We walked over to the nearby Santa Caterina market. I'd been told this is more a "real" market than Boqueria has become, where local people actually shop and there aren't gaggles of camera-wielding tourists. Like me. It was awesome---a good variety of stands but not so many as to be overwhelming, lots of little old ladies brandishing shopping bags, and friendly, patient vendors.
Oh, and all your bacalau needs can be met here.
We followed a line of old ladies to the butcher who had many kinds of jamon, including a rack of several Iberian "black hoof" hams on a revolving rack. We made our selection, and she spent a good five minutes carefully slicing, throwing bits of gristle and whatnot into a little bin, and laying out the thin slices of ham on waxed paper.
We also got two kinds of Spanish cheeses, two kinds of tomatoes, potatoes, and some fruit. The fish in the stalls looked amazingly fresh, so we got a pound of glistening tuna for dinner. On the way back we got bread and a few pastries from the bakery across the street from our apartment, and were set for breakfast, snacks and dinner.
The boys were burning to go to Camp Nou, the Barcelona soccer stadium and Museum. I sent the three of them off, and I spend an enjoyable time just roaming around by myself, stopping for a glass of wine. I was looking for some particular turron for a colleague who grew up in Spain. The neighborhood shop I went into only had factory-produced ones, but the nice lady there gave me the name of a shop where they make their own.
I went back to the apartment to wait for Larry and the boys, had some bread and cheese..they finally called after 4, from Montjuic. They had gone for lunch after Camp Nou, then took the funicular to Montjuic.
I went down the street to the wine bar with my knitting, had another glass of wine and watched the world pass by.
The boys returned, and Larry and I went out for a walk. All the stores in el Born were open for the evening, lots of trendy little boutiques with beautiful displays--and no one inside buying. I found the yema tostada turron that Kat wanted, so at least I was contributing somewhat to Spain's economy. Went home, threw the tuna into a hot pan, sauced it with some chopped tomato-garlic-mayonnaise, served with bread and more tomatoes, and called it dinner.
Tomorrrow, the Sagrada Familia, then a long walk through the "new" area of Barcelona.