I miss my previous neighbors. They were a friendly, quiet, young, married, couple from Valencia. After over a year of living across the hall from each other, we had finally become friends. I had even started a Spanish-English intercambio with the wife in an attempt to perfect my castellano (to understand why I needed this intercambio read this post). One week after our very first session, she announced they were moving to Dublin. I was very bummed. I cheered up a little when the new eye candy, I mean neighbors, two attractive men in their 30s, moved in. Even though it is a two bedroom apartment, a part of me wondered if perhaps they too were a friendly, quiet, young, married couple. After all, I do live on the border of a neighborhood known by the locals as gayeixample. I didn’t have to speculate for long, because last Tuesday night I got my answer.
I got home from work at almost midnight – it was an exceptionally long and busy day at work. I was exhausted, but I hate the feeling of just coming home and going straight to bed, so I watched some TV chatted with my friends on the East Coast and headed to bed around 1am. No sooner had I gotten under the covers, when I heard all this noise emanating from the apartment across the hall. It sounded like a boisterous group of men, talking (more like shouting) and drinking – getting ready for a night out. Did I mention it was a Tuesday night? At about 1:30am I breathed a sigh of relief, as I heard the men exit the building to kick off their night. The silence was golden but it did not last for long. At around 5am – they returned, louder and rowdier than when they left. Then I heard the flirty sound of feminine laughter and once they were inside I recognized the voice of a fellow New Yorker – Biggie Smalls. But no, this was not all a dream – it was a nightmare come true – they were having an after party. On a weekday. In the middle of winter. I would have been more forgiving if it were summer and I was on vacation.
I got out of bed, knocked on their door, and when a man answered, I said , “Joder tío son las cinco de la mañana – yo tengo que trabajar en unas horas!” He apologized and turned off the music. I went back to bed proud of myself for being able to express my annoyance like a local. I was awoken yet again at 630am when their party finally ended. The flirty laughter of the ladies had been replaced with indignant remarks like “What kind of girl do you think I am? You got this all wrong tío!” One girl had lost her phone and she pleaded with the guys to please call her if they found it. I couldn’t help but laugh at the drunken logic. At last one of the guys said, “We have a neighbor who is trying to sleep. You really need to leave or we will call the cops.” Yeah, I really miss my previous neighbors.
This whole incident reminded me of a song that I heard last summer called “La gente está muy loca” or “The people are very crazy” Its all about the party scene in Spain and the video is actually shot in Barcelona. Sorry, New York but you don’t even come close to the nightlife in Spain – where clubs don’t get started until 2am and the after hours places open at 6am. From partying in a mega club in Ibiza, to running with the bulls during San Fermín, to launching tomatoes during la tomatina (all of which I’ve done and will blog about soon!), to a random Tuesday night in Barcelona – people in Spain know how to throw a party. “All day…all night…viva la fiesta….la gente está muy loca…what the f*ck.” It has its ups and it has its downs – but you can’t pick and choose. Its Tuesday night again, and I am headed to bed. Let’s hope I don’t have a repeat of last week.
I’ve included the “clean” version of this video for your viewing pleasure. Warning: even the clean version isn’t very clean – but es lo que hay.