Safe and Sound

Back on the farm now after a busy week-and-a-half in Barcelona.

The turnouts for the big events (i.e., the ones we focused on the most on the PokerStars blog) of the PokerStars Championship Barcelona series were all quite big, which meant a lot of long days strung together. That in turn meant not a whole lot of extracurricular activity outside of the casino or hotel during my stay, although I did get out a couple of times.

This was my fourth trip to Barcelona, and having spent some time sightseeing on earlier visits (including once with Vera Valmore), I didn’t feel too much urgency to get out this time, even if I had wanted to.

The day before leaving I did manage to make the walk over to La Rambla, which would have been 10 days after the attack there that occurred the day before my arrival. It was a Sunday. A couple of police vans were parked at the end where I entered from the roundabout, the opposite end from where the attack began.

As you might have seen on television, there’s a wide pedestrian walkway in the center with two narrow streets on either side. As it was the weekend, portable stands and tents were set up throughout selling paintings and other locally-produced art along with other souvenirs -- the Fira Nova Artesania flea market where tourists frequently pick up items to take home.

There had been a big memorial at the location the day before, and a lot also happened at the site during the three-day mourning period the previous weekend. This Sunday, though, there was little evidence of what had taken place before. Life had gone on, as it does.

Walking back out I saw a few the “human statues” getting ready for the day, including the first three featured in this video another visitor made a few years back. They weren’t quite set up for the day just yet, and as they readied themselves there was something uncannily business-like about their preparations.

Walking back through the streets of Barcelona to the Hotel Arts for the last day of play, I found myself doing more people watching than usual, occasionally caught off-guard by short though intense bursts of melancholy over the cruelty and horror that had been perpetrated there (and elsewhere).

That photo above (taken by someone else -- I am replacing my old phone soon, as the camera has been worthless for a while) shows where someone had written in Catalan on the base of a La Rambla street lamp “Tots som Barcelona” -- i.e., “We are all Barcelona.”

Truth be told, the great majority of the human race is good and looking out for one another. They might be motivated and/or encouraged differently to feel that way about others, but I think most of them know (perhaps instinctively) that helping and loving each other is what gives our meaning. Perhaps the only thing.

All ended well poker-wise. The Main Event winner Sebastian Sorensson, a Swede who was quiet and wrapped up tightly in a Miami Dolphins scarf throughout most of the tournament, turned out to be a gregarious (and hilarious) winner, delivering a fantastic post-even interview with Joe Stapleton that’s worth checking out.

The trip back home was smooth and without incident. Was good as always to reunite with Vera and the several four-legged friends with whom we share this small, pie-shaped slice of the world where we all take care of each other. And where I’ll be staying put for a while.

Photo: “Todos somos Barcelona - We are all Barcelona - El mundo es Barcelona - The World is Barcelona | | 170827-8851-jikatu” (adapted), Jimmy Baikovicius. CC BY-SA 2.0.

Morning in Barcelona

“It could have been worse” is a phrase we’ve all heard and most of us have probably used. Usually after something bad happens.

(Actually, as I try to start out on that foot, I can’t avoid noting how we have a president in the United States right now who appears intent on proving nearly every single day that yes, it can be worse. But I’ll avoid that digression just now.)

Depending on the context, the phrase “it could have been worse” can have different connotations and thus produce different effects.

In certain circumstances, it can be genuinely comforting to recognize that whatever bad thing has happened, it wasn’t as bad as other possible events. You leave your wallet behind at a restaurant, but when you return an hour later they’ve kept it for you and gladly return it. It could have been worse, you say.

Sometimes, though, it feels trite or hollow to make such a remark, especially when the bad thing that happened is much, much worse than some mundane, easily handled inconvenience. That said, as I sit in my hotel room here in Barcelona this morning catching up with the latest details regarding the terrorist attack that occurred Thursday about two miles from here at La Rambla in the city’s center -- and the subsequent attack occurring in Cambrils about 70 miles away -- it’s hard not to shudder at the thought of how much worse it could have been.

Still, like I say, that rings hollow. Such senseless, deranged horror perpetrated on so many innocents, and for no reason whatsoever other than to serve some mindless, indefensible, inhumane cause. (And frustratingly reprising several other attacks here in Europe, as well as another deranged and deadly decision made for similarly stupid reasons in Virginia a week ago.)

You’re following the coverage, too, so I won’t rehearse all of the details I’m learning both through various news sources and via conversations here where I’ve come to help cover the PokerStars Barcelona Championship series already underway. Suffice it say, the circumstantial evidence strongly suggests more ambitiously cruel plans by the perpetrators failed to be realized for various reasons (including some swift action on the part of Spanish police).

It was sickening to follow the story two days ago from the farm while I was packing for the trip, the chest tightening more than a little at the thought of my many friends and other familiar and friendly poker folks who were already here. Brad Willis provided a thorough and sensitive explanation of this feeling yesterday for the PokerStars blog in a post titled “On terror, fear, and perseverance in Barcelona.”

That post includes a photo my friend and fellow reporter Alex Villegas took yesterday, as well as some by another friend and colleague, Neil Stoddart. (That's another of Neil’s up above.) Catalan officials have declared three days of mourning, lasting through the weekend.

Alex arrived in the morning on Friday, and since our check-in wasn’t until later in the afternoon he spent that time over at La Rambla as we’ve done before on past visits to this beautiful, inviting coastal city. I came a little later (though still too early to get a room), and he and I spent much of the afternoon talking about various things, including those many memorials now dotting the pedestrian path.

We begin work today, the first of what will be nine straight days of reporting. There is some cloud cover this morning, though the usual deep blue is nonetheless gamely starting to peek through up above.

It’s my fourth trip here, and before coming I had plans once more to get out when I can to see the city and its people. I still plan to do so, and will likely get over to La Rambla at some point as Alex and Neil have already done.

It’s good to be among my many friends who like me have been here many times. It’s also good to be among the always friendly and inviting people who live here. I’m glad to be back.

Photo: courtesy Neil Stoddart / PokerStars blog.

Volem Dormir

That to the left is a photo of a building located not far from the Casino Barcelona, snapped during a brief walk on Friday morning over in the nearby Barceloneta district. It’s an apartment building with bedsheets hanging out of the windows, all bearing messages complaining about noise and expressing the need to sleep. (Click to enlarge.)

Stephen Bartley wrote a little something about the messages in a post on the PokerStars blog last week. We had noticed during late dinners how there was a ton of activity late at night, even after midnight. The beaches were full of people, as was the boardwalk and many of the establishments near this building.

As Stephen wrote about, there were demonstrations Friday and Saturday night, which if I follow things correctly were conducted by the locals protesting what the influx of partying tourists has done to their sleeping patterns. I would see some of those protests walking back to the hotel around 2 a.m. that night -- lots of cars blaring their horns cruising up and down the avenue, with a heavy police presence all about.

Reading around I see the whole “Volem Dormir” (“we want to sleep”) campaign has been around for a while now, with the bedsheets a not uncommon sight around Barcelona recently.

Sleep was what I sought during my long voyage home yesterday, although it proved as elusive for me as it has been for the tenants of that building in Barceloneta. Even so, some four thousand-plus miles later I’m safely back home on the farm, not a bad place at all to recuperate from such a long and intense trip.

The flights back were fine, although as I’d picked up some sort of sinus-related bug those last few days I wasn’t necessarily feeling my best near the end. In fact it still feels a little like I’ve got a cotton ball stuck in one ear, which is a little worrisome. But things are finally starting to loosen up I think, and I’ve got the requisite meds to get me back on the mend.

Wanted to doze during my trip home, but on the long flight from Barcelona to Philly I was seated next to an extremely chatty retiree on his way home after visiting a sibling in Spain. By the time we landed I knew most of the pertinent details of his lengthy biography, plus had received some advice about cooking for women. “It’s best to have a signature dish,” he explained, noting his was salmon with a side of asparagus.

“The key is the Hollandaise sauce.”

With my voice mostly shot from the sore throat, I confined myself to responding with eyebrow raises and nods. He also recommended Listerine for my cough. “Twice a day... will knock it right out.”

On the shorter flight home from Philly I did have a row to myself and stretched out a bit, although the pressure in my noggin’ made it impossible to sink into anything close to slumber.

What a start to the EPT season it was, really, with record-breaking fields all around and some genuinely interesting stories surrounding the event, including with the way the high rollers and Main played out. Malta comes up next in late October, and it’ll be interesting to see if the momentum continues there.

Meanwhile my momentum has slowed to a crawl. If you don’t mind, I’m just gonna put the seat back a little here and try to relax. You can keep talking, if you want.

EPT12 Barcelona, Day 12: A New Challenge

The last day of the EPT Barcelona festival -- originally 71 events, but with an added pot-limit razz (no shinola) up to 72 -- is today, with the Main Event just about to get started and the High Roller beginning shortly thereafter. Everyone is settling in for a long one, especially with regard to the High Roller in which 30 players are returning.

My focus (as usual) will be on the many side events yet to play out, with a number of turbos on the schedule today. However, I will be watching the EPT Live stream today and keeping an eye out for the Challenge Stapes segment, in which your humble scribbler may possibly make an appearance.

They came around the night before looking for volunteers, and when no one else came forward I decided to step up.

I came in early yesterday to help with the shooting of the segment, which like going on EPT Live the day before was interesting to witness, if only to marvel at how things are pulled together behind the scenes.

Not providing any spoilers here as yet regarding what the segment is about or where I fit into it. I was just an extra (natch) and am mostly on the periphery for Joe Stapleton's hijinks. Thankfully (because of my continued sore throat) I was not called upon to deliver any lines.

Check over at the PokerStars blog today for reports on everything, and check out the EPT Live show today as well for that Challenge Stapes segment.

EPT12 Barcelona, Day 7: Getting It In Bad

It was a fairly exciting final table yesterday in the Estrellas Barcelona Main Event, won in the end by Mario Lopez of Argentina. It’s the second time I’ve covered Lopez winning a big one, after his LAPT Chile win back in the spring of 2014.

The most interesting hand I saw yesterday involved Lopez making a huge call versus the young Jose Carlos Garcia, the young Polish player I mentioned a day ago as being unafraid to put a lot of chips in the middle with or without a hand.

In this case Garcia again made a huge overbet, shoving the river on a raggy board containing a jack, a nine, a couple of fives, and a trey (and no flush). The bet (a third postflop barrel) was about four times the pot, I believe, and more than what Lopez had left, but after tanking for five-plus minutes Lopez found a call with Q-9.

Garcia’s hand? 7-4-offsuit. He’d go out a little later in fourth.

Interestingly, all of the bustouts -- aside from Garcia’s and the final hand in which Lopez’s A-Q held against Jonn Forst’s A-6 -- featured players running into hard luck left and right.

One with A-K ran into both pocket aces and pocket kings. Pocket tens lost to pocket deuces. A-8 fell to A-7. You can read the end-of-day recap for details.

Weird, too, was how after Jonn Forst busted Knut Nystedt in third, Forst had exactly 41.1 million chips versus Lopez’s 40.9 million. They’d just colored up again and so the smallest chip was 100,000, so that meant Forst had the smallest possible lead to start heads-up play. (They did an even chop, with Lopez then winning the extra cabbage set aside.)

Back at it today as the EPT Barcelona Main Event continues, the one-day €25K High Roller plays out, and a few other side events are in action. Check the PokerStars blog for the skinny.

EPT12 Barcelona, Day 6: On Repetition, Patterns, and Learning

I’ve been living in a hotel room here in Barcelona for over a week now, and have nearly a week to go. It’s very comfortable, there’s a nice view off the balcony, and the breakfast buffet is quite good. It’s located close to the casino as well, which for me on these trips is probably the most important quality-of-life factor as I don’t have too worry too much about carving out time to get to and from my workplace.

Every morning I sleepily stumble into the bathroom, slapping the wall on my way in where three different light switches are location. A couple of them control lights in the bathroom -- I can’t remember which ones.

My first move, generally, is to turn on the shower. There are two rotating knobs on either side of a long cylinder. One of them switches the water flow from the shower head located above to the hand held one on the side, while the other controls the water temperature. I can never remember which controls which, nor which direction of twisting gets me hot or cold. Trial and error gets me to where I want to be, though, and I ready to step inside.

That’s when I invariably realize the floor mat -- new, and neatly folded each day -- is for some reason sitting inside the shower and thus has become soaked through. This I’ve now done every single day, failing over and over to learn the routines and procedures of those who maintain the place in which I am living.

There are other examples of my stubbornly refusing to learn about my habitation, knowing that it is temporary even though two weeks in the same place should be long enough to start absorbing information to help prevent repeating the same mistakes or general awkwardness. But really, I’m helpless. If I counted up the light switches in this room, I’d probably get to 15 at least. I still couldn’t tell you what half of them do.

Of course, I’m spending more time away from the space than inside of it, my workdays having lasted around 13-14 hours each day so far. Looking at being able to carve that back once the Estrellas Barcelona Main Event concludes today and I move back over to other events happening as the festival plays out.

They went from 98 all of the way down to eight last night, with the young, aggressive Polish player Jose Carlos Garcia being the center of attention for much of the day. Garcia was actually born in Spain, though moved to Poland as a child. He’s easily one of the more exciting players to watch, thanks both to the fact that he gets involved so frequently and the relentless pressure he puts on opponents when he does.

Garcia mixes up his play, too, though, making it hard for players to pick up on patterns and respond accordingly. But some have been able to teach themselves how to play back at him, demonstrating a greater capacity to learn than I have each morning in my hotel room.

Garcia got caught a couple of times today making big river bluffs and getting called, in both instances having made big bets on the end that required players to call off entire stacks. Once it was the Austrian, Jonn Forst, making the big call with two pair, and as a result he has the chip lead to start today’s final table. The Argentinian Mario Lopez -- whose LAPT win in Chile I covered a year-and-a-half ago -- is also still in the mix.

Go to the PokerStars blog to read updates of today’s finale. But you knew to do that. I mean we’ve been at this for more than a week now, right?

(Photo up top from the Casa Amatller in Barcelona.)

Chill Out Space

Am scribbling to you this afternoon from the balcony of my hotel room in Barcelona, looking out on what is now a clear blue sky after a morning and midday full of clouds and cold rain. A short, peaceful prelude to the frenzied fortnight to come.

The flight over was as easy as an eight-and-a-half-hour flight can be, I’d say, a mostly serene careening over the Atlantic and to the east coast of Spain. That to the left is from just before landing as we veered to the left into the Barcelona-El Prat Airport.

The seats were only around half-full, if that, meaning I was able to find my own row for added comfort. I might have taken advantage of the chance to stretch out and sleep, but instead managed to stay awake nearly the whole way watching first The Day the Earth Stood Still, then Mean Streets, then Caddyshack.

My ride was waiting for me and I had a fun conversation with my Spanish driver mostly about languages and the various challenges they present us. Arrived at my home-away-from-home for the next two weeks around eight a.m., which meant I was checking in around six hours ahead of the time my room would be ready.

As I mentioned, it was a gray day, and there was a steady rain outside dissuading me from doing too much walking about out of doors. I ended up having breakfast at the hotel, made a short saunter over to the casino during which I didn’t get too terribly soaked, then returned to the hotel and found a comfortable corner in a room designated the “Chill Out Space,” i.e., a business office with lots of couches and pillows where I managed to almost-relax for the remainder.

At last got into my room early afternoon, power napped for a couple of hours, and now am having an early room service dinner before I trot back over to the Casino Barcelona for this Neymar Jr Charity Tournament happening this evening. Check the PokerStars blog for a bit on that tonight, and keep it over there for full-blown coverage of the many side events including the Estrellas Main Event starting tomorrow.