Just A Passerby

While living in Barcelona I went on a road trip with two other American ball players. In 7 days we went down and around the Iberian Peninsula, hitting 6 cities across 3 countries. Lots can be told about the trip, much of which would unravel into stories of their own. As you can imagine on a trip like this (lots of places, little time) the days are pretty action packed. However, it is maybe the least memorable day of the trip that led to one of the more memorable scenarios of my time in Spain. On day 4 we stopped in Cadiz, an old city in the southwest of Spain that feels like it’s made entirely of cobblestone. Also the city where I met Giulia.

Our night in Cadiz wasn’t relatively noteworthy, and it would probably be lost somewhere deep in my memory if it wasn’t for the fact that this is where I met Giulia. It was a simple night, one in which we went from little Spanish bar to little Spanish bar. In one of these bars I spotted a girl sitting in a large window cutout having a drink with herself. She was cute, petite, wore those baggy yogi pants, and sat there in an attractive manner with her legs kicked out. I was about it. Now I don’t remember how we began talking (because god knows I’m terrible at approaching girls, moreso younger me), but we do. It turns out Giulia spoke British english because she spent many years studying there. However, she was Spanish and coincidentally was also currently living in Barcelona, she just so happened to be in Cadiz for some travel. The conversation continued and it turned into Giulia spending the night with us going for location to location. By night’s end we exchange numbers, the idea of one day meeting up in Barcelona, and nothing more before we go our own separate ways. The next morning my road trip with the guys continued on to Lisbon (beautiful place).

Move forward a couple of weeks and we are both back in Barcelona. I exchange a few texts with Giulia and we decide to meet up that night for some drinks. She comes over to my place and we head out to Placa Del Sol, a popular plaza where (mainly) locals sit on the floor with drinks they brought themselves (typical Spanish shit). We drink, chat, drink & chat some more, and eventually start making out while sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor. Time eventually caught up to us and it was time to move. Living two blocks away we decided that the best idea was to go back to my place. After a drink in the living room (and probably a bowl) we make our way to my small room.

For details sake, I must note we were in the middle of a very hot summer and my apartment did not have an air conditioning system, nor did I even have a simple fan, so imagine all of this happening while sweating profusely the entire time. Anyways, we end up pretzeling in bed for a while before eventually having sex. I say eventually because she was a bit hesitant. She specifically asked before we began if we would see each other again, to which I genuinely and enthusiastically (I think) replied of course! We proceeded as the two consenting semi adults that we were, and that was that. Or so I thought.

Now this is where I feel the need to clarify some things. To this point in my young sexual life I had followed up with every girl that was on the short list of girls that took it further than a middle school make out with me. I never thought of myself as being too good to at least be respectful. After all, it’s not that hard to send a text. Again, or so I thought.

It was years ago, so I can’t recall exactly, but we might have exchanged a text a two about getting home safely and following up later to meet up again. Honestly, I don’t know, but I would like to make myself believe that we did in order to feel better about it. But from there, even if true, what I know for certain is that I did not text her thereafter. I knew I thought about it during that time, about how I meant to text her. I’m even almost certain that I told my best friend about it. But then his cousin showed up to visit from back home. Then at the last minute we decided to go to Pamplona for San Fermin. Then I was drinking and dancing all night in an all white outfit (if that matters) until 9 a.m. back to back nights. On top of that I was contemplating running away from some potentially deadly bulls. Yeah sending a text would be simple, but I was neither here nor there. I was at San Fermin.

Eventually things cooled off and I gained a grip of reality again while back in Barcelona. It was then, on another hot mediterranean summer morning, that I walked out of my room to find a large ball, of what I thought was initially trash, on the living room floor. It was odd because I knew it wasn’t there before, but I concluded that it must have come through the large living room window that remained open all night because of the heat. I lived on the second floor that was relatively high so nobody was climbing in, but they could definitely throw something in. After a close look at the ball of trash it turned out to be a very large paper ball that was the result of someone making it. It was crumbled paper wrapped in paper after paper. Now at the size of a melon, with a decent weight behind it, it had a postcard wrapped around part of its outer edge which was being held on by a couple of rubber bands that kept the entire thing together. It was really a well thought out concoction.

At this point I call out my best friend living with me to see this thing. He confirms it wasn’t there before. I dissemble the creation and take a closer look at the postcard. The front is of a black and white photo of the Arc de Triomf in Barcelona, and within the arch itself was a man that was blurry as a result of walking by quickly with the long exposure. I turned it around and to my surprise I found a message. It read:

“Que pena que eres como el hombre en la foto, solamente un pasajero.” -Giulia

And now in english, “Too bad you’re like the man in the photo, just a passerby.” -Giulia

I was immediately in disbelief about the entire thing. Did she really do that? How fucked up am I? What time did she come by and how many tries did it take her to successfully throw it through the window?

Aloud I thought damn, I should have text her, to which my friend replied, “Well, it’s too late now.”