Lo Siento! Pardona! Sorry!....sorry

Ok, so I have been the worst bloggest in the blog history of blogging. So many stories have gone untold, so many pictures unposted, so much to say. Believe it or not I actually go have way through an entry the other day with many pictures and fun, but then the computer committed internet-suicide and I lost it all and became discouraged...what can ya do?

But since this is a historic day in my Barcelona adventure I thought I would update. This weekend was the first glorious adventure of sailing in Barcelona. I got an invite from Marc Tio, my boss' son, to go with him and some friends in the regatta this weekend and I jumped at the opportunity. Although I was a little nervous on Friday night when I got another call telling me Marc would not be making the regatta because he had wrecked his moto (motorcycle, but don't worry he is fine, just a few bumps and bruises, he didn't even really wreck it from what I understand, just kinda laid it down...while driving, bad idea). So that means the next day I'm off to go sailing with 4 Spanish folk I've never met and have no idea if any of them speak English or anything. But I'm still excited to actually do something new and exciting with my weekend so Friday night I have a quiet evening at home with frozen pizza and cold beer (good pregame food right?) and watch Gladiator till I fall asleep in the recliner chair.

Wake up bright and early on Saturday (not even that early really I don't have to be there till 11:30 but I go ahead and get up before 9 to be sure I get there on time) and have a nice stroll through Premia which was very nice. I had never really seen the early morning ritual of Premia when I wasn't coming home from a long night out so it was nice to appreciate all the bakeries and markets and what not loading up and preparing their shops and everything. I made it down to the marina in Barcelona plenty early and grabbed some coffee and a bocata de tortilla for breakfast and sat out and enjoyed the morning air.

After breakfast I wondered found the club nautica and called up the number I had been given for Ruben, who answers in Spanish and quickly passes the phone off when I speak in English (oops). So I get some directions to the boat and they see me and wave me down. Everyone introduces themselves in English so I go with that and try to remember names (which I will continue to try to remember for the next 48 hrs). They speak varying degrees of English but its early and we're just setting up the boat so there isn't much talking really so I awkwardly try to remember how to help and basically spend 20 mins standing and trying not to get in anyone's way while I listen to them chatter in Spanish and try to catch a few words here and there.

After grabbing some bocatas for lunch we head out and I realize I left important articles of clothing in my bag which got put in Peli's car...oops. So I spend the day as the guy most likely to be named "first-time-on-a-boat-guy", why would I be named that you may ask. Because I was wearing the "first-time-on-a-boat-guy" uniform which means I did a regatta in jeans....poor form, especially on a Beneteu 25 in chilly, wavy weather. Anyway, I’m reeeeeaally rusty for sailing in general and much more so for a boat that isn’t a dinging, although this boat isn’t much bigger. So I spend the whole day trying very hard not to kill myself, fall off, or forget everything I ever knew about sailing, all while listening to high-speed Spanish nautical speak. However it turns out you can pick up these terms pretty quick because, well they are used in the same way in any language I would think. For those of you reading how do a bit of sailing yourself, see if you can figure out what “Racha” means in the fallowing: “Racha en cinco, quarto, tres, dos, uno, entre! Hike! Hike! Hike!” If you guessed “Puff” you win, and you figured it out a day faster than me! J

I’m in charge of pit, which is one of those things where you spend about an hour as weight on the rail, and just keeping out of the way, and then have moments of frantic sail changing to remind you that yes you are in a race and must actively participate. I spend most of the day listing to Peli and “doing like I do, we must be as one person.” He is a bit of a character, but a familiar one at any yacht club in the world. Funny guy, very friendly, but also very serious about what he is doing while he runs around the boat and yells out wind up-dates and suggestions to the skipper. Also one of those guys who is just a little rough around the edges, but in a way that makes you like him and trust him…just not with your little sister, and probably not as the designated driver. So I listen to him, and try to keep everything straight knowing that if I do screw up he is gonna tell me never to do that again, but give me a high five anyway.

Our skipper (Ruben) is a really nice guy, a little quieter than some of the others, but friendly despite the language barrier between us. And he’s a good sailor and has 2 really good starts the first day and we take a first and a second…I’m not sure how that second happened exactly because the wind was kinda dieing and I was sent below for an upwind leg to keep more weight low in the boat. I do know however that there was a tacking duel involved because I went through the washing machine down there and have a few bumps on the head to prove it.

On the way in I finally find a comfortable way to sit on all my bruises and have a little chat with Mitchie (not sure how he would spell it) who is doing tactics and main on the boat and is a bit older than the rest of us. Another nice guy and we go through the normal list of question and answer about where I’m from and what I’m doing here and all that.

We have the boat completely derigged by the time we hit the dock on account that we have to wait for the bridge to open up into the harbor (I was interested to learn it opens every half hour all day regardless of if there are boats around). We change real quick (although I still have my wet jeans since it’s all I brought) and head to the yacht club bar (as is sailing custom) It’s just about 5 pm when we get in there and the whole regatta is hanging out having the same post-race chats as in any yacht club….just in high-speed Spanish that I can’t understand to save may life. But the atmosphere is still very entertaining and I note a few universal yacht club characters, like the guy who is way too comfortable in the bar and runs behind it when the bartender isn’t there to poor a free round for everyone in there. The bartender by the way (and this is pretty uncharacteristic of some yacht club bars back home) gets very irritated by this and keeps running by to tell people to buzz him when they want a beer. This is never gonna happen, there are too many people and he is apparently too bust with other things to man the bar fulltime.

So the after race drink drags on for hours most of which I spend quietly trying to pick up on the conversation but the more beers get passed out the worse I am and understanding and the faster everyone is talking so I spend a few hours pretty much silent and occasionally have a very short exchange with one of the guys from the boat or a girl from the loft that was racing. Eventually, maybe around 8, the bar kinda clears out till its just two guys from my boat (Peli, and Carlos) and 2 North Sails reps, Louis and a girl that I never actually got introduced too, but she is pretty funny and spent some time in the states and speaks English pretty well. In fact after about 2 hours of not talking someone random asks me something in English and it turns out the whole bar, even the old guy in the corner speaks English…who knew. And they asked me about my Spanish and told me to just try a bit, so I had a short conversation with unnamed girl about difference in the seriousness of language classes between the states and here, to which Peli let out an “Ostia” (pseudo-cuss word that is kinda hard to explain) and slaps me for not speaking Spanish on the boat all day and “letting them think I didn’t speak any” which I hadn’t done purposefully, but I guess it worked out that way. Anyway, I guess that teaches me to find something to talk about and work on it.

The evening gets almost surreal when about an hour later, we are all standing around Louis at a piano in the club singing old American songs that they all know the words too and I only recognize the chorus. Louis is actually really good on the piano and a decent singer so this goes on for a good hour and half or more, with random people still at the club joining in. A very fun time with drinks all around but eventually we all kind of realize we have been at the bar for like 5 hours and no one has eaten dinner so we head to girl-I-don’t-remember-her-name’s house and order tele-pizza which is better than I remember it but I’m starving so I don’t really care. We hang out there for awhile but there has been much beer drinking and at this point I understand no Spanish and realize if I don’t get on a train soon I’m sleeping in slightly damp jeans on this girls couch. They have all decided to go somewhere else but I get dropped off at Placa de Catalunya where the machine rips my ten euro bill in half, and I have only 2 euros in change instead of the 2.05 they raised it too so I have to force my way through the little barrier and run to the train as the doors close on the last train to Premia at 1:45 am…a fitting end to a great first day ever of sailing in Barcelona.

Today we had to be there a little earlier and I’m paranoid my late night will have me moving slow so I set my alarm early but wake up feeling great after a worrying premature wake up call of feeling sick. I make it to Las Ramblas with about an hour to go so I sit down and half some coffee and a breakfast sandwich at a place I now like and will visit again even though the service is terrible. I got to the boat a little early and attempted to start setting up but wasn’t sure which sails they were planning on using so abandon the effort to go hang out on the terrace of the club and wait for everyone else to stagger in. Peli and Carlos are indeed late, but in good spirits and feeling fine after their night so we hop on the boat and head out for day two. Today didn’t go as well as yesterday however. Ruben wasn’t starting as well and we had one just bad start and one over-early but were able to turn them both into second places which is what we ended up in overall at the end. I had a few screw ups myself in not prepping the jib halyard which was a knot when we tried to drop the jib twice in a row which I was told was “not possible to happen two times, one time maybe, but not two” by Peli before my ceremonial high five to keep moral up.

So all and all a great weekend, that ended in having lunch/dinner at the club which was hugely expensive but very very good. The first true steak I’ve had here along with Spanish-style of doing appetizers and deserts which where all amazing and coffee at the end and drinks throughout. The bill was a humbling 37 euros a person but I was pretty content to have such a good meal at the end of a good weekend.

And now I have made my way back home to a house full of French folk (Mathew has friends in town), but a glass of wine and some guitar hero later and we’re all friends and I even managed to get a blog written! PS: only the French would drink wine while playing guitar hero, but who am I to judge.

So to anyone who may still be checking this from time to time, enjoy the weekend update and I will be working on the photo update so expect that soon…as in not months away. It shall include Barcelona world race, Norway, Skiing, and anything else I can find to put in there…then I’ll try to get back on track with this whole blogging of Barcelona thing.

Hasta luego!!!!