Amongst many other delights, Barcelona holds the great benefit of being a 'city by the sea'. This means that you could, if you wanted to, have a light breakfast outside Gaudi's house before walking to one of the many shopping streets - aligned with Chanel and Prada - for lunch with friends, followed by a stroll through the rustic 'Borne' quarter to reach the Barceloneta beaches for a swim and a spot of volleyball pre-cocktail hour! Possibilities are endless, apparently.
Mother and I had planned somewhat of a similar arrangement for our final day, however Mother had left the hotel sporting an outfit only appropriate for the lunchtime events. Diamante pumps and the dress she wore to the formal wedding we attended a few months ago. I recall the packing process back at home the night before;
"Mummy, do you have space in your case for my shoes? I'm wearing my trainers and taking one pair of heels and one pair of flats.... but I have no room for them"
(The ever-growing dissimilarities between Mother and I - I do not pack lightly)
"Of course, darling! Look! I'm only taking two dresses!" *points to the 2 silk garments laid out on her bed* "And I'm wearing this one on the train" *holds up a tight-fitting, silky, floral-yet-winter-appropriate dress*
"Right, okay - what about shoes? Have you packed your sneakers?"
"Pardon? Darling, what on earth would I need those for? I'm wearing my diamante pumps - obviously! They go with everything!"
- N.B. They do not go with everything. They go with everything Mother has packed.
"Underwear?"
"Oh yes. I better pop that in."
As you may presume, I did attempt to re-pack her some suitable attire but was told off.
So, back to the trip. As we leave the hotel we get caught in a light shower. We did actually purchase ponchos but Mother refused to wear hers. Instead, she spends the next twenty minutes extraordinarily frustrated that the tiny puddles are destroying her trusty beige diamante pumps.
"Darling, shall we sit down and have a spritzer?"
"Urm... no. We've only walked down this street, we've got a while to go. It's also 11am. So perhaps you can hold on?"
Mother huffs and declares that she most definitely cannot wait any longer, she is having a breakdown over her now-papier-mâché shoes. As we find ourselves a nice spot for a morning snack (me) and wine (Mother), the skies brighten and the sun beams down. Mother sticks her leg out into the rush of oncoming tourists in a grand attempt to speed the process of drying her water-marked suede pumps. A combination of the wine and the sun puts Mother in a better mood as we continue our leisurely journey down towards the beach.
Mother looks a little worse for wear as we find ourselves approaching the beach.
"I think we ought to sit down again, I'm starving! Let's find ourselves a nice-"
Mother breaks off as her eyes land upon a tall, dark and handsome Spanish waiter smiling at her, offering a menu "Never mind! I've found just the place!"
I, myself, am continuously hungry. Even if I had just shovelled a Thanksgiving dinner down me, I'd probably still accept more food. I suggest to Mother that we stroll along the promenade just to have a little 'restaurant-browse', however somehow we still end up at Mother's first choice.
"I want nachos, darling. Do they have nachos? I definitely fancy nachos. They better have nachos! Isn't that a regular thing on menu's here, darling? Check for mummy, do they have nachos on the menu here? Ask that nice waiter over there... he's coming over, darling! Quick, or you'll miss him! Ask him to bring mummy some nachos! Do you want nachos too, darling? You want nachos as well, we'll have two... or do you want to share?"
"I don't want nachos but thank you for the offer. Also, they don't have them. They had them at all the places we passed though. Why don't you open your menu and see what you fancy?"
Mother's face drops in the same way it does every time she chooses her meal before looking at the menu. Also, the same way it drops when she heavily designs a dress in her head, sets out to a few shops to find this specific dress and returns home unsuccessful.
Instead of opening her menu, Mother orders a large piña colada and then decides to fork around my food. Fifteen minutes later, we're strolling along the promenade again, watching the beach activities and being offered Segway rides (tempting - for me, not so much for Mother).
"I'm hungry. I haven't had my nachos yet."
"I see. No, you haven't. Do you really need them now? It'll be dinner time soon."
"YES I NEED THEM! I NEED MY NACHOS! I WANT MY NACHOS! Do you think they have them over there??? What about over there?? What about in that ice cream parlour, will they give me some nachos?"
The beach is full of exciting eateries, big and small, that provide nachos. I advise Mother of this and we peer at the people in these places. Specifically those who appear to have nachos in front of them.
"Oh GOD!?! The cheese on those! That's not real cheese!! It's FAKE cheese, darling! I don't want that?! It's SQUEEZY-CHEESE!!! It's powdered cheese?! I can't put myself through that, darling. I can't. I cannot. I want real cheese on my nachos, preferably stilton but I'll settle for cheddar. I'm not fussy, darling."
I can tell this is not going to be a quick fuel-stop. We are now on a nacho-hunt. Which sounds easy, I know. However, now, we are looking for 'real-cheese-topped nachos' - lest you forget. Making it significantly more challenging.
A little while later, still unsuccessful with finding suitable nachos, I glance over at the beach. Admiring the low sun glinting on the ocean my eyes land upon a gentleman sunbathing. Not in his prime, he resembled an animal of sorts. I don't want to say 'beached-whale' but he certainly wasn't a majestic merman. I notice, past his rather round tummy, he appears to be wearing nude Speedo's. How amusing! He also appears to have taken a little picnic with him as I spot a croquettes potato placed just at his crotch and... oh. That is not a croquettes potato. And those are not Speedo's. Mother has followed my gaze and I now sense that the Great Nacho Search is instantly called off.
xoxo
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