Sunday, April 5

We had a leisurely brunch, after which Naa and Irma took Sunshine to Jana. I ironed and vacuum-cleaned while they were away.

At 15:30 we got a taxi to the airport. I had a “random search” for the third time in four journeys. It turned out that, once again, I threatened nobody. This time we had checked in our bags so I had less to repack.

The journey took four hours and that was precisely the time I needed to read patricia Highsmith’s Deep Water. It was a fine plane-read.

When we got to Barcelona, the driver who was waiting for us wasn’t waiting for us. 45 minutes later we were still standing there. Irma phoned the taxi company. After several attempts and an operatic level of loud dissatisfaction, we discovered that the driver was “on his way”.

I saw him arrive, looking like an extra in a Tarantino movie. “Do you speak English?”. “No”. Smelling strongly of alcohol he drove us sullenly to our apartment. Irma had established in her phone calls that she would only pay half the agreed price and, during the journey, he received a call that caused him to switch his meter off. 

We got out. He said nothing. I took the bags out of the back. He got in the car and drove off.

Now we have unpacked and gone for a walk.  We are walking down Paral-lel, past the Apolo Theatre. I am looking across the road, over the cycling road. We will soon stop at Rincon del Artista, and have tapas and beer.

Four hours in Barcelona and we are eating tapas! We are tourists, and we are liking it.