So I had been on the outskirts of Perpignan, a little french town near the spanish border, when I was picked up by two dread-headed hippy types who were going all the way to Barcelona. So I hung out with them there, and there we met some Brazilians that were a lot of fun. At night, we sought out a squatt and found one, and they let us stay the night. We got together with the brazilians a couple more times, slept all three of us in their car one night (I was stiff in the morning!) and finally parted company with them. I took up residence in the squatt we had originally stayed at, and have been there since. So I have been enjoying myself in the city, have discovered many of the underground resources this city has to offer, and have met some very interesting people. The squatt where I´m staying is full of italians, but the majority of the residents of this city speak Catalan (Not spanish, and neither do the Catalans consider themselves spanish, as they repeat ceaselessly). I have none the less directed my efforts towards learning spanish, because Catalan is not very useful outside Catlunya, the region where I currently find myself. The dread-headed french hippies have since disappeared, but I still spend a great deal of time with the brazilians. Also, I have met some dutch and catalan people whose company I enjoy. But my life is heading towards a rather major upheaval. In a few days, the squatt I occupy is going to be expulsed by the police. They just had their last party, a 20´s swing party that was hilarious with all the punks dressed in 20´s garb (frequently over their punkish ripped denim and leather and dirty t-shirts), consisting of pearls and long cigarette holders and feathers and such. Now that the party´s over, the squatt is undergoing massive construction, with its inhabitants working round the clock to fortify their position against the police, welding barricades and bars and turning the squatt into an impenitable fortress, a last stand against oppression. I wonder, lying in bed, how all this will end.