My friend, Bob, had suggested that when I was going to be in Barcelona, I should connect with a man he knew. My friend had met the man at a conference in Utah and they reconnected in Barcelona when Bob traveled there. While the connection in Utah was professional and personal, the reconnection in Barcelona was because Bob really wanted to bend Howard over again and take him from behind. Howard was a born and bred Brooklynite Jew who had decided to retire and relocate to Barcelona after some trips there from New York. He had determined that the weather was better, the housing was cheaper and life could be just as gay, so why not?
I took the connecting information and wrote to Howard about my impending travel to Barcelona. Bob had already alerted him that I was coming and that we should meet while there. Matchmaking anyone? Perhaps. I informed him that I would be there for nine days, so we ought to be able to find a time to meet. Howard replied that he would be happy to meet and show me around.
After I settled into my space in Barcelona in the Navas district, I wrote to Howard and informed him of my arrival and departure dates. I didn’t have phone service then which was an intentional choice at the early stages of my journey. I wanted to break patterns and make my brain work hard instead of asking Google. Howard replied that he had house guests for a few days, but would be free on Sunday afternoon and we could meet for coffee in the downtown area where he lived. He was a bit annoyed at my lack of texting connection, but my shortcoming didn’t bother me. The meeting point would be the Arc de Triomf where it would be an easy place to spot each other. We traded face photos and both of us were easily recognizable.
It was a beautiful sunny day for the forty minute walk from Navas to the Arc but I chose to leave early so that I could include exterior viewings of La Sagrada Familia. The Gaudi church was even more astonishing in person than photos were able to capture. It was so unlike any other European church and I marveled at the creativity. The church was still being constructed so large cranes were mixed among the multiple spires reaching for the heavens. Crowds of tourists were everywhere taking selfies with the impressive structure. I would have to return on a weekday to view the inside.
I arrived early at the Arc and located a shady place for sitting while I waited for the appointed time. On a Sunday afternoon, people were playful in the sun with children blowing large bubbles and chasing them, while young men tossed frisbees and glided by on skateboards. There was even a small group of colorfully dressed acrobats doing tricks for tips. The same sights might easily have been observed in New York’s Central Park.
Howard and I recognized each other at the same time and made waves of acknowledgement. He was a small framed shorter man with white hair on top of his head and a full beard that was trimmed. He wore dark framed glasses that heavily contrasted with all of the white. He had a very jovial smile and I sensed that he was happy the locating hadn’t been difficult. He looked more like a man from Brooklyn than Barcelona.
He knew that I was a walker and suggested that we stroll toward the downtown area which was fine with me. I had already done touring by the Arc and some of the museums but it was his town and I knew that it would be advantageous to be with someone local. Howard pointed out the Picasso museum, the cultural and historical museums, as well as the maritime museum and made sure that I noted where the chocolate museum was. I was glad that he didn’t suggest going inside any of these fine places since it was such a glorious day to enjoy outdoors.
As we walked, Howard was very interested in learning about my journey and what led me to take such a drastic step. He learned about my marriage and some of the issues that led to a divorce after thirty one years. I learned about his gay life in New York during the AIDS crisis and how that had made him very political, perhaps changing his character and interests. It made life dearer to him as he lost friends and lovers due to the disease. I sensed that he still carried anger for the failures of the health system and government that led to so many deaths. I had lost friends and gay professors to AIDS and understood the pain and suffering of those days but didn’t harbor anger as much as sadness.
Howard had worked as a psychologist in New York and was seeing clients part time in Barcelona in his semi-retirement. He was in his middle seventies and had good health, expecting to live to ninety. He was happy about his permanent move and was living in a three bedroom apartment nearby. One of the rooms was rented to make the place more affordable, resulting in a cost of thirteen hundred Euros a month. Currently, he was working on his Spanish, but found that the locals would have preferred he learned Catalan.
Howard seemed most interested in my bisexuality but took an almost confrontational view. I suspected that his old psychology training was partly to blame because the field didn’t accept bisexuality in the 1970s. It took another forty years before that designation was allowed. Since most of Howard’s clients were gay, perhaps he saw the world in gay colors but not the full rainbow. I’ve been with gay men who felt that bisexuals just hadn’t committed themselves or were afraid of identifying as gay. More than once I had to stand up for how my body works well for both genders and desires both genders. From my perspective, that’s why you can get an ice cream cone with more than one flavor on the same cone.
We made our way to Barceloneta on the sea where there were many cafes. Tourists and locals had come for the scenic views as well as drinks with tapas. I wasn’t interested in joining them, but we found a comfortable bench near the water where we could continue our conversation. I wanted to know how it was to settle in a different country. Howard had declared that it was exciting in the beginning and then there were some frustrating parts about not knowing the language so he was working to fix that. Howard felt that he was healthier and happier there and while he certainly missed bagels, there was much about New York he was happy to put behind. Howard loved the youthful exuberance of Barcelona and the feisty Catalan spirit. Nine months of the year the weather was perfect but it was too hot in the Summer with the wind coming from the Sahara. He warned me that there were places downtown not to be after dark because there were spontaneous demonstrations that usually included clashes with the police. I assured him that my walking was mostly done by sunset which I usually enjoyed watching from my large balcony.
He told me a story of a friend who was cheered by seeing pictures of clouds. Howard decided that he would take on a task of finding entertaining clouds every day and take a picture which he would send to the friend. Although the clouds where we were had his interest, Howard had already taken the picture for the day and he didn’t take pictures ahead of the day when it would be sent, like going to get fresh bread every day, as people do in Italy and France. I asked if he would take a picture of me by the marina where we were. Howard boasted that he took pretty good pictures and would be happy to do so. I was delighted with the picture that he took and have sent it many times for people to see what I look like. The picture shows a broadly smiling happy man with blue sky and numerous docked sailboats in the background. Howard had positioned me perfectly for the sunlight to enhance my tanned face. As it turned out, he had made a good assessment of his photographic skills.
Howard decided that it was time for him to be back home before sunset. He was going to take the bus and could help me locate the Metro for my return to Navas. I declared that I would walk back and could escort him to the bus stop. He made sure that I knew where I was and how to get back to the Airbnb. There was a sense of the host’s protectiveness of the guest in these gestures. We walked slower to waiting area, knowing that our time together was closing. Neither had become attracted to the other and no sexual energy was received or delivered by either. It wasn’t long before the bus arrived and we had a gentle hug. I thanked him for his time and information and I was happy that we had met. We knew that our mutual friend would be satisfied to have connected us. He climbed aboard the city bus and I went walking in the same direction back to my place in Navas. I arrived just in time to catch the departure of the sun for that day. I wondered if I would also take on a picture task for a friend. I did find satisfaction in nurturing happiness in others.