Tapas aka "how to burst your pants without really trying"

Hola! Phineas here because Clio is currently in a jamon induced coma (or maybe it was the croquetas...) Just returned from Tapas crawl #1: Barcelona edition. Since we walked all over the city today (10.87 miles), up and down and all around, we decided to not try to walk a half-marathon and stayed local for our eating crawl. I scoped out some nearby crowded eating establishments and we wound up doing the following:

Stop 1: Wine, jamon, croquetas, gambas (shrimp) a la plancha and an oddly satisfying tapa consisting of shredded lettuce, "special" sauce and bacon. Let's face it, the bacon makes up for the fact that it included a vegetable! Clio, the avowed anti mayo-based-sauce-anything militant, remarked that it was vaguely reminiscent of McD's "special" sauce. Must have been a distant memory since I'm pretty sure she hasn't had a Big Mac since I've known her!

Stop 2: Erato eat your heart out! Jamon, croquetas (see, a recurring theme!) and wonder of wonders the first vegetable found in Spain! Baby scallions with romesco sauce. In addition,I ordered what I thought was mushrooms, but came out as fried baby clams! See, I tried to eat a veg, but out came clams (which were awful tasty). In my defense, the words are very similar, but my stomach is not complaining.

Calcots con salsa Romesco (see Erato, we can do it Tony Bourdain style)

Stop 3: Intermezzo to take this photo:

Obama fever in Barcelona

Why do the Brits always take credit for things that they don't help do, and never any take the blame for any mishaps?

Stop 4: More wine (this time red and white), Croquetas ( again!), deep fried potato-meatballs (don't ask, they were really good) and the rabo de toro (oxtails with beans-Yummmm!). To top it off, we sat watching the kitchen staff perform in the open. As a result, Clio spied a chocolate concoction being created - chocolate mousse shaped into three quenelles, topped with a sprinkling of sea salt and olive oil. Needless to say, Clio's chocolate center (located in the near frontal lobe) overrode the pleadings of her tummy. Out came the chocolate, down went the chocolate, and then the pleadings of No Mas ensued!

I think Clio's jamon coma is reaching critical. Adios for now!

PS - Clio has stirred from her coma long enough to remind me that yesterday I tried to order a sandwich and ended up with marinaded sardines. Apparently, we have some work to do on our language skills. (BTW- Stomach still happy accepting brain's mistakes.)