A Catalonian Cantada

Even now that I am once again on my way, I feel the magnetism of the Mediterranean waves and the wonder a new eye downs in while beholding a truly magical city. Barcelona has taken a piece of my soul and I leave it with them gladly, I would never want to take it back.
The magic began for me when I met a sorceror in a Gothic style alley who was bringing wood and cloth to life! He danced and this beautiful little friend of his danced with him! She was so graceful and enchanting but so sad! She had no music! I felt the ache in her little heart and pointed to my fiddle questioningly as they moved. He nodded and soon the three of us were telling a story, each filling in the next word, the next leg of the journey.
That night I met another little friend of his, niccolo... Paganini! Well I had no idea Mr Paganini was such a charmer. While the dancer captivated the audience and lulled them into a trance, niccolo made them laugh and bounce. The children adored the little violinist and would often reward him with a slobbery kiss.. But there was one boy who was truly in love. He would not continue down the street with his parents, but insisted on dancing and dancing and dancing with little niccolo. He hugged and kissed him and told him secrets. Niccolo was first shy, and hid behind my friend Remo.. but Remo convinced him slowly that the boy meant no harm and the little violinist returned the hugs. Delighted, the boy took a picture of Niccolo and showed him his portrait on the camera as if it were just between them. I have never seen anything so adorable and wished as I played that I too could learn to bring such joy and mystery.
And to my delight and surprise my wish was granted the very next day. Elly and I decided as dutiful tourists, we simply had to endure the torture of the beach. So, begrudgingly, we basked in the glorious sun, we floated in the perfectly cool sea, we might have been dragged away to the chamber of bliss up in the clouds, but for the squawking primarily Indian drink sellers. Imagine, if you will a seagull that could only produce the sounds "mojito sangria cola lite!" Or "cold drinks, water, cold beer, coca cola!" (Always rt he exact same tone and melody, if you can call it that). Now this seagull had a family of similar sounding offspring and the whole flock of them, maybe 100, take to the tourists because sometimes they get a piece of shiny crispy bread. These drink sellers were also as shameless add seagulls, and waved their wares in your face, literally, as if this would make their feathers more attractive..
And to drown out this obnoxiousness I decided I might as well play my fiddle. I was enjoying myself so much I hardly noticed the thing scurrying towards me. It came closer and closer and finally surfaced above the sand maybe 15 feet away from me.. Staring intently.. I smiled and the sand monster scootched 5 feet closer. I thought to protect myself and my sister, I had better please the sandy beast and play something silly and quite intimidating. But he scootched closer and closer still until if I moved one inch forward, my scroll would had have hit his fierce nose! He laughed and after sitting and grinning through at least 3 tunes, he suddenly got up, spraying me with sand and I thought we were safe now.. But no! Instead he comes back with his whole tribe of mini sand monsters and now I had a dozen eyes all fixed on me. I laughed and they with me.. Soon they were kicking a ball around Elly and I, but my discoverer stayed put laughing and clapping at me and burying his cookies. I asked him his name and first he ran away, but then he came back and shouted'Raphael!' And started babbling at me in French. Did you know sand monsters spoke French? It seemed like an oxymoron, but there it was.. And I made the mistake of introducing him to the kazoo, upon which he was a virtuoso and accomplished my original mission (drowning out the seagulls) much better than I could have even dreamt, his mother, however, was not impressed not pleased. Oops. But I realized as she dragged him away that my wish had been granted. That this joy bringing is a gift I have, but it is simply so easy to forget since it feels so selfish as I play.
Which brings me to my last adventure- the best Irish jam I've ever been to. And of course for any city to properly command a visitor's love, it must be the locals that wield the sword. This adventure is not a crazy story, the musicians were not odd nor extraordinary, albeit of course very talented and fun. But the people in this jam, especially this beautiful fiddle player, opened up their hearts to me and allowed me to see the deep radiance of the city, the warmth, The color, the grace. It is because of these heralds that I will not only never forget Barcelona. But I must also return. For I need these compadres to help me tell this story, to dance out the next chapter, to see how the journey will continue.