9 December 2021
We wake up late. No gym. So this is Barcelona time.
A quick stop at Satan’s. Cortado’s, many. Omurice for breakfast.
Walking the streets. I get my watch.
A late lunch that is also dinner at Tapeo. The food is excellent.
Fried anchovies. Iberian pork ribs. Squid stuffed with vegetables. Sausage cannelloni with mushrooms.
No wine. Water. Not a local.
The tapas bar is empty. Only two locals.
One other couple.
She is American. I know this because in a place with no people she is shouting. Not angry. Everything she says is broadcast into the room. The man she is with has normal volume. Who is she talking to?
She has much to offer on every subject. Here is what the entire bar learnt.
She is well-travelled, knows much. Coffee is less expensive in Barcelona than in Vienna. As are the pastries. She went to a gallery in Canada and did not like it. The brand Von Dutch, popular years ago, she knows the designer. She owns an original artwork by him.
On food. To el camarero, ‘do you have padrón peppers?’
‘Really! All tapas bars should have them!’
‘Si, hoy no’
'Does the cream desert have fruit? I won't eat it if it has fruit!'
'No, no fruit'
'You know this desert is ok. Not great, but better than I thought it would be! If those kids outside are hungry, they should come in. This place is better than I thought!'
And on it goes.
Not all Americans are loud. I know one. Joe Bidwell. He is quiet, deep thinking.
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