I Didn't Want To End Up Looking Like A Gay Spaniard

The other night we finally made it to Canela, the best restaurant in Barcelona and also one of the cheapest.

The restaurant claims it's food is, 'Creative Mediterranean Cuisine'

Yes, it was! No ham in sight. I ordered ravioli with shrimp and some sort of cheese garlic sauce. It came, with the shrimpies looking alive. Heads, tails, shells, butts, everything. They actually tasted amazing though. And then I began in on the rav's. At this point, it was a little warm in the restaurant. There was air conditioning but we weren't sitting very close to the unit. I ordered a coke and it came, but not with ice because Europe exiled ice back in the 1700's.

I continue to eat the very tasty food when I realize I am eating hot peppers. I started sweating. As in, full on, soccer in the summer in Missouri sweating. I think I am having a reaction to the food. It was really not good. Ila and Martin were of course, laughing at me but I really couldn't cool down. I stopped eating what I thought were the peppers and after about 20 minutes and some water, I began to cool down.

Literally, if you don't believe me, ask Martin. I made him feel my leg which was covered in sweat. He was disgusted.

The rest of the meal was fabulous, even though my veal was a bit tough. Ila's chicken thing was great and Martin had really good duck. Then we even ate dessert. After all of this, you would think we paid a fortune. But we managed to leave the restaurant only 23 euros lighter, each. Wow! I think we are going to return there for our last meal in Barcelona tomorrow night. Note to self: unless carrying an ice pack and a hankerchief, avoid red peppers in Spain. Unless you have been eating spicy food for a while and aren't out of shape like me!!!

During the conversation, we came across the topic of hair cuts. We were explaining to Martin the disgust Americans feel towards The Mullet. And how it is somehow very fashionable to have a mullet here.

Martin just recently got a haircut. And he was well aware of the "Spanish look." He also lives in the area we do, known as Boys Town. He went to the hair salon after looking up specific words for "Normal" "Haircut" "All-one-length" and "No Mullet!" (I took some liberty with which words Martin actually looked up, although I am guessing they were pretty close to these)

He went to the salon and it turns out, the girl who was cutting his hair was German. Thus, he ended up telling her exactly what he wanted. In his words, he was deathly afraid of coming out of the salon "Looking like a Gay-Spaniard!"

Thank God the world is flat.