We're back!

Fully recovered from our illness, we were back in form on Saturday night, and didn't Barcelona know it! The evening started eventfully and we knew we were in for a good'un.

Having stopped on a corner to consult my map as to which direction we had to go in, a strange man stopped me to ask for directions. Since I am so good at the numbers I stood there busily counting out the streets he had to cross to get to his destination, when suddenly a police badge is shoved under my nose and then muchos shouting began. When Bindi and I stood there staring with looks resembling deaf mutes, they asked us if we were English. We said yes (it was easier) and we think they then accused us of buying cocaine from said strange man. Then I think, and I only think this because only every second word was coming out in English, they said we should be careful in Barcelona because we may think we're buying cocaine but bad men sell us heroin and (other things in Spanish) instead.

What?

Still standing stuck to the ground looking like deaf mutes we all of a sudden started shouting, "No, no. We're not buying cocaine, we're giving directions."

The undercover cops in Barcelona are not a friendly bunch. They were still yelling, demanding our passports.

Me: "I don't have it with me."
Bindi: "I don't have it with me."
UCC: "Show us your drivers' licence."
Me: "I don't have it with me."
UCC: "Give me your bag. What did you exchange with that man?"
Me: "Nothing."
UCC: "Give me your purse."
Me: "I don't have it with me." (My wallet does not fit in my new teensy, gorgeous little Marc Jacobs handbag (thanks Fran and Ross)).
Bindi: "Oh no, I forgot to bring my wallet. I have no wallet."
UCC: "What money were you giving him? What did you get from him. Give me your bag."
Bindi: "Oh no, we have to go home. I've got no money."
Me: "Here's my handbag, take it, there's no cocaine."
Me (to myself): "Sh!t, sh!t, sh!t! There's no cocaine, is there? Did he put it in? What was he doing while I was counting the streets?"
Bindi: "I don't have my purse."
UCC: Searching through our bags: "lots of things in Spanish".
Bindi: We have to go home. I don't have my purse."
UCC: Still more yelling in Spanish/English.

They let us go with lots of other warnings and advice that we didn't really understand. Meanwhile said strange man has done a runner and no one is yelling after him. Weird.

So, after we go home to get Bindi's wallet, we set off again on a different route, to meet Meri for dinner. And we had some yummy traditional Catalan food and no wait staff stole my plate before I'd finished eating. Muy bien!

But the biggest adventures of the night came in a club where we went to meet Meri's colleague and his mates. For the Sydney crew, this place was just like Minsky's. Why do posh boys look the same the world over? You can spot them a mile away. I tell you what, Ralph Lauren has a lot to answer for, and so do the schools that educate these boys - start instilling a little imagination please! Anyway for the crew not from Sydney, the crowd was a mix of middle-age desperadoes, posh boys with collars up and v-neck jumpers and girls trying to get lucky with the posh boys. It was ace!

We danced the night away to Spanish and Latin American music and even got a few lessons on how to do the moves. It was so funny I've made a movie of it, so look out here. I will post it as soon as I can fix the audio track.

(Nick - write back to me about the audio track please!)

NB: Can you guess which aforementioned type the man in the pic is?