Home of the Free

After a day straight out of Lonely Planet, I took my time starting the evening. I ventured into the common area around 22:00 and my friends, the lovely dutch girls, were no where to be found. I forgot to mention that they joined me for the free hostel breakfast this morning. It consisted of coffee, toast, several meats, cheeses and condiments for the bread, as well as nutella, jam, yogurt and muesli-- which is like granola. Spain serves a lovely tomato puree with their meals. This would have been delicious smeared on my toasted ham and cheese however I put a dollop on my yogurt only to realize that what looked like fresh strawberry jam was actually tomato. It is 2:56 in the morning. I am not up to talk about my breakfast experience. Instead, I wanted to share what happened this evening.

So as I said, I did not see anyone I knew downstairs so I ventured several blocks down the street to Placa del Sol where there are several bars/restaurants in a square, situated between several small cross streets. I choose a table at a little cafe, El Sol de Nit, nearest to a group of local Barcelonians jamming on three guitars, a bongo drum, a tambourine, a giant cardboard tube, and one girl was using her large silver ring to clang against her glass beer bottle. I had an awesome cheap meal of hummus and handmade squash ravioli with a truffle crema while listening to the makeshift band on the plaza bench next to me. After several glasses of liquid courage, I paid my bill and purchased two cans of beer from the Indian man selling them from a six-pack on the corner. I joined the band! I quickly became the tambourine player and, despite not knowing any of the words to the songs they were playing, oohhh'd and ahhhh'd my way to back up singer. It was completely surreal. What better, or more authentic, of an experience than to be singing and dancing with the locals! As they do in America, La Policia had to show up to ruin the time and disperse the crowd.

Upon returning back to the hostel, I stopped in the lobby to use the wifi and unwind from my epic jam sesh. What I encountered is why I must write about it now, while it is still fresh in my mind. From the bean bag I was lying on I overhead a young chinese boy speaking to an Isreali man. Ahhh the beauty of a hostel! Their conversation sounded interesting, so I listened. The Chinese boy talked about how he had met the first Chinese noble peace prize winner, who had come to his University for a lecture, and how it was very brave of the writer to vocalize against decisions made by the Chinese government. The Israeli man was a semi-celebrity in Israel, having competed on their version of Top Chef and coming in fifth place. My ears perked up about his passion for cooking and in a matter of minutes I too was in the conversation sharing recipes and photos of my culinary expertise. The Israeli man was a lawyer and business consultant and he looked like a bald Ali G. He shared that he was a soldier in the 2006 Lebanese war and operated a tank. He showed us, on his iPad, a picture of two tanks. The first one was on fire and the one behind it had chains on the front and smoke billowing from the protuding heavy machinery, indicating that it had clearly just fired at the enemy. He was the driver of the second tank and his friend was dying in the first one. He said everyone between the ages of 19-21 in Israel wanted to participate in the war. His friend was killed.

Somehow the conversation of war turned into a polite interrogation as to why I was in Europe. I explained my employment situation and my lifelong desire to travel. The Chinese boy did not understand. He said that at my age, because I am super old and all, I should know what I want to do and have moved a level up in my job-- or that I should be married with children. He said that it was bad to be in an exploratory state of indecision. He said that he was told that by the age of 30 all these life decisions should set and being worked on. At the same time, literally the same time, the Isreali and I asked, "Who says?" This is the difference between a country being free or not. America is a free country ( please don't give me any shit about the current gun laws being discussed-- in the grand scheme of things, we are still a free country). China tells there people how many kids to have for god sakes. The Israeli and I both agreed that when we are extremely old we want to be able to look in the mirror and give ourselves a thumbs up rather than regret not fulfilling the dreams of our youth. I take my freedom for granted. I live in a country where I am encouraged to follow my heart and accomplish my dreams. I do what I want! I am American. I am free.