Who would pick a Chinese restaurant in Barcelona?
We know we can’t be picky about food choices on a Sunday morning and Linda picks a Chinese restaurant that says huevos on the menu in the window. Only one diner occupies the large room and I don’t like the menu selection, but I order scrambled eggs with shrimp and plain rice. Gene order something similar and Linda gets wonton soup and dumplings. It reminds me of the Christmas dinner scene at the Chinese restaurant in A Christmas Story. While we get our beverages right away, a half hour passes before Linda’s soup shows up. In the meantime, the staff noisily moves and dusts all the chairs, on and on. One employee sponges off the wall and leans over our table and sponges over us. They bang silverware and glasses in opening preparations and we can’t figure out why they seated us if they weren’t open. Finally, a greasy frittata shows up and I can’t stomach eating it. Gene and I leave to go shoe shopping before the rest of the food shows up. The stores are all closed so we get muffins at Sta
