that I was like everyone else there. I only knew.
the chorus to most of the songs, even with Lest
Claypool's ramblings there are always some
American kids who seem to know everything
he says. The crowd exploded into near pande-
monium with. "Here We Come and Jerry
was a Race Car Driver" but were less thrilled
by the bass play-
er displaying his
extensive knowl-
edge of Spanish
by reciting the
Taco Bell Menu.
We ended up at
some hardcore.
crusty punk dive
sipping Estrella
Damm. the
Spanish equive
lant Milwaukee's
Best. Being in a
crowded bar with
Spanish
Skinheads and
80's style new-
wavers wasn't
really my forte.
but it was a place
to hang. After
several hours of
old punk classics
we ended up
back at Sants
yearning to sleep
under the marble
tables. When we
got there, the
sketch-ball of the
group, you know
the type, the
tweaker, always
scheming and
dealing and get
ting into trouble-
the one with the
beady eyes to
prove it, this guy
Mickey, had a
huge dufflebag
filled with vend-
ing machine food.
Not really like
American vending
machine food.
stuff like olives in
the train station, they think that because the
skaters hang out in front they are always the
ones pimping gear from weary and/or careless
travelers, we headed out.
10am on a balmy Saturday morning, we
cross the tracks in a mixed group of about 20
Luc relocated to Barcelona from France so
that he could enjoy doing crookeds on the
many benches of the train station.
bag and
ketchup and Ham Cheetos, although Ho-Ho's
and sunflower seeds seem to be an internation-
al staple. We were set up for the weekend.
although the first batch of goods lasted only a
few hours due to the whole group mentality,
basically the idea being. "I don't have any
thing, but you can have some if you want it."
After getting hassled at 5:45am by security at
skaters from different towns along the train
route. First things first. "really fresh fruit."
and so the day progressed, mixed mini-sessions
and some kick-ass cantaloupes. The locals who
were favored didn't bother showing up until
the middle of the afternoon, about 2:30, half
and hour until the real competition was to
begin. The first local bad-ass was this guy
Carlos, a clean-cut kid with a "really hot
señorita to prove he was "the shit" in that
shithole town. While waving away fly swarms
of biblical proportions and trying to fan the
dusty air around I managed to click some pho
tos of the comp. Carlos had the entire basket-
ball court sized skatepark dialed. He blasted
huge grabs over
the fun box and
nailed almost all
of his technical
tricks from both
sides that were
nine foot quar
ter- pipes. But
the winner was
an upset of sorts,
another ramp
local named
Jordy, who was
tall and lanky.
skinny as a rail-
this little fact
made his
heelflips look
either super-
tweeked or
super-ridiculous
like a praying
mantis-I
couldn't decide
which, the
judges did
though. The host
of ceremonies
was
this
Japanese guy
who worked for
Foundation and
for some reason
everyone called
-Saki. He
delighted the
group by having
the DJ spin
nothing but East
Coast hiphop
and taking hist
time and making
exhibition runs,
pleasing the
crowd favorite of
-Japan-air-
gigante roughly
translates into a
fat Japan air.
The competition broke a bit after dark, it
was outside, and it was dark and cold by the
time everyone cleared out. I moseyed my way
toward an old truck with a bunch of skate
stickers on it, the only girl of the bunch.
manned (or womaned) the hot pot of beenie-
weenies and had the rest of the boys pitching a
tent that somehow was to connect with thei
Barcelona has some sick handrails
and a good circle of friends.
trip. I dunno, Spain-go figure. I crawled into
the dome and munched on more food that
sketch ball "obtained" and tried to find a
warm place to sleep. There were about 6 of us
ence on these kids it's unreal. They are basical
ly putting their own twist on American youth
culture in creating their identity, not unlike a
small group of ravers growing up in rural
in the tent when another sketchy guy with the Nebraska trying to keep up with the freshest
bauaivia
BARCELONA
words "old school" in old English tattooed on
his arm pulled out an enormous Hooter. Only
about 17, this young entrepreneur was raking
in cash with his little hash business. About the
the straightedgers in the group got pissed and
a near riot erupted, because the straightedgers
apparently hadn't always been straightedge
and now the whole self-righteous role was too
much for their friends who they used to be
down with to take anymore, it's the same in
any language. In any case, there ended up.
being enough space in the tent when the dust
settled for me to snooze comfortably, however,
near death from the cold.
The Barcelona kids did alright during the
finals on Sunday, the am sponsored ones got
away with free gear, something that everyone
there holds in high regard seeing that a com
plete set-up goes for about $200, and gear is i
double the price it is here. But they all dump
whatever money they have or can "find" into
gear to keep up with West Coast street style.
Magazines like Thrusher have such an influ-
heats from their farm fresh community. It's
hard as hell. They learned English so they
A Spanish pit is worse than
Montezuma's revenge. Check
this action at the Garatje club
as Down By Law tunes up.
could read their favorite
magazines, learning
English from American
kids hanging out there. I
got a chance to inter-
view Down By Law
when we saw them a
week later, and it was
unreal what they told
me about the kids in
Spain not having any
money really but dump-
ing whatever they had
into their garage worker
concert button-downs.
Stuff like that boggles
my mind, all the posters
hanging in the Garatje
Club, the venue for
Down By Law were all
American bands from
the Ramones to Green
Day to Truman's Water
All in all, these kids
are just like any other
kids trying to find at
place in the world.
Although some of the ideas, words, and images
are different in their daily lives, they end up
asking questions and mistrusting authority. So
if you ever get a chance to experience another
culture even for a short period of time. Lassure
you will walk (or skate) away from it with a
fresh perspective on your own life. If you are
ever in Barcelona, find these guys in Plaza de
Sants, right across from the train station,
they're a bunch of kids on this earth that are
worth getting to know.
-Steiner Carl Kierce
72 TH
73