La Chispa de la Vida

Today I did another Modernist pilgrimage of the neighborhood known as El Raval, which is still affectingly seedy in places. A spot on the walking tour is a bar called La Confitería, which used to be a pastry shop at the turn of the 20th Century and has been restored into a gorgeous bar. It's in the middle of a slightly down at the heels neighborhood and the two older gentlemen tending the empty bar were fun, crusty bohemians. Here's what transpired:

Me: A Coke please.
Bartender: Ice?
Me: Yes
Bartender: Lemon?
Me: Yes, please.
Bartender: Bubbles?
Me: That would be perfect.

Then the bartender, who I suspect was French and gay, helped himself to a piece of horrible cake, the kind they sell at supermarkets. He complained about the horror of the cake in detail until the other guy took a bottle of brandy from the display and poured a swirl of brandy on the slice. The bartender pronounced it much better.

That was fun.

La Confitería and if you look closely, the offending cake.