barcelona summer

The next day, there was no trace of rain on the street, and the weather was fine. He made an appointment with the foreign surfers in the hotel to watch them surf.

There are four men in total, all Spanish, two from Madrid and two from Barcelona.He knew that the football teams in these two places were deadly rivals, and the incompatibility of water and fire was no longer enough to describe the degree of hostility, but after asking, he found out that the people in the two places did not hate each other, and indeed some football fanatics would That way, but for ordinary people, the grievances of the football team do not affect them making friends with each other.

Each of these four surfers has a set of special surfboard surfing suits. It is said that a good board costs thousands of euros, and a cheap one costs four to five hundred.So these people are rich?Yes, they admit, surfing is a very expensive sport after all, and it doesn't make money, and it depends on the face of God, in short, it is very troublesome.

"Then why are you surfing?"

He asks the question and feels stupid after asking it: of course because he likes it.

That's what they answered.

Also like surfing, and their girlfriends.But only three have girlfriends, two in Barcelona and one in Madrid.They also came to see them that day. The three girls were all in their twenties, with blond hair and blue eyes, full of youthful vigor.They don't surf, though, and their skin is much fairer than the dark skin of the four surfers.Speaking of which, the surfers are tall and burly, they are the king of fire and the king of smoke.

He stayed on the shore talking to the three girls while they went surfing.

He learned that there were two Barcelona men among them, the boyfriends were two Barcelona surfers, and the boyfriend was the Madrid one from Bilbao, and the boyfriend met at the university in Madrid.They are all college students, and so are they, and surfing is their hobby and a great way to do it when summer comes.It doesn’t rain easily in summer in this place, and the sea is “very respectful” and there are always waves to wash over.

They asked him what he did.

"I write books."

"what book?"

"Love novel."

There was a bit of respect in the eyes of the girls.

"Wow, that's amazing, you're a writer!"

If he wants to show off, he can go online and show them the books he has written.Although the book has not been translated into Spanish, there is an English version, with his photo printed on the inside of the book, and a series of hype propaganda words written on it.If he didn't mind losing face, he could show them.

Of course he didn't, and it didn't matter if they believed it or not.

He watched the surfers surf with them.

It was the first time for him to see people surfing. He saw these people lying on their surfboards and swimming to a place more than ten meters away from the coast. They waited for another wave to jump onto the boards and carefully controlled the angle between the boards and the waves. Just like that, gliding on the seemingly small waves.He didn't understand the principle at all. How could that board float on the sea because it was so small?Still carrying the weight of a grown man?But the fact is before our eyes, these surfers fight the wind and waves again and again, with laughter on their faces, it is a happy sport.

An hour later, the surfers came back to rest on the beach.

They rented a parasol under which everything was spread out.As soon as the surfers landed, they unzipped the zippers on the back of their surf suits, and gulped down sports drinks while wearing their upper bodies.And he, like the girls, had juice.None of these people smoked, maybe surfing required them not to touch cigarettes, and the girls smoked less in the first place.

This made him feel inexplicably relieved: in another corner of the world, these young people in foreign countries were living a healthy and cheerful life, and even he, who was an outsider, was also happy.He ate and drank with them, something delicious and fresh, good for body and mind.The sun is also good for the body and mind, as is the sand, the sea.The three surfers who had girlfriends sat with their girlfriends, and the one who didn't came to him. It was the one he met in the cafe yesterday morning. His name was García, a third-year student at the Polytechnic University of Madrid.Garcia is not humble at all. He laughed and said that the university he went to was the best in Madrid.Chinese people would not be so straightforward, he thought, even if Chinese people went to Tsinghua University and Peking University, they would not say that their school is the best in the country.

But he likes Garcia's openness. Sometimes our compatriots are a little too reserved, so reserved that you can't figure out what they want to express.

"Why don't you have a girlfriend?" So he also asked Garcia bluntly, knowing that this question would not embarrass him.

"I did, but she dumped me, haha."

This Garcia is also a handsome guy, he doesn't quite understand why she was dumped.

"It's normal," Garcia explained, faltering in broken English. "That's a French girl, an exchange student... She will return to her country as soon as the time is up, and the relationship will fade after a long time."

So it's a foreign relationship, he thought, but Europeans' long-distance relationship is about the same as our long-distance relationship.

"What about you? No girlfriend?"

Others also inquired about him.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't find a suitable one."

"Shall I introduce you to a Spanish girl?" said a girl in Barcelona. "We have plenty of good girls in our school."

If the love affair with the French is not going well, let alone with him, a Chinese?Besides, compared with them, he was a little too old.

"No, thank you for your kindness."

Soon the surfers regained their strength and went into the sea again.He continued to stay on shore with the girls.These girls didn't wear swimsuits, just short-sleeved shorts, and there was nothing embarrassing about being together.They asked him if he had a mobile phone, if there were Chinese songs on the mobile phone, and if they could play a few to listen to.So he played some of Sodagreen's most Chinese-style songs "Story", "Gleaners", and "The Last One in Your Heart", which were well received among the girls.

"This is Chinese style, isn't it?"

He smiled and nodded, faintly proud of the beauty of his language.

At noon, he and his party returned to the hotel.They go back to put away their gear, then shower and change while their girlfriends are waiting in the lobby.He, too, went upstairs to wash his face and reapply sunscreen.Interestingly, no matter how expensive or good the sunscreen is, it will lose its effectiveness under the Spanish sun. In just one morning, he felt that he was a degree darker.

Garcia knocked on his door just after taking a shower.

"We're going to the city for lunch, would you like to come?" Garcia said.

"Forget it, everyone is not familiar with it, so don't spoil the atmosphere."

"It's okay, aren't we already friends? Come together."

"This……"

He hesitated, but eventually declined.Although chatting with these people is very pleasant, it still feels weird to eat together.

But he accompanied them downstairs and watched the four men and three women leave in the lobby.Suddenly he felt a little regretful, thinking that if Garcia was the only one without a companion...

In the corner of the lobby, the hotel owner was squatting on those surfboard money. Looking carefully, it turned out that he was wiping the surface of the surfboard with a soft cloth.Also, it is corroded by sea water every day, at least wipe off the salt after use.But why is the boss doing it?Does this hotel also maintain surfing equipment for others?He was a little curious, so he stepped forward to talk to the boss:

"What are you doing?"

In fact, he was not a person who would take the initiative to talk to strangers, but at this moment in Barcelona, ​​it seems that he is inevitably contaminated with some of the enthusiasm of the city.

"Maintain the surfboard." The man said without looking back.

"Those residents?"

"No, it's from the store."

"Does the store also offer surfboard rentals?"

The man stopped what he was doing, and pointed to a blackboard on the wall with Spanish written on it.

"I don't understand..."

"Oh, sorry……"

The man stood up, turned to face him, and shook his head slightly:

"The store provides surfboards and surfwear. Do you surf too?"

"No, do you think I look like a surfer?"

"Not like."

"Then what do you think I look like?"

"..."

The man didn't answer, but he smiled and told the man that he wrote a book.

The man was unmoved.As for him, he has no complacency at all, and he has no intention of making men admire him, but just wants to tell men about his profession.He added:

"Actually, I'm quite envious of people who can surf."

"You can learn."

He shook his head, knelt down and touched the oiled surfboard:

"It's too late, first of all I can't even swim..."

"It's not difficult, one week is enough."

A week was the time when he was scheduled to stay in this hotel, and now two days and nights had passed—time passed so quickly.

"Really? You really think so?" he said.

"absolute."

The man's tone was affirmative, almost undeniable.He stood up and met the man's gaze, only to notice that the man's pupils were pure black, not the dark brown of ordinary Chinese.Is it because of the sun?He thought, besides burning people's skin, sunlight would also burn their pupils black?But this kind of black is very beautiful, like the flint used by the ancients, which is the flint that sparks when rubbed, and also like a comet, like a meteorite.

He had never seen anyone with such pupils before, so he couldn't help but stare dumbfounded.

The man didn't look away, and they stared at each other for five seconds.

He didn't know why the man didn't look away, and he didn't know what the man saw in his eyes, he only saw the light hidden in the dark eyes, thinking that this man was far warmer than the indifference he showed...

He spoke first to break the silence:

"But maybe I can try and learn to swim..."

"..."

The man is silent.So he found another sentence:

"Surfing is fine, I'm afraid I don't have the courage."

"You're right, surfing takes courage..."

The man said, looking sad.

He didn't know the reason, but he also became sad.Sentimentality is also a writer's occupational disease.