Hitchikers, a motorcycle, and a legend

It’s been a crazy couple of weeks.

Pedestrians here have the right-of-way in crosswalks, so when I approached a crosswalk in my car and two young women were standing at the edge of the street, I slowed down to see if they were crossing. Instead, one of the women waved me down. It happens fairly often that tourists in the area ask for directions, so I pulled over and rolled down my window. One of the women asked me if I was going in the direction of Pals. Because I am so bad at directions, I told her I didn’t know. I was going in the direction of L’Escala to play Scrabble with some of the Expat ladies. She informed me that I would pass right by where they needed to go (about 15 minutes away). They were trying to meet up with friends because their car had broken down. I felt like I was being taken advantage of, because I’m nice, and possibly marked as a robbery victim or worse. The women looked VERY MUCH like the pair of hookers on Season 2 of White Lotus (photo below). The whole time we were driving, one of the women was chatting me up, I was certain this was so that I would let my guard down and would not expect it when she strangled me from the back seat. We arrived at their destination, they exited, I lived.

Last May when I saw an ad about Joan Manuel Serrat’s farewell tour and final concerts in Barcelona in December, I quickly went online to buy tickets. I bought the last two out of three available. They were seats with obstructed view and were not next to each other. A friend agreed to accompany me at the last minute. The only catch (in my mind) was that he would pick me up on his moto. I haven’t been on a motorcycle since 1976!

The concert was great. The stadium was full of fans eager to re-live their memories with Serrat’s music. He was touched. We were thrilled. I only cried once when he sang “Cantares,” one of his classics. The verses are lines of poetry by the well known Spanish poet Antonio Machado. I would try to translate it, but it would sound awkward in English compared to the beauty of it in Spanish.

The ad for Serrat’s last tour, El Vicio de Cantar (The Vice of Singing)…

This was the third of my three times ever riding a motorcycle. I closed my eyes and tried not to scream while I hung on tight for dear life!

A friend who saw this photo said I looked like the mushroom emoji! It’s true!

I spent Christmas and New Year’s with my friend in Rogny-Les-Sept-Ecluses, France, as I did last year. It was a low-key week full of holiday cheer, cooking, and watching movies, after some question as to whether the trip would be possible at all. The French rail workers went on strike, and my train scheduled for Christmas Eve was cancelled. Fearful that the return trip would also fall prey to the strike, I cancelled it and made a roundtrip plane reservation. The first leg of the trip was automatically refunded, but because the return trip was never cancelled by the French rail line, SNCF, my non-refundable ticket was not considered refundable. After various phone calls to SNCF with no resolution, I decided that my best chance of getting my 100€ back would be to visit an SNCF office and talk directly to an agent. With several hours to spare at the airport before my return flight to Barcelona, I went on a wild goose chase to two different SNCF offices at the airport. I even successfully explained the situation in French once, but to no avail. Yet! The comic moment came when I asked the information gentleman at the airport if there was a SNCF office nearby, and he said “you’re at the airport!, Madame!” No shit, Sherlock.

On New Year’s Eve, we opened the front and back doors at midnight to let the old year out and the new one in! Hope it worked! Maybe not…I have COVID AGAIN! I feel fine, it’s just a hassle at this point, so I’m lucky.

Here’s wishing everyone a happy and healthy new year!