The Purple Penguin

Left the hotel and headed for coordinates given as the meeting spot. Even with the coordinates, three groups of us managed to wait in totally separate places, until Koyan appeared with a few people which coalesced everyone into a group of 13 (representing several different countries).  Luckily one of these was somewhat local (even if he does live abroad). So we dully followed the local to a tapas bar, down a small side alley off La Rambla.

Went into what looked like a fairly empty little restaurant, where we followed the waiter into a expanding space – it felt like we kept turning corners to find even more restaurant – and eventually a small room which we had to ourselves (another party came in later, but we had finished and were getting to leave by that point). The room was full of old bull fighting memorabilia, including a large bull head on the wall. Of course, being a bit of leftover IT geeks, the first thing we asked for was the wifi password (K – I think I was the only one not with a phone/device!) The place obviously catered for large groups as the menu had a per person group selection, which included a set of dishes and a litre of drink between 2 people (so a litre of beer or wine or sangria or water or soft drink – just guess what the IT people went for. No not beer, sangria). So large pitchers of sangria on the table. And following that a large plate of bread with tomato. Then a few other tapas and we started eating. Then a few more tapas. And a few more. And more. Then a couple more. Until we were playing plate tetris just to find space on the table. And the tetris music just kept speeding up. In the end we were just combining tapas onto the same plates to make space. At some later point, the tapas were gone, the sangria jugs were empty, and the plates had disappeared.

Then someone said ‘ice cream!’ and hands went up. But one person said ‘no wait! There’s a really good ice cream place back on La Rambla. We should go there.’ So the bill arrived and was settled – everyone over paid slightly so it was decided that this was ice cream money and off we headed on the ice cream hunt.

So we were lead to the little ice cream parlour, and this one was little (and empty when we got there, not so much after). We all looked at the ice cream until it was figured out that you queue in the centre to order and pay, then queue at one of the coolers to choose your flavour, and this group of 13 had not only filled the space but mucked up the system. So we got ourselves sorted, more or less, with one of us to order and pay and rest to queue up to chose our flavour. So hands up for cups? and hands up for cones? And then do it again because some of us didn’t pay attention the first time. And there was an extra cup – a man on the end of our group had joined in. So sure say we – join in! And he introduced himself, German on holiday, and we said ‘oh we don’t have a German in the party, perfect!’ And that’s how there were 15 for ice cream. Which was very good indeed (ice cream and company).

So we ate the ice cream, then started fading away as people called it a night. So headed down La Rambla losing people all the way until it was just the two of us. Went past our metro stop so backed up and found it (with loads of people heading out for a Port Vell night run) and headed for the hotel.