Live From... The Life and Times of A Wannabe Baller: Raw Pig Parts

The holiday vacationing continued with a train trip from Munich to Paris en route to Barcelona in the wee morning hours of December 27th. After hangin’ out at the train station from midnight to three AM (during which my aforementioned German convo with a drunk Britney Spears fan took place), we saddled up for our journey across The German’s motherland back to France.

We finally arrived in Paris at 10 AM and were feeling great. “Hey everyone! Come and see how good I look!” A quote was never so fitting. We were also tired and hungry but lucky for us, only had 9 hours to kill before our flight to Barcelona. Also lucky for me, the high quality bag I packed all my goods in decided to fall apart piece by piece such that by the time we arrived in Paris, the extendable handle had long since lost a screw and wouldn’t come out of its home, I had only one wheel and one strap. Don’t worry though, the other wheel and strap would fly off at untimely moments before the trip was through, leaving me to carry the bag in both arms as if it were a small child rather than filled with dirty socks.

Anyway, it was cold and the wind was angry that day so we sought refuge in a mall where I promptly fell asleep for a couple more hours sitting totally upright… My neck never felt so good. We took our luxurious RyanAir flight (I’ll not go into further detail but I know y’all out there that are familiar are shaking your heads right now) and finally arrived in Barcelona a full 24 hours after we left Munich.

The next few days were a delight. It’s hard for me to use that phrase seriously but in the spirit of a new 2009 (as opposed to an old one…?) I’m trying to do better with the cynicism. Update: It’s been a week and I’m already struggling. I digress.

An American friend of ours – also known as Matthias - decided to make a pilgrimage to the continent of his forefathers and met up with us in the citay so it was three’s company for the rest of the trip.

The man, the legend.

The next 4 days consisted of shopping, old buildings, a lot of walking, and a bit too much fast food in the form of kebab, aka delicious spiced meat of the gods. We saw the requisite sights; Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia, Catedral de Barcelona, Las Ramblas, etc. and it was in a market at the the latter that I witnessed my first pig head just chillin’ for sale, complete with eyelashes still attached. And a bargain at only 4 Euros! Just the perfect belated Christmas gift I was looking for. There were also a plethora of cured pig thighs hanging about, also with hoof intact, in case you wanted to take your leg for a brisk jaunt trip the block before digging in. I was tempted.

Smile and some pig heads smile with you.

New year’s eve in Barca was interesting. We went for dinner and were enjoying a lovely meal when we remembered they have a tradition where you’re supposed to eat 12 grapes, one at each stroke of midnight, to represent good luck in each month of the new year. Or the old year. Crap I forget. But we definitely missed the boat on the first half-dozen strokes of the clock (or in our case, waiter banging a pot lid. Stay classy Barcelona.) and were forced to shove the grapes in 3 at a time to get ‘em all in in time. That’s tougher than it sounds when there are seeds involved. Anyway, I’m not sure if that’s a bad omen for those months in the coming year or a representation of 2008… but either way I’ve been a little on-edge since. Right right right, now I remember why I don’t let fruit decide my fate.

After dinner and the grapes incident we decided to walk down Las Ramblas which can only be described as a complete gong show. From what I understand, there are no laws against public intoxication or consumption so the Spanish just cut loose and wander the streets in droves. The specific street they frequent is Las Ramblas and the ground was literally wet all over with alcohol… It’s raining wine! Hallelujah! I was offered drugs by at least 8 shady lookin’ fellas and only tried a couple different varieties of Spanish Charlie before deciding it doesn’t compare with the pure coke on the streets back in my ‘hood. Just kidding mom. It was enlightening though and for the first time in my life I actually felt somewhat unsafe (I tend to delusionally believe people aren’t gonna eff with a 6’+ giant. There are some perks to being this large & in charge after all) and was pretty glad to have The German & Matt as wingmen. Fortunately they had bought the same black wool coat and aviators - their rugged individualism had kicked in – so they looked like bodyguards and I was just giving them some work.

The German and Leroy were sleeping soundly when I peaced out the next morning at 7:30 AM since they stayed in Spain for a couple more days to see the FC Barcelona game on the 3rd. The early morning New Year’s Day wakeup was the highlight of the trip but I had to catch a train back to Albi to get home for training on the 2nd. Someone has to work around here.

And that pretty much sums it up. Hope you all had a good one. Here’s to a solid 2009.

Breakin' it down