The Spanish Sprint

Himself and I have been in Barcelona for a mere 24 hours, and I am here to tell you that there´s a lot of running in this city. Not as in running around busy, but as in people running from the law.Yesterday I was busy slurping a gelato along with Himself and daughter Grace when we saw a man sprinting past us, followed by two women. No screaming, no yelling, but RUNNING. Óh,´said Grace nonchalantly, ´thére´s a lot of purse snatchers in Barcelona.´ Then today, at Gaudi´s magnificent Parc Guell, I was having a delightful time shopping for – no, not watches – but gifts for pals in the park´s plaza. I did my best Jewish-girl-trying-to-look-cool-act while haggling with the vendor and scored a nice pile. As I was showing my plunder to Himself, there was suddenly a scuffle of feet, and we looked on in astonishment as all the vendors in the plaza – at least 15 of them – snatched up their wares and fled at top speed. Even the Headless Man, taking donations in exchange for photos – ran off.

Don´t get me wrong; we are loving the city but I have had to learn very quickly to wear my purse across my chest like a crazy tourist in order to hang on to my wallet. Even the guy who sold me my souvenirs told me to watch my handbag before he galloped off.


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