The Islander

by Laura Helmert (Spain)

I didn't expect to find Spain

The sound of his voice caressed my hearth and I instantly felt attracted to him. Sure, I had fallen for interesting accents before. Me, an avid traveller, that had relentlessly explored the linguistic diversity of the mediterranean coast and was just coming home for the blink of an eye, already packing my luggage again to continue my incessant journey. The very same person I was a moment ago, now was standing here, in my mother’s home town, falling for my mother’s tongue. Not the national one, but the local one. The language in which I had been sung to sleep, the language in which I had been comforted and reproved. The language that had taught me love. We spoke the same language. His Catalan, however, turned him into a mystery, as he hadn’t grown up in Barcelona, but in Menorca. So when he spoke with me he sounded, to my delight, like a local and a foreigner at the same time. Astonished, I verified that I just had discovered a new side about myself, that I just didn’t expect to find. Once again, my traveller journey had let me to a new discovery, which wasn’t neither a spectacular view nor the latest site to visit: I had always focussed so much on my global reach, that I hadn’t been able - until now - to perceive this strong connection to my local roots. In the end, what was this thing called my local roots? My childhood experiences that tint my view of the world in their very own color, I would have said a moment ago. And here was I, a second later, standing in front of this man that didn’t knew me at all and, still, understood me perfectly since he knew how it is to live in-between and what it means to be a foreigner in your own home town. Before coming back to Barcelona, I had been away for six years. A journey that had gifted me with a precious collection of memories that had broadened my horizon and made me grow as a person. Six years I had filled with adventure, unlike my peers back home. Six years in which I had missed what had happened in my hometown. Had I? The bitter-sweet taste of this thought vanished now, seeing my strong connection to Barcelona which I hadn’t perceived while abroad. Suddenly I realized that Barcelona had always been a part of me and I had always been a part of Barcelona. In an automated manner, I looked back at the birght neon light sign at the entrance of the bar, still telling me “Everybody has a Barcelona side.” Its meaning though, just had changed: When arriving at the bar I had looked at the sign through the eyes of a traveller. Someone who has made the travel experience of visiting a place and soaking in its essence in a way that will impregnate her long after she has left. A travel experience I knew well enough. Every destination leaves its mark in your journey. This time, I read the very same sign through the eyes of a local, knowing deep inside that no matter how far I’ll travel in my life, I’ll always have a Barcelona side. My lips slightly suggested a smile before I looked back in his eyes while he was talking to me with the same attractive ring in his voice. It turned out he was a music professor and played in a band. It made sense to me straight away. How else could it have been? It took him two dates to finally live up to the connection between us and kiss me with passion. I waited patiently, letting me guide by his rhythm and the rhythm of the city. Nonetheless, it was way earlier, right back in this very particular moment in which we had first met, that I instinctively, maybe subconsciously, took the decision to unpack my suitcase again. I’d be staying home, for a while. Just a moment, a second in time like any other. A moment that passes by, touches your heart, feeds your soul and leaves you stronger than before. And changes your life forever.