The wind is getting stronger every day, the current forecast for Saturday is 78km/h. The storm will catch me offshore behind Barcelona. You don’t really need a kite to fly there. Jacket on and take off. The planes will stay on the ground, the ships in the harbour and the gondola up Montjüic will be shut down. I wait full of anticipation.
I can’t find a pair of neoprene gloves anywhere in Barcelona, let alone a balaclava. Even though the Barcelonians are walking around in their thickest polar coats at 12 degrees. How could they ever go kitesurfing? Like every day, I walk several kilometres through Barcelona. Today I’m going to the old castle on Montjüic. The wind blows cold around the old cannons.
On the way back, I walk alongside the Rambla. Suddenly, right next to one of the most famous streets in the world, the alleyways are very dark and dirty. There are black people everywhere, and you don’t know exactly what they’re doing there. It’s quite clear with the women. You can hardly shake them off. It smells of piss and dirt. A punk unpacks a spoon. Arabs hang in front of dodgy kebab holes.
I don’t like dirt, I don’t like danger, and syphilis is nasty. But how nice would the Rambla right next to it be without this wonderful contrast just a few metres away? My home has been renovated to death, and that’s a real shame for people who want to see more than a clean down feather in virgin snow.
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.