Sunday lunch at Anna's home in El Masnou:
After allowing me to gawp at the sea view (despite the majestic dancing storm clouds and competitive wind), Anna leads us up towards her place while telling me the history of her town.
It strikes me that I would not have been able to do the same for her if she had just arrived in Singapore.
The town is quieter and smells more homely. Being a Sunday and also lunch time, the streets are resting, children playing, families at the beach. The buildings and roads are a mix of shapes and styles. We walk uphill towards where the fishermen of Masnou used to stay. Her parents and grandma were waiting for us.
And this - a meal that will remain deep in my memories...it's hard to put into words the warmth, the magic of connections exchanging between languages and culture, the hospitality I receive despite not being a direct contact. A meal that ended at 6pm. Even if I end up having less than five 'Spanish' meals out in my time here, this is more than enough the lunch experience I seek.
The food. Starters: tomato and herb toast, salad, bacon wrapped dates, chips, and pate squares with a hazelnut each. Bread bowl of walnut and pumpkin, and white bread. And the paella...full of flavor and seafood and chicken and rabbit. Second servings. A ball. Couldn't even finish the dessert of fresh fruit and chantilly cream. Without the espresso, I'd have definitely missed Pl Catalunya on the train back.
That's her family with one of their five turtles.
On Sundays, shops are closed, families spend the day together. During the meal, conversation between them felt open, honest, sincere. No phones. No rush. No need to be somewhere else, no need to leave when the moment is here, now.
Their basement was full of DIY furniture and artefacts; her father constructs furniture, her mother breathes new life into abandoned chairs, cloth, lamps, etc with her own art.
We walked towards Mongat, past yachts (many for sale) and between the beach and the train tracks. Barcelona can be seen along the whole path, with Sagrada Familia and her soldiers of construction crane always, still, recognisable. Unfortunately, the phallic symbol dome from Glories is as well.
The Spanish Sunday.