At the moment I am racking them up; twenty five years this, twenty five years that, and yesterday twenty three years since I last graced the narrow streets of Barcelona.
I had in fact planned to stay until Saturday, but Good Friday had rather blemished my plans. Anyone selling decent jamon or Manchego was going to be shut and food tourism has become a sadly defining personal trait. In any event my hotel didn’t have a room for tonight.
But by the time I came back to check out, they had; and so I didn’t and off the MACBA I rolled.
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