The beaver is a proud and noble animal
Notes from a bemused canuck
Damian and I have been in Barcelona since Sunday. I love the food, but the eating schedule is kicking my ass. Having lunch at 1pm is late, but dinner at 830pm is a killer. And of course, even then, we’re the first ones there waiting for the restaurant to open. Silly guiri…
I now understand why, when a member of the Spanish Mafia comes back from a sojourn to the motherland, they eat salad for a week on their return to the UK.
Tonight’s dinner was a 7 course affair with enough booze to kill a horse. I had jamon and white asparagus, grilled prawns, octopus, croquetas, hake fillet with red peppers and a steak that was as big ad my face, then pudding. At one point the people around me were begging for a digestif to help them with the steak so the guys
out a liter of homemade Spanish grappa (which our group of alcoholics managed to polish off). That doesn’t even take into account the 1.5 liter bottles of red wine, nor the half dozen bottles of champagne.
Dinner started at 9pm and ended sometime after 1am. Excuse me while I go digest now…
You’re a lovely city, the weather is wonderful but please, enough already! All it seems I’ve been doing for the last 36 hours is eat and drink!!!!! You’ve been very good to not kill me with my allergies but that doesn’t mean you need to try with volume!