Whoops, wrong way...
As I left the house this morning (ok, afternoon), I was very preoccupied with who-knows-what going through my foggy mind. The two clear thoughts through the mist were:

1. I'm going to the internet cafe to fill out the other application for a job in Cadiz
2. I hate having to walk on Las Ramblas, I should avoid that...hmm, the internet cafe near Universitat is to the left of Las Ramblas...

The thought that didn't go through my mind as I was walking along enjoying the day, the old Catalan couples out for a stroll, the parakeets fighting in the palm trees over my head...
thought. right. I had a lack of cohesive thought...

Suddenly the street was crowded with all of this hostile energy. I look up and the street was alternately lined with very agressive looking putas (prostitutes) and rather gruff looking men all leaning back against the walls on both sides of the rather narrow street. Further more, all of the signs were now in Arabic and I remembered why I always walk down Las Ramblas and not to the left of Las Ramblas...I had wandered inadvertantly into the Moroccan Quarter. Further, I was well into it before I even realised, and was even on the far side of it. Oy.

I was thankful to be wearing my sunglasses to prevent my eyes from portraying my surprise and alarm at probably the worst street I've walked down in the couple of times I've gone there, including the time that Lisa and I went at 10 o'clock at night to get her phone unlocked.

When I first arrived to Barcelona more than 2 years ago, a guy said to me, "Here, I'm going to do you a favor. Hand me your map." He then proceeded to outline places to go, places to see, to eat, to relax, and then he took his black marker and drew lines on a section. "You NEVER need to go there." That's when I found out about the Moroccan Quarter.

Colorful place.