The Guest House

Juliann and Adam visited Barcelona a few years ago, before Lorelai was born I think. It’s difficult these days to keep track of such things, birthdates of grandkids included.

Even when the kids were younger, I’d struggle to get their names right, especially the girls. It might take two or three attempts, four on occasion. They didn’t seem to mind, and rarely corrected me. Perhaps they thought they might escape some consequence if I misidentified them.

Anyway, Ju and Adam had a wonderful time in this high energy city, reminding me a few days ago of its highlights. For Adam, an evening at the Ziryab Shisha Lounge is a must.

He couldn’t recall the location but knew the neighborhood. The Ziryab, I discovered, was just a ten minute walk from the Hostal Fernando, tucked away quietly in a maze of side streets and alleys where the best places are often found.

Arriving shortly after 6:00, I was greeted with a sign by a pleasant young man. You see, everyone employed at the Ziryab is hearing impaired. Their silence is calming. With a menu in hand, he led me up narrow stairs, offering one of two rooms.

I chose the one on the right, it being unoccupied.

Settling in, I studied the menu. Having visited Istanbul several years ago, I know a little about shisha. For the uninitiated, shisha, or hookah tobacco, is a mixture of dried herbs or fruits, tobacco, glycerin, and molasses. I ordered the Al Fakher (the Classic Middle Eastern) with a passion fruit mix.

While waiting, I sipped on a mild black tea with cardamom and visited with two young men who had arrived shortly after.

One left Croatia for Barcelona five years ago for work. He fell in love and stayed. The other, a native with roots going back generations. They meet at the Ziryab once a month, without fail, for shisha and good company.

Soon enough, a young woman appeared, set up my hookah bowl with pipe, and gently placed three hot coals evenly spaced around the rim.

Throughout the evening she replenished the coals a half dozen times.

An ample shisha mix, as mine was, will last up to three hours.

An hour in, three young women showed up just as the young men left. The four of us were soon engaged in conversation. Yael, born and raised in Kenya by Jewish-Bolivian parents, is an accomplished artist committed to wildlife preservation. Lourdes, an educator and community activist, will return to El Salvador someday (after her travel is completed) to help rebuild communities. And Lorna, from Dublin with a Masters Degree in international law, will soon begin work with an NGO in Guatemala.

All three are informed, passionate, and committed to making things better.

For a good two hours our talk ranged from the importance of travel, to human rights, to privilege, oppression and wealth distribution, to making one’s way in a world without roadmaps. It was a wonderful evening. Only one thing would have made it better, to have had my daughters present, sharing in the conversation, and the shisha.

The women had yoga in the morning - on the pier - and so left before I did. Alone with my hookah, I fixed my attention on a Rumi poem, one of my favorites, attached to the wall at eye level.