Hello! I’m Walther, this is Peregrino, and you’re about to read essay #12 of “40 Before 40,” a memoir I intend to finish before I enter midlife. A few other pieces that people have enjoyed are “Just Obese,” “On Death and Loss,” and “On Repetition.” The rest of the essays can be found here.
In “Tampere to Barcelona,” I wrote about the events that happened to get from point A to point B. This essay picks up right where that one ended. I hope you enjoy it, and don’t forget to subscribe!
Barcelona
After Flore rescued me, we walked toward Grace’s apartment. Grace was in the middle of a year-long study abroad program and would spend the Christmas break in Barcelona. Flore and Grace have been friends since high school in Pachuca, Hidalgo in Mexico, and she opened her home to strangers. Grace’s apartment was L shaped, with a big dining space and living room right as you entered the front door. Then the two bedrooms and bathrooms, followed by the kitchen and laundry room toward the back. There were a dozen people in this two-bedroom apartment. A couple of friends from Pachuca and Flore’s Chilean friends he met in Turin. It was a full house.2
I slept in the laundry room partly because I got there last but mainly because of my sleep apnea. I snored so loud that it was decided I should stay in the room farthest from the rest of the people. Flore knew this because I would crash at his place regularly. It wasn't good. How do I know it was bad? Because Flore recorded my snoring and showed it to me. In these videos, he would introduce me as “The Beast” and act like he was going into a lair to learn more about my sleeping habits. He even made a small documentary of all the clips he took during this trip. In one of the scenes, he used his scarf as a whip. Fun times.
One time, while I was traveling with other students in Latvia, we booked several beds in a hostel. People cast lots to see who would be in the room where I would sleep. The next morning I was told that another guest, who had a very light sleep, complained to the hostel’s front desk. The front desk person and the guest went over to the room where I was sleeping; they were unsuccessful in waking me up and eventually moved the angry guest to a different room.
The worst part is I also wasn’t getting a good night’s sleep! When you have sleep apnea, you stop breathing for a few seconds, which wakes you up momentarily, and then you’re back asleep. This happens multiple times through the night, which makes it very difficult to get into a deep sleep where our bodies truly rest. So, I was falling asleep all day, everywhere. Flore would catch me falling asleep every single time. He has footage of me falling asleep all over Europe.
Zaragoza
On Christmas Eve, Grace cooked a big dinner, and we all sat down and broke bread as a big international family. We went to midnight Mass in the side chapel of La Sagrada Familia, which I understood very little of since everything was in Català, vastly different from Spanish.
While I was studying in Finland, I made friends with a bunch of Spanish people from Zaragoza. They were all very proud of their hometown and insisted I visit. Javi offered to host me for the night, so two days before Christmas, I took the train from Barcelona to Zaragoza. Javi and his dad met me at the train station and took me to their apartment. It was a cold and damp day in December, the kind of cold that you can feel in your bones.
Javi’s family has been one of the most hospitable people ever. Javi, his parents, grandma, and siblings all lived together. I remember Javi’s mom being extra attentive and an excellent host. They immediately brought a spread of cheeses, jamón serrano, and olives. After the meal, Javi’s mom handed me a cup of coffee and said a line that was engraved in my brain; she said, “Ya verás como te templa el alma,” which translates as “You’ll see how it tempers your soul.” And temper my soul it did.
That afternoon we met with the rest of the gang and visited the Cathedral-Basilica of Our Lady of the Pillar. I wasn’t practicing the faith then, so the significance of this place was lost on me. I now know that St. James was preaching in Spain around AD 40, and Our Lady appeared to him while she was still alive in Jerusalem, which technically would be considered bilocation. A wooden image commemorating the apparition is enshrined in this Church. Outside the Church, they had a Belén, which is what people call a nativity scene in Spain. They went all out; there were real animals and actors, and they took a big portion of the plaza outside.
At night we went out for tapas, one of the things I miss the most about Spain. If you don’t know what going out for tapas means, imagine you are going bar crawling, but with each drink, you get a small plate of food. You could get something simple like mixed olives or a few slices of manchego cheese to something a bit more elaborate like a slice of bread with jamón serrano or chorizo on it, to cooked meals like tortilla de patata, croquetas, and fried calamari.
The next day, I eavesdropped on Javi’s grandma, discussing how she couldn’t sleep all night because of my snoring. “The Beast” had claimed another victim. I felt so bad. Hopefully, she took a nap that afternoon after I left.
London
The day after Christmas, the Chilean and Mexican committees flew to London. We did all the touristy stuff, took pictures with Big Ben, Tower Bridge, and London Bridge, got on the London Eye, rode the tube, and I giggled when we heard the PA system say: “Mind the gap.” Hearing it in real life was akin to being star-struck for me.
While walking around Piccadilly Circus, at London’s West End—UK’s Broadway—, we saw a marquee for “Chicago” outside the Adelphi theater. This was two years after the movie with Renée Zellweger, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and Richard Gere came out. I talked two of the Chileans into getting tickets for that night. They had it coming.
We stayed in a hostel with a club on the ground floor, so my snoring wasn’t everyone’s first concern.
Paris
I wish I had watched Amelie before I visited Paris. After I watched it, I recognized the carousel at the bottom of the stairs that led to The Basilica of Sacré-Cœur de Montmartre. I was so out of shape for that many stairs, and I felt dumb once I reached that top, finding out there was a funicular I could’ve taken. Still, the Church was beautiful, as well as the views.
I remember eating McDonald’s in every European country I visited, and I have to say, the quality was consistent across the board. I was starting to get homesick, and a döner kebab place with a spicy chili paste served as a good substitute.
We walked a lot. We went from Arc de Triomphe to Champs-Élysées to the Eiffel Tower, stopping to take pictures every five minutes. The views from the top of the Eiffel Tower were amazing. The crepe I had once we were back on the ground was pretty good too. You can’t beat culture that you can taste.
We took advantage of the student discount at The Louvre, and to be honest, we made a beeline to see The Venus de Milo and The Mona Lisa and called it a day. It’s difficult to set a good pace in a museum where each individual has their priorities. Some like to read every single thing on those little plaques. Others want to browse and only pay attention to those pieces that catch their attention. The second group is usually the one waiting outside for the first group.
We spent New Year’s Eve at Trocadero, across the street from the Eiffel Tower. The place started getting crowded until a sea of people engulfed us. It felt like everyone in Paris was outside. I don’t remember what we used as a cooler, but we were equipped with wine and beer to welcome the new year. The countdown started flashing on the tower, three, two, one...Happy New Year 2005! The biggest chorus I’ve ever seen began singing the French version of Auld Lang Syne. Suddenly, the sky lit up with a full hour of fireworks.
I remember longing for someone to hold and kiss that New Year’s Eve. I would have to wait a few more years for Diana to come into my life. But then, I was with friends, living our best life.
Flore, the crew, and I parted ways at Gare du Nord. They were heading to Brugge, and I was going home. I just needed to get my bags and get to the airport. Où est le consigne a bagage?
Before you go
I have some questions for you.
Youth hostel or your own hotel room?
Who’s been the most hospitable to you?
Have you had a cup of coffee that tempered your soul?
Favorite tapas, go.
Crepes. Sweet or savory?
1. Own hotel room, or room in a shared house/hostel. Ya girl is too much of an introvert to be anywhere near people at the end of the day. Even at home. Don't come near me after like 8pm.
3. We love our little Catholic-owned coffee roastery (Zelie Beans Coffee) and Joseph's decaf has been my go-to after the girls go to bed!
5. Surprisingly, savory! We've got a place here in town that does a mean feta and caramelized onion crepe with a lil pesto sauce... mmmmmmmm...
My own hotel room. Being a tourist in these places, I need space to decompress.
I've spent a little time in Granada, Spain and the Spanish were wonderful hosts. I felt at home there.
Absolutely have had coffee that tempered my soul although I became great friends with the owner of a coffee shop while in college so it was all about "who you know."
Favorite tapas had to be the fish with the side of "soured cabbage." So fish and sauerkraut. Being in Granada, the fish were caught in the Mediterranean and served to us the same day. Or so they told us..
I can go either way for crepes although I would probably lean toward a sweet preference.