España donde esta mi España...

So was I down a the bakery this morning waiting on line for my sometimes regular Sunday "Media Luna" which is basically an very good apple turnover. OK its not really Spanish or Catalan it's French and comes from a quasi-French bakery chain called "Paul." So I guess I'm cheating but for many things like this and croissants Paul is pretty much "the" place for this kind of baking. But to give credit where credit is do the bakery across the street has the best bread in Barcelona... I should know because I'v probably tried 100 bakeries so far.

So it's a Sunday in August, everybody is away on vacaciones including Benedicte and Zoe who are in the US of A. Living in this very working class barrio I sometimes lose track of the quiet side of Spain and Catalunya. Sants is soooo noisy. Scooters, buses, cars... and everybody trying to be heard by screaming over the top of it all. And lets face it Spaniards are not exactly known for being soft spoken. But Paul and the Calle were for once quiet. I asked the lady in front of me if she was the last in line and she said she was... this very Catalan solution to the lining up problem could be it's most valuable contribution to the world. It's brilliant, you enter a shop, bakery, hardware store and you ask, "Who's last?" The last person responds and you can go about what doing other things or just wait comfortably knowing that all you have to watch that persons progress. Of course when someone new enters and asks the big question you of course are the one who needs to say, "Yo!" And so it continues.

But I found my self waiting comfortably and perusing the newly added ice cream and it's incredibly expensive contents. 125 CL cups for 5 euros... please, this is neighborhood that prefers its ice cream in the shape of Spiderman or Mickey Mouse. The door opening was announced by a very soft bell and not a buzzer from the Gong Show and a pretty young woman entered. She seemed to know the slightly portly fellow who was next in line after me. They greeted each other and began a lovely quiet conversation. She was speaking with this soft and resonant voice that had the lovely sibilant of well spoken Castilian. Beautiful.

Living in Sants I have lost track of what I fell in love with in Spain. It's not the hubbub all though that is part of it. It's not the screaming neighbors or the garbage being picked up outside my bedroom at 4 in the morning. It's voices and people like that girl in Paul.

I'm finding young alternative-y Spanish folks to be what I find most attractive about this country. The are smart, open and committed to change. Older folks can be really hard and closed minded, particularly in working class. Keep up the fight chicos and chicas.