Barcelona - part 1
After three years living in this wonderful city, Viv knew that if he didn't leave soon, he would never be able to get away; and he still had his master plan at the back of his mind.
He'd left the UK after a really good sendoff by friends and family (13th - 17th Jan.*), and arrived in Barcelona after getting a bus from Girona airport.
He'd been dropped off in Plaça Cataluña, the square right in the heart of the city, but at the time he had no clear idea where he was, so he walked over to the map standing outside a metro station, studied it carefully, and selected a place called 'Plaça do Centre'. "Ah, this must be where the city centre is", he thought to himself, so he went down the steps and caught the metro to this station. It was now about 6pm in evening and beginning to get dark when Viv emerged near a quiet square near the outskirts of the city. Loaded down with a rucksack and heavy holdall, and exhausted from the trip and excesses of the previous few days, he selected what looked to be a the main road and started walking in a direction chosen at random.
He was hot and running out of steam when he drew up beside a bar with bright lights and what looked like a welcoming interior. It was time to see what Spanish beer was like. Shrugging off his luggage and leaving it in a corner, he sat at the bar and ordered the first of many 'San Miguels'.
One beer followed another, and soon he was chatting with the barmen and finding common ground. One of the barmen had been to the Pyrenees mountains, and showed Viv the photos he'd taken during his trip there. Without knowing it at the time, Viv had just found the bar which would become his 'local' for the next three years, and a place he would return to thousands of times.
At about 11pm, the barmen started making moves to shut the bar, so Viv asked if there was a hotel in the area (this may seem straightforward enough, but the only Spanish he knew at the time had been memorised from a second-hand book called 'Teach yourself Spanish', and this book had been written at a time when it was considered useful to know how to say "Bring me my horse and chain mail" in Spanish!!). He was directed to turn left on leaving the bar, and just a few metres up this side street he found a green lit sign reading 'Hostel Conde Guell'. It was a relief to climb the stairs at the entrance and check in to what would become his temporary home for the next month. Time to explore the city a bit! Realising his mistake about where the city centre was, Viv used his multiple journey metro ticket to return to Plaça Cataluña and see what the real city centre had to offer.
The next day, refreshed after a good night's sleep, Viv descended the stairs and emerged from the hostel into a bright, sunny day. First, he looked right, down towards the Bar Santilari, where he'd spent the previous evening, then, turning to look up the road, to the left, he froze*1 with his mouth open. Framed*2 between the buildings at the end of the street he was staying in, and dwarfing them, was one side of the huge Nou Camp - the FC Barcelona stadium, and the largest football stadium in Europe. "Well, I've chosen an interesting place to put down some roots", Viv thought to himself.
The events of this first day have already been recounted in the chapter ' close call' and the diary entry for this day.
The original plan had been to visit a Basque girl, Arantza, who he'd met during his teacher training course (RSA Preparatory Certificate) at International House in Hastings. She'd been studying at the school and his intention was to visit her in San Sebastian, where she lived, after arriving in Spain. However, when he called her he discovered from her mum that she wouldn't be at home for a week. "Ok, I'll stay in Barcelona for a while", Viv thought to himself. As things worked out, she visited Barcelona several times before he finally went to see her in the Basque Country (1st April).
With a week in Rio in front of him and very little money to spend, why not see if he could find some work?
On Monday 20th January, two days after his arrival in Catalunya, Viv put on his best shirt, trousers and shoes and started visiting language schools. He made his way to Plaça D'Espana, admired the beautiful architecture for a while, then headed down the Gran Via, which links praças D'España and Catalunya. Not far down this road, on the left-hand side, he found the Watford English Centre. After an introduction to the owner, Dennis, Viv explained his situation to Dennis's wife, Julia, who was also the school the receptionist. Although a position wasn't available at that school, she put him in touch with a friend of hers, who ran*3 a language school in Esplugues de Llobregat, in the mountains half an hour outside the city. An interview was arranged for the next day.
Viv had been prepared exceptionally well for his future profession at IH Hastings, but the truth of the matter was that he'd never taught an unsupervised class in his life. Therefore, it was a bit of a shock when, sitting in front of the school director expecting a job interview, he heard "I'm terribly sorry. I know that you've come here for a job interview, but one of my teachers hasn't come to work and I've got a group of 12 nine-year olds waiting for a class. Could you teach them?". "No problem", said Viv confidently. He was shown into the classroom where the children were waiting, and spent the next hour teaching them the names of animals. It was great fun because he got them all up on their feet pretending to be elephants, lions and monkeys! When he'd arrived for the interview, in his holdall, along with the CV, there were flashcards, coloured pens, board markers and a board rubber - all the tools of the trade!
Over the next few weeks there would regularly be a knock on Viv's door at the hostel at about 5 o'clock. It was a phone call from Anne, the school director, saying "Viv, I've got a class for you. Can you come and teach?". An hour later, he'd arrive in the small suburban town not knowing the level, size of class or age of the students he'd be teaching, and do the best he could. Looking back, Viv feels that this baptism of fire was some sort of sadistic test! In three weeks, he'd taught all age groups, from youngsters to adults, all levels (beginner to advanced) and all class sizes (from one-to-one to a class of 16). He'd also been given a class in a company which included management, senior executives and shop floor workers. This involved handling with great tact: it isn't easy to tell the company president to stop answering questions and give the humble mechanic a chance to speak!
After (successfully?) passing all the
tests, the job mysteriously came to an end, and for some reason, Viv became paranoid
about what was going on around him. The public phone he used in the Santilari
bar started making funny noises and he felt that he was being followed while
moving around the city (27th Feb). If the idea of being followed wasn't just a figment
of his imagination, Viv must have caused the authorities, who didn't realise he
was just a paranoid English teacher who enjoyed being with Catalans, some difficulties,
as one of the techniques he used was to get on a metro train, wait until the
doors were beginning to close, then stepping back onto the platform again. A
technique learnt from some spy film or other!
Viv had put
up adverts at the British
Council and on university notice
boards, and through this was able to get a few private students, but
after one month, he'd reached the situation where he could no longer afford
to stay in the hostel - he wasn't earning enough money to do this. Apart from
the Santilari, another of Viv's favourite bars was a small cafe in a side
street near the hostel run by an elderly couple. This bar had a grey parrot in a cage, and Viv spent hours
trying to teach it to whistle at pretty women walking past on the
street (with very limited success). Realising that his days at the hostel were running out, Viv mentioned his problem to
the barmaid
in the 'Parrot Bar', and she introduced him to Bernardo, a flamenco guitar
player who would give him his first introduction to the flat which would become
his home for the next three years (see diary entry for 13th Feb.).
It was only
with help from his mum, who sent the money he needed for the deposit,
that Viv was able to pick up the keys to the flat in Calle Occidente,
L'Hospitalet de Llobregat, just across the 'border', a road called the Riera
Blanca, with the Municipality of Barcelona. It was only a couple of minutes
walk from Viv's old hostel, and in the area in which he had chosen to make his
home. The night he moved in was very stressful because the metro Viv took to
get there was crowded with football fans going to see Barça play a European Cup
match.. His first night was spent sleeping on the floor in the master bedroom
(see 26th Feb.).The flat had no water,
electricity, gas or furniture, but the neighbours in the flat opposite (the
other side of an internal building well) threw one electric cable across to
him, so at night he had one electric light (Viv paid for this electricity, of
course). He got water from hand pumps in the street, and this had to
be carried to his flat in a 20 litre glass mineral water bottle daily. There's
no better way to learn how not to waste
water than to have to carry all the water you use on your back! (Viv used his
rucksack to carry the water bottles). To start with, Viv used a small petrol camping
stove for all his cooking. When he got a portable gas stove, he
could then cook two things at the same time (making meat & vegetables viable)
- what luxury! The flat's gas supply would only be reconnected several
months later.
The first
few months were lived literally hand
to mouth, and an indication of this poverty
is that one night, he went out in the streets and
picked cigarette butts*4 off the ground because
he'd run out of tobacco and didn't have enough money to buy more. Using Rizla cigarette papers, he
carefully took all the tobacco out of the cigarettes he'd found and made enough
cigarettes to last until the next payment for classes arrived!
Apart from
the essential support he received from his mum, there was a family, with the surname
'Catalan', who lived in the flat next to the first flat he moved into in the
building (the one he was forced to leave - see 13th Feb.). Mario, and his daughter Jemma,
helped explain the situation to Viv when the deal with Bernardo fell through,
and subsequently, this family would help in many ways. Firstly, Viv started
teaching Jemma English in the living room of the flat, using the single electric
light bulb sent across by the neighbours opposite. Secondly, at the weekend, a
few weeks after arrival, Mario knocked on the door and said that he had a
friend who was moving from a flat with furniture
to another furnished flat, and would Viv like to buy all his furniture for
50,000pts (about £30 in those days). The answer was affirmative and from one
day to the next Viv had beds, sofa, armchairs and enough furniture for all
three bedrooms - even though he had no idea what two of them looked like
because they'd only been seen them by torchlight!.
Finally, there was one day which has stuck in Viv's memory after all these
years. Viv was sitting at home in the covered balcony overlooking a grassy area
at the back of the building feeling a bit depressed. For the first, and only,
time since arriving in Spain (and in his entire life), he was feeling hungry
and had no food in the house, and no money to buy any food. It was a Sunday,
and he knew that he wouldn't receive any more money until the next day.
Unexpectedly, the doorbell rang, and when he opened it, Viv
found Gloria, Mario's wife, standing outside the front door with a bowl of
steaming hot paella.
"I've just made this paella, and there's a lot left over. Would you like
some?", she said. Viv thanked her profusely,
and enjoyed the delicious home-made meal. It really was an incredible
coincidence. This was the only time Gloria bought food, and it was the only
time Viv really needed someone to do so. A bit later on, still sitting on the
balcony, with a full stomach and listening to the radio, a song came on which
seemed so powerful it brought Viv to tears. The song was 'New kid in town' by the
Eagles. Mario, Gloria and Jemma, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank you
once again for helping me to survive in a city which will always stay very
close to my heart.
As each
month went
by, Viv would receive his salary for the work he'd done, and when
there was enough left over, he would slowly but surely get his flat in
order. First, and most importantly, the water was connected. Then
the gas, but it would take several months before he could finally get the
electricity re-connected and, for the first time, see clearly what the two
spare bedrooms and the kitchen looked like (these rooms had no external windows
and overlooked the internal building well*5). The
last two additions, to make things perfect were when the phone was connected
and Viv bought his car.
After the
job in Esplugues finished, Viv taught some private classes and went from school
to school looking for work. The next place he worked was at a French-based
language school, teaching French, English and German, called Ediepe. It was
here that Viv was able to teach is first group right the way through a level of
English. He was teaching at the SEAT car company - a group of
beginners, a mixture of engineers and production line workers. They were a great bunch
of people and Viv was even invited for a meal at the home of one of them (a
Galiego, called Modesto). He took this class very seriously as it was the first
group he had using a course book over a period of time, and spent as much time
planning each class (as he'd been trained to do at Hastings - see Work & Office) as teaching.
It was he
was at Ediepe that Viv saw Petra for the first time. She was a German teacher,
also working for them, and he was attracted to her from the very first moment
he laid eyes on her. The next time they met
was on the metro. Viv was returning home after teaching at the car factory,
when Petra entered the same carriage. They talked shyly for a while, and Viv
remembers clearly that when she got off at her stop, she gave him a kiss on the
cheek. Then he decided to gather his courage together to ask her out. The invitation
was accepted and they met for a drink at a bar in the Plaça Real, and from
there they walked all the way back to Colblanc, where Viv lived, stopping at
bars and resting on the swings in children's playground. The last stop was a
heavy metal disco not far from Viv's, where they danced both fast and slow. It
was the start of a love affair which, for Viv, would last over ten years.
After the
course at Ediepe finished, Viv was contacted by Julia, who he had met on the
first day he looked for work in Barcelona. She invited him to come for an
interview with the school director (Dennis, her husband), and after this
interview, Viv started working full time at the Watford
English Centre, where he would stay until he finally left the
city.
*1 v. intre. - def. 7
*2 v.tr. -
def. 5
*3 v.tr.
def. 31
*4 Entry 4
- def. 2a
*5 Noun - Entry 2 - def. 5
