This is really an interweaving of two stories into one. I first met Paco during Carnaval. At that time, my friend Jason from Australia was visiting, and I had gotten interested in juggling and doing crazy dances. So, we decided to merge the two ideas, and started juggle-dancing with invisible balls. One advantage of using balls that don't exist is that you can do a lot of things that aren't possible in real life. Throw the balls over buildings. Behind your back. In your mouth. And start spontaneous interactions with complete strangers.
Paco was one of those strangers. But, instead of being like 'what the hell is going on?', Paco threw the invisible ball back. This began an intense interchange of about 20 minutes, running around Badajoz, madmen posessed, oblivious of onlookers and obstacles. It is like finding someone in a crowd who has the same birthday as you; you feel an instant connection. After we could juggle no more, we hugged and parted ways. I didn't expect to see him again, and pegged it down as one of those unexplicable coincidences that just happen in life.
Clearly, I did see Paco again (Badajoz isn't that big). He roomed with one of my Erasmus friends, and after a couple of conversations, he offered to lend me some masas (really cool circus juggling-clubs). Of course, I accepted. Paco arranged to have his friends bring them to a BBQ we were planning to have at a nearby pond (el charco). But he didn't come. This all could have been avoided if he came.
Scene 2. Enter el charco. El charco is one of my favorite spots around Badajoz. It is a large pond, and is hidden among the hills of an enormous park in the outskirts of Badajoz. To find it, you have to drive on sandy paths for maybe 2 miles, until you reach a crest and see spread out below a sparkling lake rounded by small acorn trees. There are groups of teenagers playing in the water, boys playfully tackling girls, everyone drinking wine mixed with coke and listening to bad reggaeton. But, if you come at the right time, your only companions are ducks.
Some of my friends and I decided to have a going-away party at el charco. We barbequed; we swam across the lake; we lay in hammocks for hours. This was my first opportunity to try out the masas and I loved them, being able to juggle three within an hour. But, somehow in the rush of logistics and packing up, I left the masas behind.
A week later, Paco asked for the masas. Only then did I realize that they are lost, and spent a frantic 24 hours trying to find them. To no avail. I felt like a shepard who has lost a sheep. Breaking the news to Paco was hard, but I had to do it. He was surprisingly understanding, actually still hoping that they will turn up somewhere. My last interaction with Paco was a rushed goodbye, me leaving a party at midnight to sprint to the bus station to catch a ride to Madrid that will eventually start me on my exaggerated journey home.
Side note: I ordered some masas online. I now practice them every day at home.
