La Paloma and Clacking Shoes

Lately I have been rediscovering myself, and feeling like a concentrated version of the person I am. I am not very ambitious as an individual, but I have always had this really strong sense of self, but my passions strengthen and wain not unlike the moon. I feel like myself again, and like I know what I need and want from my life.

I wrote a few days ago that I needed to go mad (in the English sense of the word). I was preoccupied with my sudden realisation that I am still in love with my ex, and didn´t want to ruin it by describing my night out, but I had a great time.

I went to the Paloma club in Barcelona. I don´t know exactly where it is as we went all over the place to get there but it is somewhere between El Ravel and San Antoni. It is a huge ballroom with ornate boxes to the left and right and a giant chandelir in the centre rather like a grand crown. The crown was lit up like a Christmas tree. The music wasn´t particularly great although James Brown was on when we entered. Shortly after 1am a live DJ and vocalist started. Your man has a fantastic voice but all the songs were sadly similar, and after a while I just couldn´t dance to that beat anymore. But my Swedish and Dutch friends are nuts and we amused ourselves dancing outrageously with each other and body-popping.

Of course this month is another tight month money-wise for us, so we shared beers rather than buying lots seperately. I was down to my last 4 euro when it was my turn to go up again. The guy at the bar remembered me (it comes from being so pale compared to the locals) and once again made sure he was the one who served me. I mangled my words as I do when I am nervous. "Unslurvanilasermnmnm," I think I said. He smiled and arched his eyebrows. "Two beers?" I grinned rakishly. "I only have enough for one," I replied, and then chancing my arm:"Two for 4 euro?" He laughed and shook his head, and returned with two beers. I think at that point I shouted "I love you!" I think he knew I was only partly joking. Jaysus, the Irish and their drinks. Of course, the girls were delighted by this new development. My only concern is for the next time I go there - I hope he doesn´t remember me.

Lately I have been going a bit mad at the locals here because the men have this horrible habit of commenting on you as you walk by. Add to that the fact that my most comfortable shoes have a steel tip on the heel and clack, and you will maybe begin to understand how or why I always draw comments everywhere I walk. Yes, it sounds like I am shockingly arrogant, but honestly it is the truth. In Barcelona I stand out because I am taller than average, whiter than normal, red-haired and blue-eyed, and my shoes make a noise that make people turn around. I know I should just buy new shoes but I can´t find any I like, and as my mother will attest, I will not wear shoes I don´t like. I prefer being bare-footed anyway, but it is so dirty that it´s not really an option.

While it can be nice sometimes to hear someone talk about you, I mostly find it extremely intimidating, and if caught on a bad day will abuse whoever it is without a care as to whether or not they understand english. Men are the worst, because if they hear shoes clicking not only do they stand and stare, but comment as though you are not there. Women don´t seem to mind, perhaps because many of them clack too. I dislike the noise, but i can´t find shoes here that I like that don´t cost an arm and a leg (harhar).

Tonight I can´t wait to go home, as I have tomorrow off and we have invited some people from work for dinner. I am looking forward to it, and to a few drinks. I have been very good lately and not smoked at all, and I don´t miss it. But then I only ever miss it when I am out and about. I am truly a social smoker.