6:00 AM on a Thursday in August in Barcelona. The alarm rings: my day begins. Sleepy and a bit hungover ---the night before I had some wines with a friend, and that takes its toll---, I jump out of bed, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, drink water, get dressed to run, and make myself a long coffee. Everything happens almost like a learned choreography, and I run out to be ready at 6:40 at the corner where, every Thursday of the year, my running friends and I meet in Poblenou, Barcelona's maritime neighborhood.
Living and training in Poblenou implies tradition and globality, it implies expats and locals, and also a lot of diversity. This morning, at the end of August, there was already more of a runner's atmosphere and less solitude on the coast. Running at those hours gives you a very curious perspective of the city; we cross paths with those of us who get up early to run and those who swim in the sea in their party clothes after leaving Razzmataz or Soho. And, since we are all happy because we are doing what we want, we smile and greet each other and say good morning.
I am not from Barcelona. I decided to move to this wonderful city 23 years ago, when my partner at the time and I wanted to share life. We looked for a neutral place, one that wasn't either of ours. From that freedom, we did a pros and cons analysis and concluded that the best thing was to live in front of the sea, in a city like Barcelona. We did not hesitate to discover this corner and connect with its vibe and spectacular energy. That has made the sea a part of my life, my family, and my balance. In fact, Barcelona is sea, it is beach, it is coast, it is beach bars, it is surf, it is kitesurf, it is windsurf, it is swimming, it is beach volleyball, it is picnics, it is sandcastles and it is infinite, horizon, movie sunrises and breakwaters where the sea bounces and shows its strength.
This morning, running with my foreign friends who chose this city to undertake, to start a family, to build a future ---to feel, to some extent, Barcelonans--- they asked me: why have we been a month without security on the beaches, without lifeguards? They also asked me, why doesn't a city of this category have a plan B? How can it be that, in the middle of high season, in the face of a strike, it is not possible to negotiate or hire a private service?
And they were right. We play in the front line at the level of the most top destinations in the world and we remain so calm when running along the 5 kilometers of coastline and its 28 beaches, passing by the 21 security towers and welcoming 5 million bathers annually, we left them all without lifeguards. We were jogging and we saw the signs that warned: Strike, no security. That is, if something happens to your child or to you, it is your responsibility.
I didn't know what to answer. I thought that, if we are in the champions of cities, we need champions resources. Because this is also a city brand. When you leave your bubble and mix with the citizens who love Barcelona more than you ---because they have left their land and are betting on this one--- and they question such obvious things, you don't know what to say.
All that's left is to shout: Barcelona SOS.