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7PLY EPIC

7Ply Epic

Stories & thoughts of a traveling skateboarder.

Arriving in España

10/19/2017

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It was a heavy step through those narrow Customs gates. The passport stamp implied, “Welcome to Barcelona,” as if to assure me of my acceptance in Catalonia. I knew it'd be soon that I’d see Chloe again for the first time in two weeks. The baggage claim area was hot & humid, the currency exchange shit, yet I was more hyped than I’d felt in a handful of years. Hearing Spanish being spoken in every direction, like an impromptu symphony of humanity, was making me feel at home, all the while letting go and drifting into the present moments.

Café con leche was my first tangible piece of an experience in España; little did I know that it would be the first of many, dozens… And as I took my third sip of coffee, I remember this clearly, I look up to see Chloe smiling at me. Clearly and with excitement, we were together again for weeks abroad, on a journey unprecedented for myself.

On the public bus, headed toward the city center from BCN, I was constantly recognizing skate spots from the magazines I study. As if the tricks I’d seen captured in the past were happening live in front of me, I imagined those moments with more clarity and stoke than I'd realized I could. Probably to the dismay of Chloe, my eyes were locked on the outside world. The landscape of a brand new city, an international skateboarding hub, no less. The graffiti walls lining the freeways began to transform into a mish mosh of storefronts, homey stoops and foot traffic … people watching. Granted the 10-hour flight had me feeling in an odd mood, the stoke was real and that bus was not getting to its destination quickly enough! It was time to battle off the jet lag with partying. A solid meal and several glasses of wine.
Picture
first views of the city, en route from the airport
We made the transfer to the metro and the walk to the front door of our hostel - our home for the next five nights. Close to La Sagrada Familia and clearly affected by its architecture & energy, the neighborhood was casually stylish and authentically Spanish in appearance. I felt like I’d walked right into the movie sets I’d seen over all the years of life thus far. The hostel itself was an enthralling maze of good people and comfy furniture - a perfect place for us to come back to for the next several days. Immediately meeting Americans, Brits, Chileans, and Germans, we felt the hostel life in full force and were ready for the good times ahead.

A friend Chloe had previously made, Kaevon, met with us for (a much-needed) dinner, so we wandered off to find a good-looking restaurant offering tapas. For that first meal, we were not being price-conscious, and we ordered whatever the fuck we wanted. A couple bottles of nice wine, six or seven tapas, all delicious, maybe a few more after that… The meal was a celebration of my arrival and of Kaevon’s last night in Europe. A bittersweet acknowledgment of human experience, both budding & concluding.
Picture
Chloe and Kaevon a la cena
And then, the only stiff rain we experienced during our two weeks in Spain, happened. Loosely headed in the direction of a bar with live music, we were thoroughly caught in a downpour. We were becoming unbearably wet yet loving it. It may have only been after a few drinks that night, but we found ourselves emotionally and literally singing and dancing in the rain. At some point, my body told me to go home and go to bed (I’d been awake for about 24 hours) and so we made our way eastward, back to Primavera Hostel.

The air conditioning was non-existent in the dorm, so each night was a new game of "which position is most pleasant to sweat in?” Waking up was always alarming until you realized that you’re in Barcelona with a full day ahead of you! Finding a place that would exchange my dollars for Euros was an adventure that first full day we had together in Spain. It led us to seeing a lot of the city, specifically the Gothic Quarter for quite some time. Tourism in Barcelona in late July is about as hot as it gets, so our objective became to see the coolest the city had to offer while avoiding as much tourist mass as possible. It became a game, something that we knew we would never win but that we could improve at over time. A valuable skill used throughout the rest of our time in Europe.

Stumbling across MACBA was amazing. I knew the general direction but forgot about it for a few hours when I saw that gap over the trash can (skate nerds will understand). One of the “holy grails” of mainstream skateboarding culture was right there, under my feet. Seeing the skaters from all over the world (I’d confirm this later in the week when I returned with my skateboard) was a truly cool experience, and it quickly made me feel anonymous in a real international city (which I like). There was a moment when I realized, these guys are from all over the world, none of them is better than any of the others, we’re all here for the same reason, and I’m nothing without the greater group. The community there was robust and unique, like the exotic species of fish you might see in an fish tank together. You hope that they’re all friends, even if they don’t speak the same language. They’re in it together for the sake of that passion (for skateboarding in this case), and the language barrier is barely a barrier at all.
Picture
MACBA (Museu d'Art Contemporani de Barcelona [Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art])
We continued onward, in search of some shade & a cold beverage. It was the plan to not drink alcohol during the day, but there were just way too many cool places to have a beer in Barcelona. Our plan was fortunately foiled. Riding a buzz, I ordered a pizza somewhere (not always the best choice of food in Spain), and we sat in a plaza enjoying our surroundings. A light breeze, the light murmur of playing children at a nearby playground, and the content laughter of fellow customers at nearby tables. Looking into Chloe’s eyes seemed like a good thing to do in the moment… for the rest of the day… Yet we had much more daylight at our disposal and a thirst for the unseen in that wonderful new city. The ensuing stories were only beginning to lay themselves before us.

The unknown was all around us, and our hunger for all of it was as strong as I’d felt since I moved away from home at 18 years old. It was time for at least 50 more days of this, in at least five different countries, together.

This is a whole new volume.

 - 7Ply Epic
1 Comment
Mary Lynne Johnson
10/19/2017 06:49:27 pm

Thoroughly enjoyed your piece. Thanks for sharing this adventurous, exciting travelogue.
Living vicariously through you until I’m out there myself.😍

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