In the Placa De George Orwell

Chp. 1: In the Placa de George Orwell

Elliot Wade, a boy almost twenty-three years old made his way through the crowded market off of Las Ramblas in Barcelona, Spain. Sure of what it was he needed to do, he weaved briskly between the tourists and locals alike stepping on fallen candies and tree nuts. The perspiration building around his face began to make for an unpleasant sensation and he briefly wiped his face with his patterned scarf and in that same moment, he made eye contact with another boy who looked very local and very bright. Elliot was attracted to the fellow and still, he had his mind set on the fresh fish from a stall in the market he was supposed to be at 30 minutes ago, so he continued on. Elliot saw lots of good-looking people in this part of town anyway. As Elliot approached the stall he saw a large crowd of people buying their selection of fish.

"Dammit," he muttered.

It was a Wednesday, the best day to buy the absolute most fresh catch.

"Alan! Bon dia!" Elliot yelled and waved.

Alan looked over and showed his famous smile, full of teeth that looked as ancient as their city.

"Bon dia Elliot, you are a bastard, you know that?"

"I got caught up!"

"Should've left sooner friend!"

He weighed out a salmon and yelled to another customer.

"What are you gonna do? Make me go home and tell Claudia I've no dinner for her?"

Alan rolled his eyes in a friendly way.

"Here," throwing down two pounds of squid and scallops, "Tell Claudia you could be a day late, and I might still give her my best."

Elliot winked at him, paid only eight euros plus a tip, and turned around. It was easy enough using Alan's interest in Claudia for access to the best fish but as of late, it was getting a bit old. Alan was a Turkish man who grew up on sailboats and learned to out fish any other on the Mediterranean. Spending time in Sardinia, Alan was blinded in one eye by a quick-moving sea urchin. He later came to Barcelona to sell and prepare fish as a sort of retirement.

Elliot made his way out of the hum of Las Ramblas and strolled into pigeon-filled Placa Catalunya before thinking again of the boy he saw for a moment. He had forgotten seeing him entirely and it made Elliot smile to recall their brief interaction. He wondered if he'd see the boy again and submerged into the metro.

It was a short eight-teen minute trip and there were only a few others on the train. By this time, Elliot knew the stops with his eyes closed, it was a vastly different experience from the car rides back in the United States and Elliot felt that he could very much relax during his commute. On the sixth stop, Hostafrancs, the boy gathered his belongings and made for one of the exits. It was humid and water was beginning to drip down the stairs ever so slowly. A saxophone player could be heard off in the distance playing "Si Tu Vois Ma Mere," one of Elliot's favorite songs. It made him feel excited and romantic, ready to go home and prepare an amazing meal with Claudia.

As the boy made his way towards his building, radio and laughter could be heard from the fifth floor. Climbing the stairs quietly and briskly Elliot entered the apartment, took off his shoes, set down the bags, and went to the balcony. A small tin full of cigarettes lay there with drops of dew on it. Elliot looked up and admired the view of red rooftops and the sea in the distance. He listened to the background noise of Claudia on the phone and the seagulls circling overhead while finishing his cigarette, then went inside to find the girl ending her phone call.

"Si si si va bene! Tutto a posto amore! Chi vediamo domani okay? Baci! Ciao ciao ciao!"

Claudia set down the phone and smiled.

"Hello, handsome."

"Don't start."

"Oh really?"

Elliot laughed. "Hello beautiful, how are you?"

"I am doing absolutely terrific! Today I ran into Susana, from art school a few years back? She just had a baby! She invited me to come over tomorrow and catch up. Plus, I can't wait to eat tonight o mon dio!" She was staring into Elliot's eyes and told her story with that Italian gumption he had come to love so much.

"We should be grateful I even have dinner."

"Late again?"

Elliot lifted his shoulders.

"You know Elliot there's gonna come a time," she put her hand earnestly on his shoulder, " when people are gonna get tired of that."

"Aren't I charming enough?"

"Oh you're definitely charming enough, you could charm a snake."

The two began to prepare the meal and spent a solid hour and forty minutes cooking together before sitting down and enjoying a black squid ink pasta with scallops and sage butter sauce, and on the side, the regional pan amb tomaquette.