Dreaming of Spain - Part 2

(Part 1 is below)

“What is your name?” the bearded man asks in perfect English with the slight hint of a Spanish accent.

“Mike. Look, I was just trying to point out that you dropped your wallet. That’s all.” I said somewhat quizzically.

“I know and I appreciate it, Mike. You must be American. What brings you to my city, Barcelona?” he asks. I notice that he pronounces the city “Bar-thuh-lona” and make a point to start using it that way from now on.

“I am just passing through. I’m out here playing tourist for a few weeks and thought I’d check out Barcelona on my way to the French Riviera. I’m headed to Nice tomorrow.” I explain.

“Well, Mike, thank you. It was very kind of you to allow me to retrieve my wallet.” he says as he stands and walks away from the table.

I watch him walk away when suddenly he stops and makes his way back towards me.

“Here. I want you to have this.” he says as he places an item on the metal table. “For your travels. Good luck to you.”

Before I have a chance to respond he disappears into the crowded square.

Dreaming of Spain - Writing Practice

"The plaza mayor must be around here somewhere", I think as I turn left down another cobblestone street. I have been enjoying cafe con leches every morning now for ten days and am craving one now. My travels through Spain have taken me from Madrid to Sevilla and now on to Barcelona. I can smell the salty ocean air as I wander the streets in search of the grand square they call La Plaza Mayor.

"Aha", I think as I turn a sharp corner to the right. The narrow alley opens up into an opulent square. I stand in the corner of the square to take it all in. In each of the four corners are restaurants with tables spilling out onto the cobblestone street. In the center of the square is a stone statute of a man on a horse. The horse is standing on two legs as if he was just spooked. The man looks regal in his military uniform - sword pointed in the air as though he just won some great battle.

In between the corner restaurants are shops and little cafes. I decide to make my way across the square to a little cafe that doesn't look as crowded as the corner restaurants. I can only make out the word VINO on the sign above the front door when I decide that is the place for me. I think to myself that this would be a great place to head back to at a time where it would be more appropriate to have a glass of "vino tinto" and a tapa that Spain is so famous for. As I reach the petite cafe I peek my head inside and glance at the clock on the wall - 10 a.m. - "I must have overslept", I think. I take a seat at a round table with three metal chairs pulled up to it. The waiter approaches and I belt out, "cafe con leche, por favor"...a phrase I have said many times although it still feels as good now as it did the first time. I sit there on the cool metal chair and wait for the coffee to arrive. I notice that the sun rays are visible in the morning light shining on a group of pigeons that are looking for their morning snack...presumably what they can find leftover from last night's revelers. The air at this time of the morning smells like a mixture of salty sea air, eggs, coffee and that faint but all too familiar smell of a big city.



My coffee arrives in a small cup that was set neatly in a white porcelain saucer. The handle is too small to fit even one finger through. I pick up the cup and instantly smell the strong aroma of espresso and milk. As I take a sip I notice a bearded man sitting to my left reading a newspaper. He turns the page of his paper and, as he does, he knocks his wallet to the ground. I wait for him to pick it up until I notice that he must not realize that his wallet is sitting on the ground below him. "Senor", I say trying to get his attention. I can't remember the word for wallet so I point to the ground and say once again, but a little louder this time, "Senor!" The man turns to me, looks to the ground, picks up his wallet and goes to stand. I watch him and notice how casual yet chic he looks dressed in a nice suit with a beard and disheveled hair. His tieless shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest and he has a silk pocketsquare peeking out of his suit jacket. He looks at me and pauses as though he is thinking of something to say. As soon as I feel uncomfortable and wish I had never brought this upon myself, he pulls out a chair at my table and sits down.

Quotes

“I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered.”

George Best