Mexico City → Barcelona · Eixample Esquerra

Aug 13, 2023

1. Diary

   woke up to a cloudy sky. decided to take a walk before tackling the day. the doorman greeted me in catalan again. it’s funny how i still fumble through the basics.

   had a conference call with the team in the states. felt like i was talking to ghosts. the usual jargon – due diligence, synergies, etc. – doesn’t even register anymore. a blur of numbers and clauses.

   diana texted me about trying that new tapas place in the evening. she says it’s supposed to be amazing, but honestly, my mind is still on the last deal. can’t shake the feeling that we’re stuck in this expat bubble.

   tracked my billable hours. 9 today. feels like a game at this point. every hour counts.

   called my mom later. she pretended everything was fine, but i could tell she misses me. got off the phone feeling the weight again.

   diana’s looking at me with that slight frown. maybe i should prioritize more weekends away, find some wineries, clear our heads.

   the clouds opened up later, rain started pouring. it felt fitting. endings, beginnings, who knows.

Aug 23, 2023

1. Diary

   cloudy skies again. feels like the city is hiding something. decided to hit the office early — billable hours, you know. conference call dragged on, due diligence reports piling up. funny how they want everything yesterday.

   saw the doorman again, gave me that nod, spoke in catalan. tried to respond but tripped over my words. he smiled, probably amused. diana’s been unusually quiet lately. maybe she misses polanco more than she lets on. need to find time for a weekend trip, maybe the wineries in penedès will help.

   called my mom last night. she pretends to be indifferent to me being here, but there's a hint of something in her voice. just like her — never wants to admit to missing her son.

   the corporate lunch crowd feels oddly the same here. foreign professionals, all chasing deals, all the talk about mbo strategies. sometimes makes me feel like an outsider, even among them.

   the weather isn't changing, but maybe i am. or maybe not. it’s hard to tell.

Sep 15, 2023

1. Diary

   overcast sky today. feels heavy, like the air knows something i don’t.

   hit the office early — billable hours, you know. same conference call with the team in Madrid. rich guys throwing around numbers, while i’m just trying to keep up with the jargon. MBO, due diligence, pipeline. all that good stuff.

   diana’s been quieter lately. not sure if it’s the weather or something else. she says she misses the chaos of CDMX. i get it, but this place has its charms too, right?

   lunch was a corporate crowd. foreign pros, all discussing their next big deal over tapas. funny how they all seem to blend in the Eixample bubble. doorman greeted me again in catalan. tried to respond, fumbled my words.

   later called mom in Polanco. she pretended not to care about my move. talked about the markets instead.

   fingers crossed for a dry weekend ahead. thinking of hitting the wineries in Penedès to unwind.

Sep 18, 2023

1. Diary

   cloudy again. not surprising. feels like my mood mirrors the weather. dragged myself to the office early. billable hours, as usual. the conference call this morning was a rerun, same cast of characters. they just won’t stop talking about the merger like it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. if I hear “synergies” one more time, I might just lose it.

   diana’s been quieter than usual. thought we might go out for tapas, but she said she’s swamped with work. I get it, but still. it’s weird. I miss our normal back in polanco, you know? I called my mom last night. she was pretending not to care about me being here, but I could tell she’s still worried. it’s exhausting.

   caught up with a couple of colleagues for lunch. they’re all still adjusting, but it’s hard to bond over just “the deal.” the doorman smiled at me while I left; at least someone seems to find my attempts at catalan charming. maybe I’ll surprise diana with a weekend trip to the wineries. could be good for us. just need to shake off this gray vibe.

Oct 8, 2023

1. Diary

   another cloudy day. same old office grind. hit the tower early — billable hours won’t clock themselves. conference call felt like déjà vu. more due diligence, more big egos. sometimes i wonder if these rich guys even know what they’re buying.

   diana and i had a mini argument last night. she’s been off lately, maybe it’s the weather too. she misses her friends back home, or maybe she's just tired of this expat bubble. i try to reassure her — it’s only three years, right? but what if it turns into five?

   doorman reminded me in catalan to have a good day. always a bright spot, that guy. our neighbors are getting loud again, guess they weren’t deterred by the drizzle.

   i called my mom in polanco. acted all cool and indifferent, like leaving was no big deal. but i think she felt it. silence on the line was thick. she pretends it’s fine, but i know better.

   clouds don’t lift, but maybe they hide something good. another week ahead. let’s see how this one unfolds.

Oct 17, 2023

1. Diary

   cloudy again. feels like this place has a permanent filter. wanted to skip the office today, but you know how it is — billable hours wait for no one. hit the Eixample tower early, like a good corporate soldier. conference call was the usual parade of inflated egos. some guys just love the sound of their own voices.

   lunch with the corporate crowd. same chatter, different faces. they laughed way too hard at a mediocre joke. i just smiled, played the part. was it really this dull back in CDMX? sometimes i miss the chaos, the realness.

   diana sent a text that she’s heading to that new café around the corner. good for her, i guess. she seems a bit off lately. maybe it's just the transition — or maybe it’s me dragging my feet.

   wrapping up with more due diligence. can’t believe how time flies when you're buried under spreadsheets. another day in the bubble.

   weather's still heavy. the sky looks like it’s holding a grudge.

Nov 10, 2023

1. Diary

   another cloudy day. feels like a broken record. crawled into the office early, but not much to look forward to. billable hours? same old game. had a meeting with the M&A team — all was fine until Javier started bragging about his last deal. dude, we get it, you’re a hotshot.

   diana texted me that she’s feeling a bit lost. she misses the vibe in Polanco, the buzz of the city. can’t blame her. we’re both stuck in our own little expat bubble. talked briefly about weekend plans — maybe head to Penedès? get some wine and pretend we’re on vacation. sounds better than this dreary grind.

   some guy in the office keeps speaking Catalan to me. the doorman laughs every time I fumble. it’s like being in a sitcom.

   by mid-afternoon, I was in a daze. mind drifted to whether this 3-year posting could stretch to 5. how’s that for a career move?

   the sky is low. like everything else today.

Nov 28, 2023

1. Diary

   another cloudy day. hit the office early. the same old grind. billable hours still won’t clock themselves. conference call — more due diligence. felt like a rerun. big egos swinging. had lunch with a client — he ordered paella and made the usual jokes about “authenticity.” i just nodded, tried not to roll my eyes. ironic coming from a guy who does MBOs for breakfast. diana seemed off today, more than usual. asked if she liked her work. she said it’s fine. fine? what does that even mean? we talked about planning a weekend trip to the wineries in penedès. maybe that’ll help. the doorman at the office greeted me in catalan again. i responded awkwardly. feels like i’m living in a sitcom, but without the laughs. called my mom in polanco. she pretended not to care that i left. i can’t shake the feeling that this 3-year stint might become a 5. clouds never seem to clear.

Jan 4, 2024

1. Diary

   another cloudy day. surprise, surprise. the sky feels like a constant excuse for my mood. hit the office at the Eixample tower. same grind. prepared for a merger deal pitch — all flashy slides and charts that mean nothing to anyone except the suits. billable hours? yeah, still racking them up.

   lunch with the usual crowd of expats. corporate chatter. "how's the due diligence coming along?" — as if that matters more than the fact that my partner’s been feeling a little lost. gotta check in with diana tonight.

   thought about calling my mom. she pretends it's no big deal that I moved; still, I know she misses me. half of our chats are just her asking about the weather here, like that matters.

   another day, another round of caffeine. the doorman greeted me in catalan—always makes me chuckle, even if it’s a bit much. at least someone’s enjoying the gray skies. feels like I’m waiting for something to shift, but who knows?

Jan 15, 2024

1. Diary

   cloudy again. feels like a damn pattern. hit the office early, of course — 7:30 AM sharp. billable hours? barely scraping by. M&A meeting — all the usual suspects, big talk, bigger egos. had to push through a tedious update on the latest merger. missed a deadline? nothing new.

   Diana texted me during the call, asked if I’d be home for dinner. told her I might be late. ironic, right? another day of missed connections. she’s been quiet lately. I know she hates it here. but she won’t say it.

   ran into the doorman again — always greets me in Catalan, “Bon dia!” like I’m supposed to respond in kind. I just nod. don’t have the energy for a language lesson on top of everything else.

   wonder if this job will ever feel different, or if it’s just me. caught myself thinking about kids today. where would they fit into this mess?

   came home to a half-hearted dinner. we watched something mindless on Netflix. feels like we’re both living in slow motion. another cloudy day closing in.

Jan 19, 2024

1. Diary

   another gray day. feels like the sky's a permanent fixture. hit the office early again. 7:15 AM — always gotta beat the grind. got stuck in a meeting that felt like déjà vu. more talk about due diligence, merging egos, and ticking boxes. we’re all just spinning plates, aren’t we?

   the conference call went long. had to jump in with the usual corporate jargon. nothing new. just the same names, the same numbers. billable hours? ticking away like a badly tuned clock. finally managed to break free around 5 PM. decided to take a walk to clear my head.

   ran into the doorman who always greets me in Catalan. today, he gave me a nod, like we share some secret about this place. makes me wonder if I’m really fitting in or just playing the part.

   Diana texts me about dinner tonight. she’s been working remote, feeling a bit isolated. hope I can distract her. maybe a little wine, some laughs. I need to keep us afloat while the clouds keep hanging.

Feb 21, 2024

1. Diary

   another day, another gray sky. what a surprise.

   7:30 AM in the office. the Eixample tower looks just as uninspired as the weather. billable hours? still chasing. merger pitch went off without a hitch—clients nodding, all smiles. inside, i'm just rolling my eyes. same old dance.

   lunch with some new expats. they’re all discussing their weekend plans like it's an Olympic sport. vino in Penedès? muy cliché. meanwhile, Diana's stuck at home, juggling her projects. calls her later—she's not unhappy, just… not thrilled either.

   the doorman caught me on the way out. “bon dia!” with that Catalan accent. I half-smile. feels both comforting and isolating. I used to navigate Polanco with ease; now, I’m just a player in someone else's script.

   maybe tomorrow will bring some sun. but for now, it’s just… another gray Tuesday.

Mar 25, 2024

1. Diary

   another gray day. the clouds are relentless, like a bad sitcom. 7:30 AM. back at the office, same old routine. barely scraping by on billable hours, feels like i’m in a loop. mergers and acquisitions, the usual cast of characters — so predictable, yet they think they’re cutting-edge.

   had lunch with the foreign crowd again. they love to throw around buzzwords; it's all "synergy" and "value-add." makes me roll my eyes. everyone sipping overpriced wines and acting like they own the place. i miss the straightforwardness of the legal market back home — less fluff, more fire.

   diana said she felt a bit off lately. it’s hard to tell if it’s just the weather or something more. she’s been staring out the window a lot, maybe longing for something. can't blame her. i’m getting used to this expat bubble, but it’s stifling.

   remembered to call my mom in polanco. tried to sound casual, like leaving didn’t matter much. she played it cool, of course. i know she pretends she doesn't care, but i can hear it in her voice.

   the doorman greeted me in catalan again. i nodded, smiled. the routine is comforting, i guess. just wish the sky would change too.

May 8, 2024

1. Diary

   another gray day. what a shocker. 7:30 AM in the office. walked in and the doorman greeted me in his usual Catalan, like a broken record. made it to the desk, coffee in hand.

   billable hours? still a grind. weird pitch yesterday. client was all about ‘synergy’—such corporate jargon. had to bite my tongue not to roll my eyes. can we escape this buzzword hell?

   Diana called during the lunch break. she sounded off. asked about weekend plans. winery run in Penedès? she’s hesitant. maybe she misses the chaos of CDMX?

   met with the team after. another session of due diligence. everyone’s just going through the motions. it’s like we’re living in a loop of paperwork and endless meetings.

   the sky’s one big gray blanket. feels like it’s smothering us.

May 25, 2024

1. Diary

   7:30 AM. another gray day. the Eixample tower looming like a sad monument to my mornings. billable hours still a chase. merger pitch this week — more like pulling teeth than an art. Diana says I need a break. she’s right, pero ¿qué tal si no?

   office crowd still the same — foreign pros with their “synergies” and “value-added solutions.” can’t tell who’s more exhausted: them or me. slipped into a meeting, felt like déjà vu, same slides, same awkward smiles.

   called mom last night. she pretended not to care about my move, but I could hear it in her voice. ¿por qué no te quedaste en Polanco? cada vez que llamo, siento que estoy en un reality show — all scripted.

   gotta get out this weekend. thinking about wineries in Penedès again. maybe some sun will break through this relentless gray. but then again, it’s just another gray day.

Jun 14, 2024

1. Diary

   7:30 AM. another gray day. caught in the loop again. same office, same coffee machine, same tired faces. doorman’s Catalan feels like it’s stuck on repeat.

   walked in with a headache from last night’s wine. too much laughter, too little sleep. Diana’s been feeling it too — the monotony. told her we should do something spontaneous, but she just rolled her eyes.

   merger due diligence is dragging. three weeks in and i still don’t get the numbers. feels like our Spanish counterparts are playing chess while i’m stuck at checkers.

   called my mom in Polanco; she pretended not to care about the distance. her voice was distant. the same old “cómo te va?” I know she means well, but it feels like a script.

   mentally tracking hours. today’s billables won’t be pretty. dreaming of weekends in Penedès — vineyards, fresh air — instead of this gray prison. need to escape, recharge. but for now, stuck here with my thoughts and the endless ticking of the clock.

Aug 17, 2024

1. Diary

   7:30 AM. another gray day. Eixample tower stands still, a concrete reminder of the endless loop. coffee in hand, I greet the doorman. his Catalan is as lively as yesterday's news.

   billable hours? still a blur. another merger pitch coming up. feeling like a hamster in a wheel. no sense of art in it anymore. just numbers, meetings, endless contracts.

   Diana's been quiet lately. asked if she’s okay — she shrugged it off. I can see it in her eyes. sometimes, the expat life feels like a glittering cage.

   thought about calling my mom. she’d probably pretend it doesn't bother her that I’m gone. Polanco feels like a lifetime ago.

   this weekend? wineries in Penedès again? might loosen up the routine, if only for a moment. but who's counting the hours? not me, right?

Sep 2, 2024

1. Diary

   7:30 AM. another gray day. Eixample tower looms — feels like it's watching me. meetings stacking like dishes in the sink. merger pitch still a mess — just want to get it over with. billable hours creeping up, but morale? seems like it’s at an all-time low.

   Diana mentioned feeling a bit stifled. we talked about it over dinner. she’s missing the buzz of Polanco, I think. can’t blame her. even the corporate lunch crowd is the same — foreign professionals with their polished accents and empty small talk. tried to connect, but it’s like speaking different languages.

   office espresso was burnt again. great. caffeine fix turned sour. doorman’s Catalan? stuck in my head like a bad tune. I answered "bon dia" back, just out of habit. still learning, I guess.

   thought about calling my mom — asked if she’d seen anything interesting on TV lately. she pretended to be busy. always does. feel like she thinks I made a mistake. I’m not even sure anymore.

   it’s just another gray day.

Sep 9, 2024

1. Diary

   gray day again. woke up to the same overcast gloom. Eixample tower feels heavier, a solid block of concrete. the coffee machine? still broken. had to put in a request again. billable hours stacking, but the merger pitch is still a tangled mess.

   had lunch with some colleagues — same crowd, different table. boring talk about valuations and market trends. kept thinking about whether they even know what’s happening in the real world outside these walls. Diana’s been quieter lately. she says she’s fine, but you can tell when she’s just being polite.

   called my mom later. she pretended not to care about my life here. heard the same old “ya no te extraño” line. sometimes, I think she enjoys reminding me that I left.

   the doorman laughed at my Catalan today, said my accent needs work. I can’t help but wonder if he’s right.

   evening rolls in, the gray deepening. feels like time’s stuck.

Sep 20, 2024

1. Diary

   gray day continues. Eixample tower is just an extension of the clouds now. coffee? terrible. spilled half of it down my shirt before catching the train. good start, right?

   meetings all day. MBO discussions feel like running in circles. can't get a straight answer. just numbers tossed around, no real substance.

   Diana sent me a meme about expat life — “when you realize ‘mañana’ is actually ‘never.’” made me chuckle. but seriously, she’s a bit tense lately. need to take her out this weekend, maybe Penedès? wine helps everything.

   mom called last night. pretended to be too busy to care about my life changes, but I could hear her worry.

   dropped by the market after work. same old. the vendor threw in a few extra tomatoes. I don’t even think he remembers me. I’ll take it.

   need to check on the merger details again. one step forward, two steps back. should’ve stayed in Polanco.

   now, to brace for tomorrow — another gray day waiting.

Sep 29, 2024

1. Diary

   another gray day. spectacularly uninspired. Eixample tower still looms. meetings this week? a mess. merger pitch? unholy chaos. bickering over details, like kids on a playground.

   Diana asked about plans for the weekend. wineries again? sounds decent. could use a break from this eternal gray. she’s been quieter lately. maybe it's just the weather — or maybe it's something else.

   billable hours stacking up. got to hit the targets, keep the bosses happy. but at what cost?

   called my mom last night. she pretended everything’s fine. “¿y tú? ya te acostumbraste, ¿verdad?” sure, mom. each time I say yes, it feels less true.

   the doorman greeted me in Catalan again, smiled. that small moment feels like an anchor.

   as I sit in this cramped café, I can hear a couple next to me arguing in English. what are they even fighting about? the coffee? the weather? it’s all noise, really. just like this city sometimes.

Oct 1, 2024

1. Diary

   the gray persists. woke up to the same thick blanket of clouds. Eixample tower still feels like a weight on my chest. coffee machine? still dead. had to go down to the café. overpriced, mediocre coffee. lady behind the counter looked at me like i was asking for gold.

   met with clients today — some foreign investment group, couldn’t tell them apart. typical deal structure, but they wanted everything yesterday. spent the afternoon chasing due diligence documents.

   Diana texted during a boring conference call — asked if we could go to that new tapas place next week. promised her i’d make the time, but who knows?

   thought about calling my mom later. she pretends not to care, but i know she does. “¿ya te acostumbraste?” she asks like it’s a game.

   another day, another gray.

Oct 4, 2024

1. Diary

   gray again. woke up to the same heavy sky. can’t remember the last time i saw the sun.

   office? just a grind. meetings dragging on, all the same faces - different frowns. pitched the deal to the board. they were just as enthusiastic as wet cardboard.

   Diana? she’s been quiet. noticed her scrolling through photos of Polanco. thought about it too. why did we think this glam expat life would be better?

   got caught in the rain on the way back. no umbrella. just me and my soggy suit. Eixample tower looked darker. like it’s mocking me. the doorman greeted me. “bona tarda.” i laughed. at least he seems happy.

   counted hours today: 11.5 billable. didn’t even feel it. just noise. thinking about Penedès this weekend. hopefully, it won’t be gray.

Nov 20, 2024

1. Diary

   gray again. woke up to the same thick blanket. Eixample tower? still looming.

   a day filled with endless calls. project deadline creeping up. due diligence details – don't even get me started. everyone’s on edge.

   Diana? she’s been quieter lately. maybe it's the weather. or maybe it’s just us. weekends seem to come and go, but we’re still stuck in this loop.

   strolled through Eixample after work. doorman waved, “bona tarda!” – his Catalan always catches me off guard. that little moment reminded me of the life we chose.

   the café on the corner? packed again. foreign voices everywhere. felt like an outsider, even among the crowd.

   called mom in Polanco. talked about the weather there - the sun shining, as usual. pretended not to care about my life here.

   billable hours? creeping up. but I’m still trying to figure out if this place is changing me.

Dec 5, 2024

1. Diary

   another day, another layer of gray. woke up to the same oppressive clouds, like they're trying to smother any good vibes. Eixample? still that concrete behemoth.

   had a meeting with the team – all the usual suspects. can't remember the last time anyone cracked a smile. lunch? just sat there with the corporate crowd, didn't even bother with small talk.

   Diana's been quieter lately. sensed her irritation when I mentioned a weekend trip to the wineries. told her it might lift our spirits, but she rolled her eyes. "more of the same," she said.

   at least the doorman greeted me in Catalan again. nice touch, even if it feels like a reminder of how little I grasp the local culture.

   counted billable hours – 8 today. still feels like I'm stuck in a loop. when did I stop caring about the work? or is it just this city wearing me down?

   the gray hangs like a weight, pressing down.

Dec 13, 2024

1. Diary

   gray again. woke up to the same heavy clouds, but this time they were different. a thick fog—can’t see the Eixample tower from the window. weirdly cozy though, like a blanket.

   office? another slog through calls. yesterday’s deadline came and went. did i even submit the documents? probably. it’s all a blur. mercedes from the legal team asked about the MBO structure and i just smiled. fake it till you make it, right?

   diana's been quiet lately. something in her eyes when she talks about work. she loves her job, but i can tell she misses the buzz of CDMX. calls to my mother? her usual act of indifference. just more proof that distance changes things.

   thinking again about the future. is this three-year posting really worth it? if we stay five years, will she be happier? questions gnawing at me like insects. but there's wine in Penedès this weekend.

   still gray. the fog holding on, like it’s the end of something.

Jan 1, 2025

1. Diary

   woke up to 2025 and guess what? still gray. same fog, same heaviness. can’t see the office tower. it’s like the city is stuck in a loop. office email pinging like crazy, year-end reports piling up. had a chat with Diana about the future. she’s pushing for a trip to somewhere sunny. honestly, can’t blame her.

   calls with clients in the US, all “let’s push this deal through by EOY.” like their deadlines matter more than our sanity. billable hours ticking down. felt like a hamster in a wheel today. did manage to sneak in lunch at that new fusion place—decent tacos, for what it’s worth.

   the doorman greeted me in Catalan, of course. feels like a little ritual now. still don’t think I’ll ever master that language. mom called later, said she was fine, which means she’s not. Polanco has its charm, but I’m here.

   another day, another year. will see how this one goes.

Jan 14, 2025

1. Diary

   another gray morning. woke up to the same suffocating clouds, just another day in this concrete jungle. finally got a glimpse of the Eixample tower—looks like it’s shrinking from all this gloom.

   met with the team about the new merger. they had this energy, all hype and buzzwords. meanwhile, i’m just there, clocking hours, nodding. deal structure discussions—yawn. at least the coffee was strong.

   Diana texted me during a break, something about looking for new plants to liven up our apartment. i can’t help but smile. we need more green. reminded me of our weekend in Penedès—sunshine, good wine. was a different life, even if just for a couple of days.

   called my mom in Polanco. she pretends she’s fine with me being here, but i know she misses me. she’s not the type to say it outright, so we just talk about the weather.

   the doorman was in a good mood, gave me a casual "bon dia" in Catalan. i’m starting to respond automatically—probably a sign of Barcelona creeping into my skin.

   as evening falls, the gray seems heavier. feels like it’s settling in for the long haul. just like me, i guess.

Feb 19, 2025

1. Diary

   gray again. woke up and can’t see a thing. fog like a wall. cozy, yes, but exhausting. work emails piling up. M&A deal needs a push. another round of due diligence waiting.

   Diana made café de olla this morning. a little sweet comfort on a bleak day. she smiled, but I could see the weight. talked about wanting to visit Penedès soon—escape this gray.

   the doorman greeted me with a “bona dia” today. thought it was funny how that little spark of Catalan breaks the dullness outside.

   billable hours creeping up—told the team to keep the MBO close. review meeting tomorrow.

   sometimes wonder if this fog is me. stuck. hoping for a change. rain starts falling.

Feb 27, 2025

1. Diary

   woke up to more gray. the fog thick enough to cut with a knife. could barely see the street outside. office is a mess—another deal coming down the pipeline. billable hours slipping through fingers like sand.

   emails piling up, clients wanting updates. one of them is that idiot from the NY office. always so entitled. "where's my report?" like he’s the center of the universe.

   spent some time on the phone with my mom. she pretended not to care about me being here, just asking about the weather. “¿ya te acostumbraste?” always the same.

   diana seems off again. asked if she wanted to go out, have a drink. she said she was tired. i get it, but still. i miss the nights when we could just laugh at the world.

   the doorman greeted me today—“bon dia” with that smile. small things, but they make this place feel like it has a pulse. or maybe it just feels like home for a moment.

   gray clouds keep dragging on. feels endless.