You can have my Barcelona apartment, when you pry it from my cold dead fingers

view out the window

Dang, I love it here. It’s funny now, thinking about the first few weeks here, how we were confused by the stern sound of the Catalan voices, unfamiliar with the food, lost so much of the time, wondering whether we’d made a teensy little mistake coming here for a year.

But now, we can’t stand the thought of leaving. We just discovered sobressada on bread with quail eggs! We can’t leave now. It’s summer. There are granizados and gazpacho everywhere, and you can get a bit of beer in your lemon granizado. Oh my, that’s good. Kids are throwing water balloons in the plazas, and there are fireworks all the time. And the apartment. A little too hot for just an hour or so in the middle of the day, and then after lunch, a wonderful breeze blowing through that just puts…you…to…sleep, and then the endless afternoon, until it finally starts to get dark around nine thirty, ten.

I won’t go, you know. Some folks say I’m not very good at change. I think I’m just not good at leaving Barcelona.



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2 responses to “You can have my Barcelona apartment, when you pry it from my cold dead fingers

  1. you make it sound so wonderful :^)

  2. Janet D.

    Hey Cordelia,

    I just read your entire blog in one sitting, sitting in my courtyard. What a nice way to record memories that will sadly fade far too quickly. And what a gift to your son to record his time there, too. Isn’t it the case that what initially seemed so foreign is now so tough to leave!

    See you soon, yes?

    Janet, L, and the big red dog

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