply. "Tell you what--Play first and if I like it I will give you a few coins." He responded yelling emphatically, "YOU ARE A BASTARD--A FUCKING AMERICAN BASTARD!! GO BACK TO AMERICA, YOU AREN'T WANTED HERE!! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!! (There was more, but you get the idea.) I just sat there and looked at this raving idiot at the same time ready to grab a chair and defend myself if I had to. He then calmed down and went back into his routine. He said to the English women, "All right, we're going to have some music now--Let's have a few coins". Without hesitation they said, "No way, get out of here, you're rude, go away." As he started to leave I said "You blew it buddy." He immediately turned into Mister Hyde. "YOU FUCKING AMERICAN BASTARD!! THE SPANISH DON'T WANT YOU HERE!! GO BACK TO THE UNITED STATES YOU FUCKING BASTARD!! I HOPE SOMEBODY STICKS YOU WITH A KNIFE AND SLASHES YOUR THROAT!! After he left I could still hear him a hundred feet away raving about fucking American bastards. (If it weren't for fucking American bastards he'd be speaking German and walking around in goose-steps!)

Day 15, Monday, April 10

After only one night in the dingy hostel I decided to move. Since I was just glad to get out of there I let the owner keep the extra night's rent. I found a reasonable 3-star hotel for my last two nights. It was located in the central part of old town just a half block off The Ramblas and it had a phone, television, a large double bed, and (thank god) a nice tiled bathroom. (Up until now every European bathroom had short shower curtains which allowed water to go all over the floor. This one was the first to have a long shower curtain.)

I spent the entire day walking around old town, taking in an occasional museum. A block away from my hotel was the daily market, a huge building that took up almost an entire city block. By now I was getting a little tired of looking at old stuff and was just biding my time until my flight home on Wednesday.

Day 16, Tuesday, April 11

I walked down to the waterfront where there was a much acclaimed aquarium. The admission was expensive, 1400 pesetas (about $9.00). It turned out to be no big deal. When you're from the Pacific Northwest it takes more than a few tankfulls of fish to impress you. (The Pt. Defiance aquarium in Tacoma is superior.) I did notice that the fish had the intelligence to yield to one another as they were swimming.

It started to rain pretty heavily and I waited until I was drenched before I bought an umbrella. I then set out for the Picasso museum. I waited in line with all the other tourists for twenty minutes. The museum had about forty large rooms with works of the artist, many that were donated by Picasso himself. Now here's a guy that had an immense talent. His early works were in the classical style. (They looked like what they were.) However he didn't receive any special recognition and was probably languishing in poverty. Then along came some snooty intellectuals and impressionism and he probably thought, "What am I doing working my butt off producing good art when I could be painting junk?" From then on, of course, he became rich and famous for painting women with arms sticking out of their heads. Instead of producing a painting every two weeks, he could now produce a painting in an hour and have the rest of the day to party, which of course is what he usually did. Non-the-less he was prolific as there are several Picasso museums in Europe.

Later that day I saw my English harmonica-playing buddy working a scam on a tourist. He asked a man for a cigarette then once "in the door" he began asking for money. I saw the poor sucker reach in his pocket and give him some change. I thought about walking past the guy myself but I knew he would have freaked.

I noticed that there was more of a sidewalk etiquette in Barcelona than in Italy but I think this had more to do with the large numbers of polite tourists in the area I was in. I did notice, however, that most Spanish men did not yield their "space". I was sitting at a sidewalk cafe sipping a beer and smoking an over-priced Havana cigar when I witnessed a young man walking on a trajectory toward a lady. The lady looked to be a tourist and was walking slowly with her head down reading a map or pamphlet. Although there was an entire 30-foot wide sidewalk in which to walk the young man did not yield. With her head still down the lady bumped into him as the man stopped. The lady then said "excuse me" and walked around him. (I wander if he was Italian.)

That night I went out one last time and bought some postcards and souvenirs to take home. I had to be at the airport early the next morning so I bought a bottle of Bailey's to help me get to sleep early. It did the job.

Day 17, Wednesday, April 12

My new Croatian alarm clock woke me up at 6 am. I showered, shaved, and packed for my long excursion back home. In the lobby I met an older lady that was also going to the airport so we split the fare for a cab. She spoke English quite well and we had a good conversation. She was on her way to a wedding in northern Spain. She had once visited a daughter who used to live in Seattle and said she thought the area was beautiful. I told her that I thought Spain was a beautiful country and that Barcelona was a great city.

At British Airways I changed my one-way fare to London to a round trip fare. (It was a hundred dollars cheaper!) I had a window seat again and was able to see some pretty scenery over Spain and France. We arrived at Heathrow airport at 11:00 am.

The flight to Vancouver, Canada was on an Airbus equivalent of a 747. I was seated in a section with 50 young British teenagers that were members of soccer and field hockey teams that were going to compete against Canadians. I sat next to a 13-year old girl that was disappointed that she didn't get to sit next to her friends so she wasn't much for conversation. Fortunately they showed a couple of movies. The head of the flight crew should have been a stand-up comedian as his off-beat announcements had everyone in stitches. And of course the stewardesses worked tirelessly feeding everyone and making them comfortable. I had a window seat again and during our nine-hour flight we flew over the ice fields of southern Greenland. (Did you know the ice off the coast of Greenland is over a mile thick?) You can't look out for more that two seconds at a time or you will go blind from the glare. Then over desolate northern Canada which has lots of tundra and icy lakes and finally--some trees, the Canadian Cascades, and the Pacific Ocean. The British teenagers were awed by the mountains and forests as we made our descent over Vancouver. I was able to point out things to them. "There's Whistler's ski resort, Vancouver Island, Stanley Park, the inland sound, etc." I felt like I was home already.

At the airport I was routed to U.S. Customs where I spent more time than all the other customs put together. They were polite as they did a thorough search of my luggage. I then had to wait four hours to take a half-hour flight to Seattle. I spent the time reading my English newspaper, playing the mandolin and drinking the last of my Bailey's which U.S. Customs had thought was chocolate milk because it was in a plastic water bottle. Anyway, time's fun when you're having flies. My flight was called and all passengers proceeded to a little prop plane on the runway. It seated about thirty passengers. I got a window seat again and the man seated next to me was friendly. He was a salesman from Aberdeen and this was the fourth flight he had taken that day. It was beautiful as we flew over the San Jaun Islands in clear view of the Strait of Jaun de Fuca and the Olympics. (Europe has nothing like this.) Soon we were flying over Bainbridge Island and making a smooth landing at Sea Tac.

I waited another forty minutes for Katrina to pick me up. An ex-student of mine and now a bandmate, she had stayed at my house and fed my cat for the past seventeen days. She told me she just got a full music scholarship to Arizona State. (Good for her!) As we pulled off the freeway and onto Pearl Street something became so obvious. Everything was so brand new!! In Europe you get used to looking at cobblestone streets, five hundred year old buildings, and thousand year old cathedrals and castles. Here there were newly paved roads, supermarkets and actual wood houses. Ah, home sweet home.

After coming home it took about a month to absorb my European experience. There is definitely a contrast in philosophy between the U.S. and Europe. They have such a long history which anchors them to the past much more than us. Americans are more accustomed to change, both social and technological. Economically the European countries have not even evolved into "service" economies, let alone information economies. Believe it or not we are also a comparatively tolerant and polite society.

Should I visit Europe again I would travel in the Eastern part--Croatia again, Romania, Bulgaria, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and maybe Poland. This is based on my pleasant experiences in Croatia and also because the dollar goes a long way in these countries. I would also travel in the fall instead of the spring (less chance of rain). However I highly recommend traveling to anywhere in Europe. It is an eye-opening experience.