—§—

In the sidewalk cafés beneath my window every table is occupied, mostly by tourists. They are the lucky ones. They have made it through the gantlet of caricature artists, mechanical cricket vendors and three-card-monte operators to the relative safety of the watering hole.

Even then, they are prey. The raucous bleating of a saxophone accompanied by an accordion drifts up to my window. It's annoying. Soon the alleged musicians will attack the crowds, hats held out for coins—demanding payment to make them go away. The Spaniards, the French, the Italians will ignore them. The British and the Americans will pay them off out of guilt. The Japanese will give them too much money because they are simply bewildered. It is the law of the street...

—§—

One way to make a buck off tourists is to pose as a living statue. Here's one of my favorites.

I'm always a sucker for angels. I put some coins in her... uh... urn. She slowly, almost mechanically, broke into a beautiful smile and with sweeping arms, blew me a kiss, before freezing again.

Living statues set up shop everywhere tourists throng. Most are not as gracious as my angel, which doesn't slow Jean down one bit.

See? She's already friends with the wax fruit lady. Friends for a couple of euros, that is.

Later, we walked past a bronze John Wayne. I averted my gaze, not wanting to encourage this sort of thing. I heard Jean calling to me. I ignored her, making a great show of photographing a brick wall. Soon both Jean and a male voice were calling me. I turned...

Honest to GodI What if my friends see this?

Jean told me later that when I wouldn't turn around, the statue told her "John is a bad boy," and drew his gun.

—§—

Out on Las Ramblas, shortly after arriving in Barcelona, we were taken down like newborn Dik-Diks. Hungry and thirsty, we stopped at a sidewalk café and ordered breakfast. Asked if we wanted orange juice, I ordered one, knowing it would probably be expensive.

"Large or small?"

"Large." (Well, I was thirsty.)

This is what we got.

"Large" meant "huge, canned and €10." The full tab—for bacon and eggs, juice and coffee—€35. "But John," you ask, "how is this possible—a $40+ breakfast?"

Here's how:

€10—One large canned orange juice
€18—Two orders bacon and eggs
€7—Two coffees
€4—Charge for outside table service
€4—Regular service charge
€2—EVA (tax)
---------------------------------------------------
€35—Total check

—§—

The herd moves on, its lost members already forgotten. The lions, sated, slumber. They'll be hungry again, tomorrow...