And it does feel like it was all a dream...


I'm just going to say it: I miss socialism. I stumbled upon this idea in conversation, and it's been in and out of my mind ever since. It's as though the more time grows between me and Spain, the easier it is to understand what I miss about that life. And here is the big one: I miss socialism. In a choice between greed and laziness, Spain chose laziness. Not better for business, but better for life. (America chose greed. Better for business, of course.) I know we have better hospitals and better doctors and better services, but there is life lost in all this betterness. There was a slowness to life in Barcelona that forced me to match its pace, and now I'm a bit frazzled at the way life in American seems to go at a sprint.

And in a broader sense I miss Barcelona - and really all of Spain - with an intensity that hurts sometimes, because it's made up of irony and growth and regret and change and experience and joy. I miss it twelve months' worth. I feel a little bit wrecked for American life, for Southern Californian life, for San Diegan life. I need cafes and the metro, I need to hear Castellano and the rest of Europe's languages, I need to feel lost in the crowd and insignificant....

And lastly, there have been these moments... when life seems to be playing her best card and I feel like I'm the only one who gets to see it... what are the chances that I'd be there at just the right moment? When will I ever go to a Danish Christmas party again, or have a house party at David's beach house in Sitges, or see the sun settle down on the water in Venice, or watch the Eiffel tower sparkle at midnight, or be with all of Barcelona on the beach at night for Sant Joan...I'm starving these days.