A Phone-Free Zone

Which isn't to say phones are not allowed at Barceloneta. That would be nice.

Classica en la Playa. They mounted a huge stage, screens and speakers across the entire beach strip for a couple of days to play classical music. Incredible stuff.

Traveling alone, you learn to take precautions, and while I realize no one's after my deadbeat cracked old phone, it's still a lifeline while traveling, so I don't like to endanger it needlessly. Part of my reason for seeking out accommodation near the beach was that I could walk to and fro easily without needing Google Maps or to pay for transportation.

It's okay. I've got a good head on my shoulders and generally orient myself in space pretty well. Leave me in a city 30 minutes, and I'm walking around like I was born there. It's a good skill when you travel a fair bit.

I wasn't in the city an hour before I'd abandoned all connection to my home life and went to explore the beaches, my haven.

Of course, the beaches are full of people glued to their phones. Whether in groups or alone, except no one's alone anymore because they've got their trustly little tinderbox ever handy. Having assessed the overall safety of the beach the first few days, I knew it'd be totally safe to take mine with me and not worry about forsaking it on the sand for an hour while I'm swimming.

Except... I started liking the reprieve.

I liked knowing that for 2-3 hours each day, I couldn't reach into my bag and pull out ole faithful. Google random shit. Check messages. I liked being out of reach. In the early days of my trip, I'd submitted a story for publication on Medium. While I was in the water, I remembered I hadn't deleted a note another publication had left on it (rejecting it). I worried, I thought it'd be crass towards the new pub. But there was nothing I could do about it. I was far out. IN the water. And my phone was all the way up here. By the time I got home, it had already been published. Now imagine I'd wasted 3 minutes on the sand making a change that didn't need making.

Being phoneless has given me a chance to think, but also to stop thinking. One of my favorite things to do when traveling to a beach town is to lose myself in books. It's not always great books. Sometimes it's random books I find either at home or where I'm staying. Beach reads. Tourism books. I mentioned Colm Toibin's Homage to Barcelona. Fantastic. Really let me sink into the spirit of the city, and gave me an appreciation for where I was. These past few days, I've been sinking my teeth into a small treasure trove of John Osborne plays I found at a second-hand bookstore.

Not his greatest, though certainly not his worst. Stuff I don't think I would've focused on so well with my phone present though. Like who has time to wrap their heads around where which door is and what it symbolizes when your Whatsapp's buzzing for some reason?

Basically, a lot of the things I felt inclined to ponder were stemming in some way from my phone. Connections, conversations. Being able to leave that physically behind also gave me mental space. To say "okay, we'll deal with that later. It's not here now. There's nothing I can do".

It's a trick. It's not an easy trick, especially if you're not a patient person. But it's so damn powerful if you can master it.

I did take my phone down to the beach with me last night, though I wasn't planning to swim. Just lie on the sand and stare at the stars. I wanted to listen to music. That's the one bad thing about not having my phone. I have to keep the music and the poetry in my head. And sometimes, it's nice to have company.