Being from a small city and having spent years in an even smaller city, the idea of moving to Barcelona was, at the time, a slight conflict for my fragile provincial spirit. I say mild because, in fact, there was no drama involved, and also because that feeling of Alfredo Landa arriving in civilisation with his chickens under his arm dissipated after a few days. Because in the end this is nothing more than a group of villages concentrated in a few kilometres. Even living in the middle of Ciutat Vella, there comes a time when the tourists become invisible and you can only make out familiar faces in the crowd. And you stop to say hello, to comment on how bad the country is or how good it is for being almost December, all very cosmopolitan and very village-like at the same time.
