It was three years ago this morning that I first set foot in Calatrava. I remember being at the entrance with my sister and alllll my stuff, and seeing George for the first time as he opened the door and said, "BUT WHY YOU HAVE SO MUCH STUFF?!?!" The first trip up the fabled (and often broken) elevator, my first glimpses of the apartment... quiet on a late August morning because Marco wasn't up yet and Alex was in Costa Brava with Natalia.
A few hours later Marco woke up, sleepy from a night in his then-home-away-from-home, Danzatoria, which sadly no longer exists. Never mind, we replaced it with our second home Sutton Club during the second year anyway. I remember setting up my bed and desk with Nicole, wandering around the city, which seemed far emptier than it does now (don't get me wrong, it's still tumbleweed central around here), meeting all my new and soon-to-be good friends, taking in the view from the roof of Calatrava, and of course one barbecue after the next.
I saw Marco last week for dinner in London, and I talk to George regularly on Skype. But it's still not the same as waking up every morning in Calatrava, stumbling around in our underpants as we struggle to make coffee and burn toast and get to class on time. I don't miss the cases or the exams or the projects, but I do miss meeting up with friends and classmates to work on them. Mostly I just miss being able to see my friends whenever I want to. Now Alex has a baby, so does Pierre who moved in after him, and Atsh, who lived in Calatrava during the second year, has moved back to Tokyo.
I'm fortunate enough to have been able to see a lot of my IESE friends through travel for work or for fun, and Barcelona isn't a bad place to return to, so people roll through town from time to time. But on this morning of August 22, even though I'm getting ready to head out with Frenchy for a road trip adventure in southern France and northern Spain, having just dropped off my moto at that Calatrava garage for safekeeping, I'm certainly feeling a little something in the pit of my stomach.
And I realize it won't be that hard to leave Barcelona for Paris next month. In fact, it'll probably be easier than ever to see my friends (especially the London-based ones), and I won't have to worry about getting choked up when I pass by Calatrava and think of my Calatrava guapos. I MISS YOU GUYS!!!