Aah, Barcelona! Cold shower, clean clothes, back outside, northward. Paul’s guidebook highlighted an affordable and tasty restaurant called 99.9% as 99.9% of their ingredients are said to be locally sourced.
We convinced ourselves that the remaining 0.1% was probably a toxic, addictive chemical but settled on finding the place and taking the risk. The plans, however, took a different form – many a kilometer passed underfoot with no such restaurant sightings and no apparent knowledge of its existence. And thus, we found ourselves outside the Mexican version of Spur, but with more beer and fewer children. Full colour pictures on the menu meant ordering was easy and staff-client misunderstandings were minimal.
Then tragedy struck – helpings were smaller than fairy food. Three mouthfuls and gone. Bellies still empty. A deep hatred for Mexico led us to China City Restaurant around the corner, where we filled up on rice and veggies and stuff and left loving the Chinese nation and their generosity.
After a slow walk and watching skateboarders leap and glide effortlessly in a square (which seemed to be, without a doubt, theirs after nightfall) we crashed and appreciated the joys of being horizontal after a day filled with the sadness of leaving Siena and the thrill of being in a new place with good friends and fine weather.
