Miedo del verano

I'm a little scared of the summer. I just had a conversation about it with Alesandro (who's Woody Allenness is taking over his Hawkeyeness slowly but surely ever since things got weird with the unrequited love of his life). Apparently the reason that all the locals run away from Barna at the end of July and beginning of August is that the combination of the heat and the endless stream of tourists makes the city unbearable. Don't get me wrong, Barcelona loves tourists, it breathes them in and out and fills it's lungs with the great time they have, it's just that in summer it all gets a little too much.

I'm finding myself in a very weird situation here. I'm attracted to this city by all the things that attract the tourists, and the only real difference between me and them is that I'm effectively prolonging my stay by doing a bit of work during the week. It's not an uncommon way of doing things here - I'm surrounded by people doing the same thing, although I admit very few of them dragged their jobs with them. The only exception to this is Jose, who persuaded his job they needed a Barna office to supplement the Reading one and then became it. He's Spanish though, and so for him it's less exotic.

And yet despite this I really resent the Brits that come here. Obviously not all of them, especially not the ones I invited to come stay with me and you are all still welcome! It's the weekenders, the hen nights, the ones who come because it's cheap, and who hang out in the Irish bars and drink themselves into a stupor that isn't thwarted by opening hours. I resent them for two reasons, firstly I live on their stagger home and have to bustle through them during the day when I need to be somewhere. It's a lot like I used to feel living in Camden (have I said this before?) being the fish that swam against the current of market shoppers and night outers as I tried to visit my parents on the less fashionable end of the northern line.

Secondly though, I can't help feeling they're having more fun than me. Actually this is inevitable, they are on holiday, I'm trying to pretend to live here, it's different. It's really hard to get an early night for your Spanish exam when you can hear the party going on in the plaza round the corner. I could probably solve this by moving out of the old city but there's something just too romantic about it, and although I love the metro here I'd much rather walk or cycle everywhere.

The discrepancy between Barcelona for the English as a foreign Land (BEFL) and as a LOCAL city for LOCAL people was brought home to me this weekend at the Sonar festival. For the uninitiated Sonar (it means ring or timbre) is a three day Electronica festival which has been going for about 12 years and has gained a reputation for being the place to hear the cutting edge of Intelligent Dance Music (or IDM as people who listen to it hate it being called!). When I first went two years ago, with Catherine and Steve and Jodi, it was amazingly exotic.

It takes place by day at the MACBA, Barna's answer to the Tate (which I can't really say because the MACBA was built first) and still my favourite modern building on the planet. It's a maze of simple geometric forms, and a patchwork of all the colours you can make out of white paint - an empty space with enough personality to be an exhibit in itself but without ever detracting from what's in it. One of my problems with the Tate is that it was often nicer to enjoy the room than the works in them.

So for three days every year they put down a bit of astro-turf and hey presto it's a festival. It reminds of the first ever red nose day when one of the mother's didn't get the point and made my friend at primary school a red nose out of a bit of egg carton, some red marker and a rubber band. It's a cursory attempt, but you're still in an art gallery.

Actually it's the perfect setting for a type of music which I've always liked but never felt quite at home with. I mean what is a "laptop set" for heavens sake. The guy could be playing solitaire for all you know. That said I heard some great stuff, and the bad stuff didn't matter anywhere near as much because of the setting and the ease with which you could just wonder about.

By night it's a different story. The acts are bigger and dancier, and the setting is in the warehouse district in the sticks (as much as you can be in the sticks in such a compact city, it was still only a tenner in the cab). It's this Huge vacuous set of aeroplane hangers or conference centers or whatever the hell they are. I remember the first year I came and there was Bjork singing to thousands of people at one end of the room and bumper cars at the other end without interrupting each other. It's an all night mad party for people who like their parties large loud and anonymous, and don't get annoyed at having to buy tickets to get drinks. Oh and some of the toilets are real - and some aren't, indoor chemical toilets take some getting used to.

So getting back to my thread (sorry guys it is 4am) I was blown away by the otherness and foreigness of it all when I first came, this really isn't how we do things back home. Actually much of that was having Barcelona on hand in the in between bits - infact as I remember I bored Jodi to death telling her how much I wanted to live here. This time round it's charming in a different way, it's so great to have a party you can go back home from. I wonder down MY street, past MY favourite tapas bar into MY local art gallery and, oh look there's a festival on.

The other thing that struck me this time is how English the damn thing is. Almost everyone there, Acts and audience, where from London. It's understandable really, Catherine worked out it was cheaper to fly here, stay here and buy the ticket than go to Glastonbury. Not so for the locals. Most of my Spanish friends were complaining that they wanted to go but it was way too expensive, and Jovi called it elitist, which really threw me.

So this year, although I was exhausted after leaving the Saturday by night, I decided to go down the street a little way (it's 7am by the way) and take a look at the anti-sonar free festival round the corner, a kind of outdoor squat party. This was all locals and by the time I got there very messy. Lot's of dirt, lot's of half broken soundsystems playing unidentifiable music, loads of cheap considering but nonetheless expensive warm beer, and for good measure a derelict building nearby with people on the roof. When I went to look at how they got up there I was shocked to find there was no roof. It was just a gutted husk of a building with scaffolding up one end and loads of that stuff they make hammocks out of strung across the rafters, in which were dangling very tired party goers who looked from below like happy flies caught in a spiders web. I half wanted to have a go, and then thought better of it. I had by that point run out of film which is something I think I'll always regret.

For those who like this sort of thing, my pick of the festival were DJ Yoda, The Battles, Hot Chip, Radian, The LCD Soundsystem (although that doesn't count because I knew them already) and the incredible, indescribably talented Jamie Liddell. Thank you so much Cat and Steve for showing me round musically, I'd have been lost without you and I hope I returned the favour by helping you around the non English bits.

Anyway, enough from me, it's fireworks night tomorrow and I need some more sleep.

May your summers be one big festival and the grass always be astro-turf on the other side.

XX Danny