First full day back in Barcelona completed successfully, and the apprehension of yesterday seems completely unfounded.
I was toasty and warm last night in bed, my marmite eating has resumed and as yet I’ve heard not a peep from the Man Who Lives Upstairs. A parrot has even found its way into my bedroom. Nonetheless, an adventure has yet to cross my path, and I must revert to prior escapades in order to entertain you, dear readers. Prior escapades that I will tenuously link to Barcelona, in a vague attempt to make this post in some way relevant.
So the other day I was lucky enough to be invited to Bilbao. Not only invited to see the city, but to see an art exhibition and eat in a fancy restaurant. The kind of restaurant where the tapas have dry ice smoke billowing out of them for no apparent reason. Understandably I think, I was nervous about what the meal might have to offer me. It turned out to be delicious, although it amplified my impression that the part of the holidays I spent in Spain was a drawn out version of a feast in the court of Henry VIII.
I don’t think I have ever eaten so many different animals in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t so much the quantity, but the variety. Pigs, cows, lambs, chickens, tiny birds- possibly quails or partridges, squid, mussels, assorted fish. None were spared. Aside from my other new years resolutions (sleep at reasonable hours, write a bit everyday, actually use the running shoes I bought last year), I might have to cut down on my meat eating antics in a ceasefire with my consumption of the animal kingdom. At least for the rest of the month, anyway.
Still, this evening will bring if not an adventure, then hopefully an interesting tale. A Genuine Catalan Popstar is coming to my house for dinner tonight, and I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes. Will he throw about any diva-like demands? Will he bring along any groupies? And most importantly, will he enjoy my mushroom soup? Find out tomorrow!