Campeones! Campeones!

The combination of football with politics, I have to admit, is something I find very interesting. Mostly because I think that it is difficult to separate the two, even more because I think that you really shouldn't. But being in Barcelona for only three months and a half, I have come to find this over-identification of the city's pride with a football team all a little disturbing. I mean, it could have happened to anybody if he were to watch just a couple of Barca games on the catalan TV! It doesn't take you that much to notice that players with an amazing lack of skill tend to win the admiration of the funs through their catalan origins and their even more catalan statements in the local press. And you would curiously osberve the way you very rarely have a chance to see a replay of a goal scored by the opposing team (unless of course it a totally unimportant last minute consolation).

In general you would soon get the feeling that, when it comes to FC Barcelona, objectivity as a notion becomes a little evanescent!

But honestly, not being a sterilized-romantic fun, I would not have cared a bit about all these things, if only I could share the people's feelings about Barca. I just can't. Because deep inside and although I love this city and its people, I would like to feel that I am living in Spain and not in another country somewhere between Spain and France, whose inhabitants use the words "Iberian Peninsula" with ever decreasing frequency. And although I love to connect football with politics when I like the politics behind it, I hate it when it happens with politics I disagree with.

So, no, for those who are still wondering, I did not enjoy yesterday's triumph, although from the fun's point of view Barca deserved to win this cup more than anyone.

I like the catalan people and I also like their "pride", FC Barcelona with its galaxy of stars and their fascinating football. I also feel I owe something to the country that has welcomed me so warmly since last January and I consider that country to be Spain. So I would really, really love it if the Spanish national team's performances in the upcoming World Cup would make us all, foreigners living here, catalan-spanish and non-catalan-spanish meet at Canaletas and celebrate together, with no hard feelings whatsoever.

Birthdays

Distance makes some things harder than you could possibly imagine. The ability to remember people, names, dates, fades, even for those that have always been proud of their own like myself. It sinks into a passive limbo from which it is only occasionally rescued by otherwise unimportant events such as a song that a radio dj put on at the right moment or a photo that slided in the laptop's screensaver just on time.

But it is exaclty then, when out of the blue, a simple thing sets off an avalanche of memories...

Then you drift away into this complete universe. Warm spring afternoons listening to Morissey, or Pulp, trying to put your Organic Chemistry notes in order, while you could not stop thinking of a cold beer on a terrace, or warm summer nights when after a couple of ouzo bottles you would look down at these stairs with fear. You can still smell the lousy food at the faculty's cafeteria, mixed with the salty breeze that blew from the sea on a freezing February carnival night.

Then a birthday party, begginings of May, waiting for the summer holidays like every year. Then another one, few days before the kick off of another world cup, like this year.

Longer days, more drinks, louder laughters.

You lift your head up, dizzy, comparing this sudden burst of rapid access memory that cannot be compared to any computer you have ever used. You feel happy, that you still remember. You feel lucky, that you have such good things to remember. You feel optimistic, because you keep making moments worth it.

It doesn't have to be to obvious. Friendships that last, can stay well hidden in the back of our heads.
Their memories, well protected by the passing of time and the consecutive layers of trivial information, (science theories soon to become obsolete, football players that will prove fakes, e-mail addresses and pin numbers), will always be there.

This goes out for Errika who has her birthday today. And to Patra, where many of us have spent such a good time, although I only rarely realize it.

Feliz cumpleaños chica!
Happy Birthday!