Where You Going?
Enough Sondheim referencing. I’m in Barcelone for the weekend for several reasons. Making myself stop work. Blue skies. Jamon Iberico. The Rambla at Catalunya. Gaudi. Oh, and I’m getting my neighbour Shelley Von Strunckel some Marcona almonds from the Boqueria market, which has been here since medieval times. Since I was last here they’ve installed little yellow buggies that take you around town – handy for shopping.
But what I love about the post-Franco reinvention of ‘moderniste’ Spain is the attitude. As we checked into the hotel, the receptionist’s opening line was ‘Who do I kill?’
I said, ‘Sorry?’
He said ‘Someone has given you a double bed. Would you like two?’
I looked at my partner and said ‘No.’
To which the receptionist replied, without missing a beat, ‘Sorry, blame my shitty Catholic upbringing.’
You’ve got to love a hotel that allows that level of quick-witted informality.