I forgot how many people ride public transportation in and out of Barcelona every day at rush hour. I have the luxury of setting my own timetable so I never have a problem finding a seat on the train. But this morning I was to begin shooting another marketing video for HP so I had to arrive first thing in the morning. I should have taken the hint and turned around and gone home when my normally 15-minute morning bus ride turned into an hour-long ordeal in the windy torrential downpour.
But I eventually made it to the train station and hopped aboard the next Sant Cugat-bound train only to find myself sandwiched amongst the aforementioned rush-hour commuters. I luckily found a seat just as we were leaving Sant Gervasi and headed through the tunnel under Tibidabo north of the city. With my umbrella still dripping on the floor between my legs, my jaw dropped at the other-worldy sight outside the window that met us upon exiting the tunnel on the other side of the mountain. The entire landscape was covered in snow. And not just a little snow. A lot of snow. And it was still coming down. Was it ever coming down! Snowflakes as large as my fist.
Being from New York, I am not unaccustomed to the occasional snow storm. But I now live in Barcelona. Spain. On the Mediterranean Sea. It doesn’t snow in Barcelona. At least it hadn’t snowed like this for the past 12 years that I have been living here. And, according to many grandmas who were later interviewed on the news, it hadn’t snowed like this in Barcelona… ever!
The snow outside the train was impressive. But the proceeding events inside the train were even more wonderful. Everyone, like myself, couldn’t help but stare outside at the unprecedented winter wonderland. People put down their books, took off their headphones, and they smiled at the snow. And then, myself included, the people on the train began looking around at the random strangers sitting across from them and smiling at them. Without saying a word. And then they’d try to catch the eye of someone sitting across the aisle so they could smile at them, too, as if to say, “Can you believe this? Isn’t this amazing what we’re sharing? Have you ever seen anything like this before?” And a general feeling of magic and joy swept through the train. There was an eight year-old boy sitting not far from me who had apparently never seen snow before in his life. He was elated.
So I got to work and everyone was still smiling at everyone else and giggling and pointing at the snow on the palm trees. I went to the Demo Center, met the film crew, and began my job for the day. The HP Demo Center is tucked away in the back of the HP building. There are no windows there so we weren’t able to enjoy the gradual accumulation of snow banks over the course of the next few hours. Nor were we able to appreciate how the rate of snowfall was markedly increasing.
At 11am everyone in HP received an email saying, “Due to today’s extraordinary weather conditions, the Security and Health and Safety departments are recommending all HP Barcelona site workers to leave the site no later than 4:00pm. According to the official local weather forecast, snow will continue to fall during the rest of the day and temperatures will decrease considerably with the consequent risk of ice.” We just kept shooting.
At 2pm we all received another email saying, “The Security department has just received a new weather forecast informing that it will snow even more heavily for the rest of the afternoon and will last until dawn. It would be appreciated if you could stagger your departure to avoid later congestion.” We just kept shooting.
At 4pm we decided to take a look outside. On our way to the front door, we passed through an eerie haunted ghost town. I could have sworn the European marketing department was there this morning. Sure enough, the snow had blanketed everything as far as the eye could see. And almost everyone from HP – almost every one of its 2000 employees – had already gone home. Curious.
We were scheduled to stay on site and shoot until at least 8pm. That was to be day one of a full two-day shoot. Today, the printer look a lot longer to warm up than expected. The lights reflected in the printer’s steel chassis a lot more than expected. The batteries in the cordless mic didn’t last as long as expected. We still had a lot of work left. And so we decided to stay a little longer and shoot some more.
It was soon thereafter that the rumors started to roll in. Did you hear? A tree fell on the train tracks and they’re no longer running to Barcelona! No taxis are running! The tunnels from here to Barcelona have all been closed! The highway that runs around the mountain on its way to Barcelona is at a complete standstill and has been for hours. It was time to check Facebook.
Every single one of my Barcelona friends had either left a snow-related status update or uploaded some amazing “Barcelona in the midst of it’s first snow storm” photos. Or both.
from Val
Juls noted how her husband, Joan, had left work in Sant Cugat at 3pm and was still stuck in his car on the highway at 7pm. Any other day, this is a 25-minute drive.
What to do?
The film crew supposedly had a van on its way to pick them up and chauffeur them back to Barcelona. They offered to take me. I wasn’t so sure. So I called Joan.
Joan was still stuck in his car. Only 500 meters closer to home than he was an hour earlier. It had now been over four hours since he left work. Having nothing else to do, he had been listening to the radio for hours and was able to confirm for us that the trains had, in fact, all stopped; the taxis were not running; the tunnels were all closed; and the highways were all at an infuriating standstill. He calculated that, if I was lucky, I would arrive home by 1am. I thanked him and promptly decided, much to the surprise of the film crew, to spend the night at HP. It was warm, I had internet access, the vending machine had sandwiches, and I am capable of sleeping anywhere and under any conditions. Though not my first choice, I would be just fine. And I would already be there in the morning when I was definitely going to be needed again for the mandatory second day of the shoot. Genius!
Then the van arrived. The driver said that the road conditions were improving. And that the tunnels may be re-opening. I was torn. This was now a grueling exercise in probability and chance. I did the needed calculations and begrudgingly agreed to go with them in their van. Seeing my family was the motivating factor that eventually forced my hand.
from Sheri
Seven of us got into the van with tinted windows and, surprisingly, no back seats. It felt like we were being smuggled across the border to some unknown and dangerous country. The roads were slippery but manageable. We had to drop off the director at his hotel in a nearby village before trying our luck on the now-infamous highway. Mission accomplished and off we went to… wait a minute, where are we going? What? Another stop? Your sister’s house? We were all now standing on the snowy street, freezing, socks soaking. The crew spontaneously decided that the roads were too dangerous and that it was illegal to ride in the back of a van with no seats anyway. What?! Why the hell did you convince me to leave the warm confines of my office? I could have easily slept under my desk and been happy!
It was 9pm. And it was cold. The van left for Barcelona with two brave people in the front seat as if to discover if the world was really flat. And we were left standing outside the camera operator’s sister’s house in a village a few miles away from HP. The sister called hotel after hotel and they were all completely booked. People had apparently started to abandon their cars on the roads and seek shelter for the night. This girl’s apartment was too small for all of us so, instead of just standing around and complaining for hours on end in the frickin snow, which is what I was convinced was this group’s plan all along, I took change and commanded the two girls among us to stay at the sister’s house while the brother, the two other guys, and I took the sister’s car in search of a hotel. We started driving (slipping around actually) when the sister called and said that she had found us a hotel. And it was right next to HP!! We headed for the hotel. The sister called back. There was a mistake and there were no more free rooms. We started driving again. The sister called once more. There was another mistake and there really were two rooms left and they were now reserved under our names.
It was 10pm. Tired and hungry and sick of riding this freezing-cold roller coaster any longer, we ignored all traffic safety rules and raced to the hotel.
Four stars 
The check in clerks were major jerks 
But it was paid for by the company
There was at least a half hour wait at the restaurant
I got my own room
The heating didn’t work
The WiFi was free
The WiFi was slow
The dinner and drinks (also paid for by the company) were more expensive than I would normally pay for
The food was mediocre 
And here I am. 2am. Fed. Showered. Tired. Only ten minutes away from HP. Signing my own death warrant by writing this absurdly long blog entry instead of getting a much-needed good night’s sleep. They say it will be sunny tomorrow. And very very cold.
Joan arrived home safely at 9:30pm.
See you in the theatre!
