PctrWrld

Book and Film will follow.



The Fourteenth of July 2004

Barcelona here I come. The taxi I ordered the day before arrives at 4:30 a.m. with a muffled honk. Packed and ready I kiss my apartment goodbye for a fortnight. The light feels lovely after a short but dreamful sleep. An early morning summer drizzle caresses my cheeks as I lock the door behind me. The driver is from Sofia, Bulgaria and I enjoy his choice of music. The shining wet streets are almost empty at this hour. Fifteen minutes and twelve euros later I enter the Central Station hall already buzzing with the strange sleepless life of travelers. The smell of fast food, dirty wet clothes and cheap aftershave cocktails in the summer morning air. My train leaves from platform 12 to Schiphol airport. Lift of at 6:15 for a planned touch down at 7:50. I think of Plaça de Catalunya.

The fat lady to my left excuses her existence by confessing to be an Egyptian Christian. Somehow I always have a window seat. She pats me on the knee after I meticulously explain the video service system to her. To my annoyance she complies by choosing a Tom and Jerry movie. Looking down I see we are currently over Paris and I simply know that most French haven’t woken up to their national holiday yet. For the first time I realize I am on a mission. I am looking forward to meeting Lumiere and possibly Jaume this afternoon. So much to tell.