As I close my eyes and picture myself being transported, I can feel the tingle of excitement down my spine. I’ve been here before, part of a weeks vacation for a 40th birthday celebration. The air is both full of the smell and the noise of a cosmopolitan city. The sun is shining, it’s shorts and T-shirt weather. As the familiar building comes into view, I’m struck by the architectural resemblance to the Scottish Parliament building back home. I can see the doors are open and notice a sense of relief pass through me as I acknowledge I’ve not messed up on the strange european opening times.
As I walk through doors the air gets noticeably cooler. I’ve a tough decision to make do I turn left to marvel at the fruit and veg stands and partake in a fruit smoothie, do I continue through to the open fish counters or do I turn right and perch myself at one of the open eateries where taking part in the bar camaraderie is a way of life rather than a holiday luxury.
I choose to sit at the bar, I order a small beer and a bowl of olives and pause for a moment. Something isn’t right. The moment needs to be shared, I’m not looking for nostalgia or longing here. I close my eyes once more and this time when I open them I find my wife staring at me with a glass in hand, wondering where I’d been for a second. I assured her that everything was just fine now. The beer cold and refreshing and the olives sweet to the bite much better shared in company.
To the task in hand, armed with our pigeon Spanish we set about gathering the ingredients for an evening meal. We both look around marvelling at our good fortune to be able to explore and buy the ingredients for our evening meal. The difficulty being what not to buy as the choice is so great. In the end we settle on the ingredients for a Paella, the pull of the fish to great to ignore.
Thanks to @writing101 for taking me back to Barcelona