Photo credit: Carol Madigan

   Carol had already outlined what our first full day in Barcelona would consist of. Plaza Catalunya was the premier square of the city, and La Rambla the famous promenade and commercial strip that begins at the plaza and ends at the marina. It was a walking tour, and while Carol looks for things of interest to see, I look for seats of interest to sit. There were plenty of both and we were totally in sync. 

“Another argument ensued about the bill, the woman insisting she was quoted five euros, instead of the 15 she was being charged. It struck me that you should be able to tell the difference between a five euro dish and a 15, and the woman was clearly trying to complete a 10 euro grift.”

   Carol and I have been traveling together for almost five years now, and we seem to have hit upon a balance for her to see everything she wants, and for me to sit as often as I wish. There are a few things we both enjoy equally, and one of them is covered fresh markets. The Mercat St. Josep, along the Rambla, sucked us both in. Occasionally, a shop might offer a sample nibble of their wares, but here we found many stalls with paper cones filled with meats, cheeses and fried seafood. We grabbed a couple of cones and a mini-baguette and found a quiet bar outside the market where we’d wash it all down with a cold beer and an orange juice.

   My first official sit came later, when Carol learned she could still buy a ticket to a Gaudi museum a little farther down from the market. While Carol toured, I found a café where I felt my waiter had taken an instinctive dislike of me. I soon observed why that might have been. An American sounding woman was arguing with a fellow waiter, at one point abruptly leaving her table. She returned, and I noticed her eating a bowl of something. Another argument ensued about the bill, the woman insisting she was quoted five euros, instead of the 15 she was being charged. It struck me that you should be able to tell the difference between a five euro dish and a 15, and the woman was clearly trying to complete a 10 euro grift. I had a new understanding for my waiter’s slight condescension toward me, and I tipped him well upon leaving.

   We made it the full distance of the promenade, and at the marina, Carol spotted a catamaran offering a tour of the harbor. She thought it was a different way to see the city, and I noted a well-stocked bar aboard and a different way to sit in the citu. An electric guitarist played familiar American tunes and the sangria, and white wines were only four euros each. We were very happy.

   I’d been hankering for a good steak, and Carol dutifully found a good steak joint walking distance from our apartment. We arrived early for our reservation – 24 hours early to be exact. But in what we would continue to discover what I now call Iberian hospitality, they were able to accommodate us, and we enjoyed a great steak and salmon dinner.

   We grabbed a cab back to the apartment (7 euros). It marked the beginning of us using the ubiquitous and affordable taxi networks for the remainder of our upcoming visits to Madrid, Seville and Lisbon, adding a certain level of effete elitism to our ground transportation needs. But if you’re already staying in a 2-bedroom apartment with a balcony overlooking a bakery, and are still losing your way around three days into your stay, I think effete elitism has already infected your travels. Harumph!