Another week in Barcelona

My days here are mostly filled with running errands (they take so much more time here then you'd think was possible) and checking out the sites in Barcelona

On Wednesday I was on the far side of town when I got a message from Silvauna to meet her at the BMAC- but her phone was dying so she hoped I would come. I had no idea what the BMAC was, and I didn't notice her text for an hour, but I decided to try and jumped in the cab. Turns out BMAC is the Barcelona Museum of Art Contemporary (I always expect those to be MOCA's, hence my confusion). I got there and of course she was no where to be found, so I gave up and started to walk around more. As I was passing this cafe a gust of wind knocked down a sign and I took that as my cue to sit and get a glass of wine. Once I had ordered I heard an American voice and turned to look. It was my friend Dustin and his new girlfriend Marie. Quinky, so they invited me to join them. As we were talking all of a sudden Silvauna appeared in front of me. She was sitting two seats over having a glass of wine with her roommate Valentina (a lovely Italian girl).

She was trying to also get a hold of Miguel but since Silvauna's phone was dead she couldn't reach him. Dustin had the number, but he didn't answer. We gave up and went to the museum. Who was the last in line there- Miguel and his girlfriend Anna. Talk about timing.

After the museum we went for dinner. The place Miguel wanted to go had a 20 minute wait and it was cold and he had 4 hungry girls that were tired. I thought I knew where we were so they all followed me. As they were all following me I realized I had no idea where in the world I was, so I just picked a door and said, I think this place is good. Turns out it was and Dustin and Marie were there- double quinky dink. It was just like Tucson.

A couple afternoons later while doing some more exploring I stopped in a bar that was almost empty. I like them that way, but it quickly filled up with Brits. Ugh. Oh well, the bartender is nice and you have your book. Then an American man was ordering beer, the bartender asked him where he was from and he said Atlanta. I piped up, he may live in Atlanta but he's not from there. He was from Cleveland, but is now a pilot based in Atlanta. He was there with the airline crew on the Atlanta to Barcelona flight. So he invited me to dinner with the rest of the group.

The captain knew a place, that I have been trying to find again, but for the life of me can't. We arrived and the captain recieved a warm greeting from the owner. When it was mentioned that there were 8 of us the owner paused and then loudly exclaimed "UPSTAIRS!" while dramatically throwing his arms heavenward and we were ushered to a private room. This room was cool, I guess it had been used by a Catalyonian Rebel to plan his strategies, a little bit of history I wasn't expecting. The captain ordered for us- "Bring us wine and appetizers". (I should think of this when I can't read the menu). Dinner was easy to order- monkfish or lamb. I went with the monkfish. The captain told everyone who had ordered lamb to share their fried artichokes with the monkfish orderers because they were so delicious. But I noticed that they really didn't have that much on their plates, so as I was saying, they didn't have to share, I suddenly said "Wait!..." and I turned to the waiter and said "Bring us more artichokes!". Everyone at the table applauded and they were quickly brought out. Wine glasses were never empty and when one of the attendants and I went to have a cigarette in another private little room, the waiters made sure we had a bottle with us.

Then came desert, we ordered individual deserts, but they also brought us chocolate truffles and homemade donoughts, as if the huge servings weren't enough and as they were serving us they also brought champaigne that we didn't order. They filled each of our glasses and then started decanting another two bottles. My brain was screaming, you can't decant champange! I didn't notice that the decanter also had a spout and the owner was suddenly teaching us how to do champagne shots. It was a bit like Mexio and tequila shots, as they stood behind you and poured it straight into your mouth. Thankfully they did not shake our head or twirl you around on their shoulders. That's when, with the party was in full swing, some Spaniards sat down with us. It tooks us all a second as they just started drinking our wine and smoking cigarettes (which we had not been doing in the room). They had heard of this famous room and wanted to see it, so they just joined us. At that point it was a free for all anyway, with the owner and waiters all drinking champange and cognac with us, so what were two more?

The bill came and the cost? $40 euro a person. My God I love this city. So the group walked me home, oh those are some great pictures. I had never done more than nod at the armed guards outside the Catylonian capital, but according to the pictures they are more than happy to pose with drunk American women.

The crew said that usually crews were not this much fun and most people went their separate ways. I don't know if that's true or not, but I sure am glad that I found the crew that clicked and was open to the Catylonian way of dining.