.Well dear readers, I am back. I flew home from Greece the eighteenth of July and have spent the past two months battling jet lag, a terrible cold and the deep culture shock I always feel when I return to Canada after a long absence. Now though I am back and I think my feet are almost on the ground and my Canadian self is slowly coming to fore as my conversation gets peppered with more “EH’S” and “SO SORRY’S ”and I am more and more wrapped up in my “Canadian Modesty flag” I am getting ready to blog again. Before I continue, some of you lovely readers admitted to being confused because the blogs are not in chronological order. The explanation is though I wrote the blogs at the right time I was not able to post them in the right order, for various reasons. Several of my blogs were also written in Greece not on my computer but my son’s computer and it was quite a challenge for this “learning how to type” typist especially as the directions were in Greek especially the spell check. Hence the many errors.
This is the first blog I wrote on the second day in Barcelona, but I found it too close to the bone and too painful to post. I post it now at home.
You are not welcome here in Barceloneta
We were walking down Sant Miquel in Barceloneta where we were renting our apartment when we noticed a big sign on a balcony which said gently “you are not welcome here, you are changing the cultural nature of the area and are making it too expensive for us to live here”. It was a lovely Sunday morning, sunny and crisp, we were exhilarated because we were going to the Picasso museum and this little message, which we felt was aimed at us, dampened our spirits. Our reactions were as different as we each are. One of us found it interesting in a historical sense but did not feel it personally. One of us took it personally and wanted to “do something” such as writing an apologia and attaching it to the sign and asking for dialogue. I, on the other hand, took it very personally.neurotic that I am. I knew of course as soon as we arrived in this area that we were part of the “gentrifying” movement in this very historic poor vital politically active area but did not dwell on it. However, seeing it in writing drove it home with a vengeance. I went into a whirl of depression and unworthiness in a spiraling downward path. This whirl was quite submerged into my subconscious as I immersed myself in Picasso’s amazing early years, and while wandering through the fascinating Gothic district, but it stayed deeply submerged to burst forth in the middle of the night into full blown depression. I felt acutely part of a problem- the problem of being part of the changing of the natural characteristic of this area. Indeed we heard that there is an organized group working on the government to stop this pattern of “gentrifying the area- a hundred and fifty year old working class community. Being part of the problem was only part of it for I felt very comfortable and felt “at home” here and I longed to be belong here. I spent the next two days dwelling on this issue and the feeling of dislocation because of this, but as I continued going on my rounds-shopping for food, eating tapas, exploring the city, I became aware of the friendly expressions and patience of these people whose city we have invaded and felt their warmth and the sting went out of those words “you are not welcome here” and I came to the conclusion that these persons who wrote this were lucky to be able to write that sign because they knew who they were and that they belonged and were even able to confidently say “you are not welcome here”.
