It happened about two years ago. Autumn 2007, which I started based in Montevideo and finished in Paris, with two big pieces to munch in between: first a UNESCO general conference, the sort of marathon we just finish now, right after stepping down the plane after two months of hard work in Uruguay; then, a long and challenging UN-reform related mission in Cape Verde, which concerned the reform in its “UN Wars” version. From time to time I would wake up in the middle of the night in spells of intercontinental confusion, not knowing whether I was in Paris, in Barcelona, in Kolda, in Montevideo or anywhere else. That night I was in Paris.
I dreamt about home, in Barcelona. I had returned to my parents’ place in East Poblenou, where I grew up. I was walking in amazement down the Diagonal Avenue. I saw my old school in Pallars street, in a section where the road had been asphalted only when I was eighteen years old. Looking East I saw the Princess Hotel and the Forum, where the old Camp de la Bota had been; many people had been summarily executed there by the fascists at the end of the civil war in 1939; later there were slums amongst the latest ones to disappear, in the mid seventies. Looking west I saw the Diagonal up until the Glòries area; now it is a beautiful avenue, at the time there were just bits of it between old factories and new housing. Looking south-east I saw Selva de Mar street on its way to the new Diagonal Mar residential area and the beach; that street was opened only when I was eighteen, after the railroad tracks of what had been Spain’s first line had been removed; after the massive Material y Construcciones SA factory had been closed down and demolished.
I could not stop thinking about all these changes. How the city had changed, and how I had changed, how I left Poblenou and my city and embarked in an adventure that took me to Paris, but also to Africa and to South America. Caught in my reflection and still amazed I sat down on a bench. Within a minute a young boy appeared and sat down with me. Blue cat-like eyes, very blond, sunny smiling, he said hello and engaged in conversation. He wanted to know who I was, where did I come from, what I was doing there. He was nice and pleasant, and asked with an innocent eagerness to know that immediately conquered my heart.
I dreamt about home, in Barcelona. I had returned to my parents’ place in East Poblenou, where I grew up. I was walking in amazement down the Diagonal Avenue. I saw my old school in Pallars street, in a section where the road had been asphalted only when I was eighteen years old. Looking East I saw the Princess Hotel and the Forum, where the old Camp de la Bota had been; many people had been summarily executed there by the fascists at the end of the civil war in 1939; later there were slums amongst the latest ones to disappear, in the mid seventies. Looking west I saw the Diagonal up until the Glòries area; now it is a beautiful avenue, at the time there were just bits of it between old factories and new housing. Looking south-east I saw Selva de Mar street on its way to the new Diagonal Mar residential area and the beach; that street was opened only when I was eighteen, after the railroad tracks of what had been Spain’s first line had been removed; after the massive Material y Construcciones SA factory had been closed down and demolished.
I could not stop thinking about all these changes. How the city had changed, and how I had changed, how I left Poblenou and my city and embarked in an adventure that took me to Paris, but also to Africa and to South America. Caught in my reflection and still amazed I sat down on a bench. Within a minute a young boy appeared and sat down with me. Blue cat-like eyes, very blond, sunny smiling, he said hello and engaged in conversation. He wanted to know who I was, where did I come from, what I was doing there. He was nice and pleasant, and asked with an innocent eagerness to know that immediately conquered my heart.
Suddenly I realized that the boy was no other than me; it was me when I was ten years old.
I woke up in the middle of the night, my eyes full of tears.
I woke up in the middle of the night, my eyes full of tears.
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