What the doctor ordered

The rain in Spain.

I am coming up to a month now here in Catalonia, so I really should post something about it.

I left from London on Monday morning after staying on the couch of a friend's place. A previous day filled with interviewing, suit-wearing, beer drinking and friend family meeting. From a hot day of 27 degrees in London I landed to heavy rain. Not particularly bothered by it due to the fact that I knew in two months things would become very sunny indeed, though the tourists were less content. Christine was also on the flight but we only managed to see each-other after landing – she recognised the lankiness of my gene pool and I simply recognised her from photos I had seen hanging up in the gallery. The drive wasn't that far from Girona and the roads spilled over the countryside like wiggly snakes, cutting through sepia fields of grain and hills of luscious tree lines.

The house we came to looked nothing like I imagined – like a perky village house of yellow stones and gate in a village (Arenys D'Emporda) so quiet ghosts could be faintly heard in the background shuffling about. The only other noises are the insect and bird life which has free range of the area. From the looks of it, the house used to be based on the idea of a cellar – with sloped ceilings like barrels and close-nit rooms with small windows. The place is well furnished and can comfortably accommodate up to 14 people, more can stow inside so long as they don't mind being overtly friendly. The most popular space is the terrace, where the many smokers can roll and light up with views of the Catalonian wilderness before them in rising and setting suns and at night-time with skies sprinkled with starlight. The non smokers can enjoy the same space but with fewer breaths.

The people are great fun, though the faces appear and disappear as the tides of night and day flow in and out along the shores of time. During my stay here I have only really met inspirational people – they came all here, to this place for various reasons and from various lives around the world, but each came with this fire in themselves to move towards something other from themselves and contribute towards something bigger and more meaningful than simply the 9 to 5 system many abide by. Being here is not only the work, but the entire social and spiritual sphere which accompanies it. It has connection to other 'alike' projects around the world with the implementation of the routines and weekly program. Meditation mornings, speeches, performances, cooking duties, clean up duties, acting class and more. None of which are forced upon us, but taken in comfortable strides as if it's the most natural thing in the world. I've done all of this before many times at the October Gallery, so none of this was strange to me. Others giggle more.

The morning routine has us all pressing ourselves into the kitchen in our many morning states of inebriation or for some, alertness. We pry open the fridge to find any remnants which can be shoved fiercely into mouths fasted from the previous night. Cereal and toast are always there, fresh fruit usually, and if we are very lucky, there is sometimes left overs meat and eggs which can be tossed into a hot pan and nommed before our departure. We sometimes have meetings just before we leave to plan our day, though we usually leave that for the dockyard. We have 4 cars which we can use; and juggle around drivers and purposes often. I usually grab a set of keys at any given chance and speedily zip down the narrow roads. I'm a very comfortable driver now, since only having passed my test late last year I have had many miles now under my belt, and the passengers seem fine about it; though I have been asked to slow down from time to time.

The journey to the dockyard is around 40 minutes and sends us along the coast to the town of Roses. The town is expectedly on the coast too, for a dockyard inland would be a bit silly. On arrival we all head to the main office to sign in; where some purchase cheap coffee from the vending machine. We then all head to the cocoon. Inside is the thing we are all here for where slowly the human milking of blood sweat and tears takes place. There is a caravan where we cook lunches right beside it and on the other side a nice Frenchman called Hugo resides in his landlocked boat as he is also doing impressive repairs. Many of the people here are seasoned seafarers and a kinship is easily formed between them of the attraction of the sea and all it has to hold. This is when things get down to the nitty gritty. Pencil-rodding, meshing, dremeling, grinding, twisting, hooting, banging madness. Some days the steps go forward, others it goes back as more of the original hull is chopped out. Right now we have 14 people here, so it's a crowded mechanism of planning and feeding which goes on. The heat penetrates your skin and you start dripping as the catalonian weather weighs on us. Some of us are just better at dealing with it than others. My burnt nose tells you which one I am.

In my time here I have ripped open my foot, cut every finger at least once, had an array of cuts al the way up may arms and most recently got a nice hickie from a grinder which bounced back and caught be in the neck. Fortunately no-one has had a serious accident yet, but the environment is there to provide the accident if there comes a willing victim. From the upstairs windows of the cocoon where the skeleton ship hides in is a beach, a beach which has clear waters and sunbathers basking in the sun during our masked-faced toil inside. It's quite the contrast and I wish ill thoughts on the sacks of flesh which litter the sand as we sweat away inside. Though, it's a great place to be, and Adrian, a new recruit here takes to the beach every lunchtime for a cooling dip before beginning work again. I should do the same, though I'm usually too lazy to, and I'm waiting on some of my wounds to heal first.

Other than work we all take it in turns to cook and clean etc... it's a vibrant house with people dotted about doing their thing. Usually, outside work our lives revolves around three things – food, beer and spliffs (not for everyone). It's a great place to be as this liveliness is infectious and propels the group forwards towards greater progress, self development and positivity. The people, as I have said before are great, and there is seldom any reason to be critical of others. When I got here there were around 6 people, now there's more than double that – people wont come back if it isn't a good place to be, and pretty much everyone wants to come back. It's sad at the same time though as those you build relationships with leave and energies change constantly. Always it's been positive energy, but there are some who I miss dearly; especially one.

People who travel are usually always well rounded people, people able to deal with things in a methodical way and people with viewpoints which aren't ground into ignorance or intolerance. These are people of the world, wherever they are from, and these are the people I most feel comfortable with. Before coming here I was quite uncertain about myself again, not trusting myself to act or react in a way in which I was happy with. Here though, the doors have been sprung open and I find myself almost completely content with things. The pace of life here and the entire structure is incredibly motivational towards betterment of oneself. These are the kind of people I care for and want to use them in a way to draw inspiration from their various creative talents. Although I have lost 5 kg's since getting here I have gained so much more.

Highlights:

Visited Barcelona.

Went to Dali museum in Figueres.

Went on a spiritual awakening walk in Cadaques.

Done some very silly performances.

Visited a haunted house.

Met Alexa.