Albert told me that I could buy something, but I had a sudden fear of being ‘ripped off’, as is perfectly natural coming straight from Asia. I just didn’t want to start a price battle for a three pairs of socks.
‘Do they try to cheat foreigners here?’
‘Can you bargain for the items?’
‘No – well, I guess you can. I never have though.’
There was a squash of people through the narrow streets. It was quite warm, considering the past few days at 15 degrees. There’s a distinct lack of insects anywhere and hardly any birds.
The only animals we saw were small dogs on leads and some caged chickens for sale.
I’ve been told to be careful of my purse, especially on market day. I’d seen a documentary the evening before showing pick pockets in the markets.
In all the time we have been travelling, nothing has been stolen from our person. Albert says that the most dangerous place we’ll be going to is probably Barcelona, for this small thieving. Again, people don’t want to hurt you, they just want your money.
We met Albert’s mother Montse in Torres, a local bakery/café. It had a delicious array of cakes to choose from, and the coffee was hot and strong, though they only gave me one sugar.
Next week I’m going to buy something, and try out my Catalan.