It's three weeks to Thanksgiving. Where are the cranberries? Canned and jellied, canned and sauced, those are where you'd think they'd be at the American import shops. But I need those fresh ones and can't find them anywhere. So, off to the Boqueria I go, that's the huge covered farmers market. Ask in every stall. And find only one shopkeeper who knows what I am talking about. She has ordered them to arrive in a few days. Takes my number, will call as soon as they come in. I am so proud of myself. Then, waiting, waiting, I call. No, they didn't come in this week, maybe next week. After a couple weeks of this, and only a few more days to go, I realize I am resigned to the can-opener. Then Sarah surprises me with the news that El Corte Ingles has fresh cranberries. Sure enough...they are there! Sitting in small boxes as if they were blueberries, raspberries. For 16 euros (ugh!) I take the last four and collect about the same amount as a 2 dollar bag back home. Sorry, whoever came after me. And two hours before my guests arrived...ding!...an incoming text to my phone from the Boqueria..."we've got cranberries." Yahoo, so do I!
By Maia Pay Ozguc
What it's like to live Barcelona. Impressions. Be curious. Be Barcelona!