Summer wishes lack solemnity and scientific rigor. Nor is it the same to get a girlfriend in January than in August: people sense that the intentions are light.
I, for this summer, want Barcelona to be filled with foreigners, even in my neighbourhood, from the middle class who have come to more – to more years – and under construction because they are going to build us a pedestrian promenade. Nothing, about a year and a half gas…
The foreigners in Barcelona give life and fill the pockets of people who without foreigners would have to carry out research, ornithology or teaching, just as those who see a tourist and complain wish, as if Barcelona could be the Silicon Valley of the Mediterranean , if you propose it.
And I extend my wish to all of Catalonia –and the coast of Murcia, if the reader is from Mazarrón– because after two summers of misery, they have to work hard and at ease, although later we will complain –I am the first– that the service gets worse .
The foreigners love Barcelona more than Barcelona loves the foreigners. The same thing happens to me with Laura Dern: she doesn’t even call me shots and I mention her more than Vanity Fair. The things of love!
Waiting for technological parks, it is to be appreciated that the restaurants, La Manual Alpargatera and the Museu del Barça are filled with tourists lest we see Laporta asking –“I have an appetite”–, even if they spend in a certain Barcelona and not another.
The foreigners like the typical and rarely visit the Guineueta –in this they are similar to the people of Barcelona– and thus there is no way to regulate tourism as our authorities would like, who believe more in regulation than in eternal life and aspire to diversify the offer, in the same way that I aspire every August to sail the seas on the yacht of a Luxembourger, even if it is for rent (the yacht).
Bars, restaurants and the Museu de Carrosses Fúnebres – which only opens on weekends – deserve a summer of fat cows and fewer complaints from citizens who go to an apartment in a coastal town in August, where they are given mocking nicknames, perhaps because they were deprived of trades as beautiful as fishing. And so slaves…
