Shadows In The Noche

Today is All Saints Day, and most of Barcelona took it seriously (i.e., a lot of places were closed).  However, I managed to eat very well all the same.  My inagural day back on Catalan soil included a pasta lunch of stuffed tortellini'ish configurations with pear and ricotta dressed in a light cream sauce with mushrooms (a Barcelona speciality it seems to be) and scallions.  For dinner, I sailed full steam ahead into a paella marinera.  It was full of lobster, shrimp, clams, mussels and white fish.  On both occasions, I augmented the meal with vino tinto in the crianza variety, which, to me has all of the qualities of a petite syrah and the bite without the mouthiness of a cab.

I cruised on foot my favorite sections of town and made some new friends along the way.  I kicked my feet up on a park bench for a while and made the acquaintance of an Italian photographer who spoke Spanish as well as very good English.  Encounters of this multi-lingual disposition continue to result in me becoming more and more mute as the conversation continues and my gestures become grander and grander.  This gentleman asked me twice if I liked the theater (as an indirect response to my vibrant gesturing).  Similarly, for as common a name as "Carmen" is in Spain, it becomes more and more foreign to me...perhaps the excessive rolling of the "r" or the inevitable high rising of eyebrows when I legitimately share that my name is Carmen; it's resulting in a unique case of identity examination (not to be exchanged for crisis).

I stole into the men's room after dinner tonight because women (in any part of the world, apparently) take an interminably long time.  I was totally bemused with the dispenser on location in said men's room.  It wasn't condoms but toothbrushes--a prophylactic in and of its own right, I suppose.

I've developed a serious case of camera finger when it comes to beautiful buildings (and they abound).  This was just a nice facade.

The marionette man was in full swing on La Rambla today.  His kiosk neighbor was a pet store of sorts which I found somewhat perplexing.  Ostensibly, those cruising La Rambla are visitors, but these folks were selling birds and vermin (e.g., hamsters, guinea pigs and gerbils).  In fact, the family across the sidewalk from me at lunch plopped their plastic cage containing one squirmy mouse-like pet-to-be on the table like it was a regular basket of bread.  I had finished eating which I considered buena suerte.