barcelona summer

At dawn, a light rain began to fall outside.

He was still asleep, and it was cold with wind and rain blowing in through the half-open window, so he woke up and took a few seconds to remember where he was, and a few seconds to realize that it was raining outside.

He got up and went to the window.

The rain was getting heavier and heavier, but it was not so big that it poured down.He is not familiar with the climate of Spain, but seeing that the rain doesn't seem to stop anytime soon, it seems that it will keep falling...

That's good too, he likes the rain.

He stood in front of the window watching the rain silently, listening to the sound of the rain beating the city, feeling calm in his heart, he couldn't help humming the song "Broken by the Rain".It's just that the rain didn't hurt him, but maybe someone else?Maybe someone is walking on the street dazedly in the rain at this moment, or caressing a tombstone in dejection?

He felt that it was too much like fiction, but reality is often sadder than fiction.

At 06:30, he went downstairs to the lobby.

It was still raining, and he didn't prepare an umbrella. He planned to borrow one from the hotel owner, and then went out to find a place to have breakfast.

The boss—that is, the man—was already awake at the moment, sitting behind the counter and doing something, the lobby was quiet, and there was no other sound except the rain.He said to the man:

"Excuse me……"

"Ah."

"Can you lend me an umbrella? I want to go out."

"can."

replied the man, and pointed to the door where there were some umbrellas stuck in a cylinder.

"Please help yourself."

"Oh, thanks……"

He didn't expect it to be like this, and he was a little surprised. He didn't expect this small hotel to be so humane, and his impression of men was much better because of it.At first he thought he was a guy pretending to be cold, but now he seems to be a delicate and considerate person.

He pulled out a red umbrella and walked out the hotel door.

Of all the colours, he likes red, rose or bright red best.It was strange, for a man, but he was a writer, and there are so many strange things about writers.For example, he loves to use ellipses when he writes novels.When he needs to describe the psychology of a character, an ellipsis can achieve an effect that words cannot achieve...

No, no, don't think about writing, you are here to relax, don't think, don't talk...

Before he had gone far, he found a small café open for business.There is Spanish written on a small blackboard, I don't know if it is a menu or something else.Through the window, he could see that there were quite a lot of customers in the cafe. He opened the door and walked in. Like others, he inserted the umbrella in the cylinder at the door (it seems to be a custom), and found an empty seat to sit down.

The waiter was a blond, elderly, overweight but very enthusiastic woman who spoke a word of Spanish he could not understand.He just shook his head with a silent smile, and the woman didn't speak English.Fortunately, gestures are common all over the world. He pointed to the meal on the table next to him, meaning to give him the same one.

The blond woman understood (he was curious whether she was the waiter or the proprietress), and stretched out her hand to sign a number, which meant the total cost.

But he didn't understand how much it was. Spaniards gesture numbers differently from Chinese.He just handed over a fifty-euro note, thinking it would probably be enough.

The woman gave him forty euros.Breakfast is [-] euros, it's ok, it's cheap.

After the woman left, the guest beside him spoke to him.The man speaks very broken English, but understandable:

"You are chinese?"

He nodded, thinking that the Spaniards were really enthusiastic, and replied in English:

"Yes, Chinese."

"Live in 'Pedro & Roland'?"

"Yes, how do you know?"

"I live there too, and we met last night."

He tried to remember, but couldn't think much of it.

"Sorry, I don't remember exactly."

"It's okay," the man said cheerfully. "I can't remember what you look like. I recognize you because you are the only Chinese."

"Isn't the innkeeper too?"

The man seemed to realize it suddenly and laughed.

"Haha, yes, I always forget that Roland is Chinese."

"Why did you forget?" he asked.

"Because he's too Spanish," replied the man. "Yesterday was the first time I heard him speak your language."

"His name is Roland?"

"Correct."

"Then who is Pedro?"

"Another boss... I guess you're not here to surf?"

How did this man know?

"Yeah, I'm just here for vacation."

The man did not pretend to be mysterious, and explained the reason to him.

"Because," he said. "The two of them are very famous in surfing circles - very, very famous, unless you don't surf, you know them."

That's it, he thought, never thought that man would be such a famous surfer, but why is he just the owner of a small hotel now?

Something must have happened to the man.

At this time, the blond woman served his breakfast: a cup of coffee, a basket of buns and matching sauces, a piece of schnitzel, and a plate of vegetable salad.Sure enough, it was exactly the same as the person next to him.Both of them smiled at the same time.He took a sip of coffee, picked up a piece of bread and ate it while continuing to chat with the man—it was nice to have someone to talk to in a foreign land.

He asked the man why Roland was the only one running the hotel and where was Pedro.

The man stopped smiling, and his expression suddenly became solemn.

"died."

He thought he had heard it wrong.

"died?"

"The same rainy day as today, I was swallowed by the sea while surfing..."

Hearing this, he couldn't help turning his head to look at the rain outside the window and the sea after the rain.The sea is naturally not calm, but can it threaten the life of a good surfer?

"Surfing is dangerous in the rain, the waves are not as normal, but Pedro insists on..."

The man kept shaking his head while talking, as for him, he didn't know what to say, the story unfolded much faster than he thought.

"Roland hasn't surfed since then," the man continued. "It's been three years since I opened this hotel for surfers."

"Um……"

"Thanks to him, I save a lot of money by surfing in Barcelona every summer."

The man laughed again as he spoke, and he also laughed, thinking that the man in front of him was honest and did not hide anything.

Maybe surfers are like this...

After breakfast, the two of them returned to the hotel.

The lobby was empty, they left their umbrellas at the door and went upstairs together.He asked the man if he was going to surf today too.

"Don't rush, because of Pedro, there are very few people surfing in Barcelona on rainy days. If you don't believe me, you can go to the beach to see."

"I believe it."

The man smiled and patted him on the shoulder—the Spaniard's way of showing affection.

"My friends and I plan to go public today, do you want to come together?"

"No, I don't know you."

"It's okay, don't you know each other now? It's boring to be bored in the hotel on a rainy day. Why don't you go find girls with us?"

"Looking for a girl?"

He wondered if it was that kind of thing, but the man quickly explained: it turned out that they both had girlfriends in the city.

"Maybe they'll introduce you to a Spanish girl," the man said. "You know Spanish girls are pretty."

It was true, but he still wasn't interested.

As a result, he went back to the room alone.But the rain outside the window was heavier than in the morning. After watching the rain for a while, he felt more and more bored, and finally had to pick up "Dream of Red Mansions" and read it again.It is still good to take a thick book with you when you travel. Although it is heavy, it can withstand loneliness.After watching for an hour, he went to the window to watch the rain again, and suddenly saw the red umbrella he was using just now—being supported by someone.And the man was walking slowly along the deserted shoreline.

Although there was no evidence, he still believed that this person was Roland, the hotel owner.As for why he went outside in such a heavy rain, he thought of a very romantic explanation, that is, he was visiting his dead friend Pedro.

Thinking of this, he could no longer read any books.Feeling a little irritable for no reason, knowing that the addiction to cigarettes was coming again, he found the tin box of lemon candies and dropped two candies into his mouth.The candy was sour and sweet, and to be honest, he didn't think it would help him quit smoking.

He decided to go downstairs and have a look.

As soon as I arrived at the hotel lobby, the man was not there.Looking at the umbrella cylinder at the door again, the red umbrella that was used just now has disappeared.

He pulled out another umbrella and stepped into the rain too.

He had no idea where he was going, and simply followed the direction of chance.You can't stay in a hotel room anyway, and the Spanish surfer was right, you shouldn't be bored in a room when it's raining, especially if you're alone.But modern people are mostly alone, right?Although modern people have mobile phones and computers, they are far more lonely than people in the past.Why is this?

Thinking about this question, he also walked along the coastline.The rain was so heavy and the wind was blowing, the pants on the lower body were drenched, but fortunately, it was not too cold to catch a cold (it is not certain, his body is very weak, and he does not catch cold too often).When he raised his head suddenly, he found a red shadow sitting on the sand in front of him, and after a closer look, it turned out to be the umbrella.I saw the hotel owner sitting there staring at the sea, can you use the word "gloomy" to describe him?It doesn't seem very appropriate, because there is no expression on his face.

He hesitated, thinking that he shouldn't disturb the man's memory of his old friend here, so he turned around and left.

A few minutes later, he returned to the hotel, half of his body was completely soaked, but his mood was very complicated, including the happiness of being in the rain, the sadness after hearing the sad story, and a little bit of inexplicable loss.And all of this can be simply summed up in one sentence, that is, I really want to smoke.

But he doesn't smoke, it involves commitment and all the dignity of a man.