Sugar Packet | Barcelona

A mid-afternoon snack with the ladies who snack after lunch. The window of La Boulangerie (361 Avinguda Diagonal) showed a stack of fine food. A really nice-looking square of pizza got me to open the door. (Italian food in a French patisserie in Spain…it had to be good, right?) But once inside my stomach was attracted to an apple concoction. It was glazed with some sweet gunk that stuck to my fingers. I licked it off, and as I was doing so I noticed the ladies who snack after lunch were staring at me. I could sense them over my shoulder and I see them on the mirror. It wasn’t like I was doing it in any skilled and sexy way. I appeared to be a bum, mis-combed hair, raunchy mustache, and a funk of dried sweat under wet sweat. I’d been wearing the same clothes for about a week. It was just easier that way. Ladies, let me apologize for spoiling your mid-afternoon refection. The sticky apple thing was washed down with a Vichy Catalan, and that was washed down with a cortado. I never use sugar in my coffee, but if I was going to do so this would have been the sugar to use. A tea spoon, a cucharilla was inside of the sugar packet. Total class. That’s why those ladies were there. This was the sugar packet.