It’s one thing to turn off the bustling Rambla, walked through an arched doorway, and entered into the warm toned Plaza Reial. It is something completely different to wander around the maze-like old town‘s back alley, and to follow its twist and turns, to come upon little neighborhood grocers or a butcher shop (often unexpected because none of them has signs as you walked down the alley, then suddenly there is, an oasis of commerce opportunities amidst the quiet and desolate cobble stone pathways, which was occasionally punctuated by a hurrying local), then there you see it, an archway of light and sun, at the end of one such dark and still alley.
As you walked closer to the light, as you walked into the light, the sudden joy and warmth you would feel, was simply overwhelming. At that moment, Plaza Reial suddenly assumed a complete new importance and a brand new kind of prettiness.
Then you find an empty chair under the palm, in the shaded sun, you sit down, started admiring the after lunch crowd to disburse, observing local elders spread around the square’s bench, reading newspaper, or talking to each other, snooping on the lucky residents of the square making phone calls on their balcony, or having a loud conversation with neighbors three balconies away, while the fountain happily bubbling away. You would find yourself grasping for a reason why would you ever want to leave.
The magic of the old continent.