La mano loca

The last time I saw the lithe, bra-less waif was nearly 8 months ago, when I first arrived in Barcelona. She gave me an amazing haircut. Promising it would be wearable, telling me how good a hairstylist she was while sucking at her somewhat rust-colored teeth, and humming to herself. I love la mano loca, my raval-ian/parisian hair doctor who today, after massaging lemony hydration infusions into my hair and trimming out the long beast its become, wrote down a prescription for a cd i should check out, and the name of a hairdresser in paris for when I move there. I am keeping the hair I've grown out, cultivating a kind of full bodied 70s superhero coif..Served me well today, when another mano loco (a boy of about 16) came up very close behind me. I turned abruptly around to see the snakeskin style maroon wallet my sister had gifted me fall to the floor of the metro station and this boy quickly lay his foot on top of it, as though it weren't there. "Get of my s#%&!, you f*^%$ing a#$#%h&*%!", I shouted in his face pushed him off my wallet and kicked him in his a&*! He stumbled around, pretending he couldn't speak any language and looking at me blankly. Pick-pocketry is a highly common occurence in Barcelona. So much so that there are informational cartoons about it broadcast throughout the metro stations and regular advisories about it on the trains, at markets, everywhere. This is the second attempt on my belongings that I've foiled..a most Wonderwomany satisfaction!
Still processing Brezinzka and not really having time to do so properly. Was asked to act in a short surrealist film this past weekend in Poble Sec. A friend of a friend, Vicky, whose from Costa Rica, asked me to come wearing a bright pink dress and anything else pink I might have, and film a scene with another girl dressed in pink where we stare at our reflections in a lit-up mirror and become progressively more robot like as we stroke our own hair, say we want the best, and a girl holding a floating illuminated purple balloon dances behind us and says "Mira! Mi globo" (Look at my ball!). It was an excellent and, due to standing before several lightbulbs for nearly two hours, a somewhat sweaty Saturday afternoon. I am happy for the experience, and am already missing Barcelona as Spring and Summer blend together..the flowering trees shed white petals on the roads, and green parakeets flirt over the gothic hospital that's across my balcony.
Before I went to Poland, the day before actually, I saw that long lines of folks were waiting outside Hospital Sant Pau, the aforementioned gothic hospital. I came out to do an errand, and a man waiting in the line told me that entering the hostpital was free today..It is another modernist masterpiece, designed by the same architect who created the Palau de Musica. So I stood in line..went in to the modernist masterpiece with intricate tiled frescoes of flowers and peacock feathers. Flying buttresses shaped like tree branches that reached to the ceiling..Stainglass skylights..It's still in the process of being reconstructed...the hospital has a lovely center courtyard lined with orange trees, lilac bushes, honeysuckle plants...it smelled of heaven's fruit salad..puppet shows retelling, in Catalan, the history of the hospital's construction entertained the children. I couldn't believe it when i left the courtyard, crossed the street, and was back in my apartment, staring at the neighboring architectural masterpiece like an old friend who'd opened up to me for the first time. How can I live here? How do I leave?