The Catalonia local mandarin
Ever since California started the disastrous wild fires back in 2017, the taste of the local mandarin has been very disappointing. They tasted as if they started suffering from a citrus version of long COVID — tasteless and flavorless but just very sour for most of the time.
For last four years, whenever the mandarin harvesting season started, I had been hoping I could finally taste that old mouthful juicy yet strong pungent aromatic citric flavor only mandarin could provide.
But i have been disappointed ever since.
Few weeks ago, after I threw away yet the half of the last bag of mandarin I bought from the Costco, I had this sinking feeling that the climate change might have already killed the California local mandarin softly but eternally.
Then it comes today. I walked by one small fruit and vegetable store in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona. I noticed one special kind of mandarin. They looked very organic, local and right timing. Their skin were plain, matte and a bit withered, definitely unwaxed; their sizes varied comically as the largest was almost four times bigger than the smallest ones. But all of them shared a very unique and identically more flattened shape compared to their California cousins.
They looked very tasty.
I bought a dozen and first bite almost brought me with tears.
The long lost flavor instantly gave me a mouthful.
Thank you the Catalonia mandarin!
One kind-hearted pocket picker
As soon as we flew in Barcelona in the afternoon, we walked to the Palace of Catalan Music for a concert show. After the show, we hopped into the famed Tosca Tapas y Vino just across the 5 feet-wide street.
While I was placing my very first order of the tapas, my husband was pulled out by his old bosses for a drink in a bar nearby.
So, in the end, I was sitting at the high chair bar area of the tapas restaurant slowly and independently savoring four dishes of the delicious tapas food including the super thin almost translucent looking cured meat from pigs that were fed with special oak acorns.
When I poured down the last drop of the white Sangria, paid the bills and walked out of the restaurant, it was almost 10 pm.
The narrow alleys in the old town looked a bit dark but still there were people walking around. I had this false safe feel enhanced by the Sangria and headed to our Air B&B apartment.
I walked swiftly and hardly stopped anywhere on the way.
When I finally arrived the apartment and squeeze myself into the small elevator, I saw from the elevator mirror that my backpack was widely open.
I had one thin down jacket in the bag. I recalled that I had it nicely wrapped and stuffed in its own round 5 inches long nylon bag. But now it was 1/3 pulled out. Other than that, all the rest of the insignificant items including hand sanitizer, a cotton warm hat, a water bottle, and a bag of chargers, keys and batteries etc. were intact.
Fortunately I had the good habit to carry my wallet separately that is attached to a thin string and hanged cross my torso. It is more for convenience other than any safety concerns.
Judging by the skill this person demonstrated in pulling 1/3 of my down jacked out of that small bag, s/he should have the capability to zip back my backpack after s/he found nothing valuable worth stealing.
I concluded that this was a kind-hearted pocket picker. S/he wanted to remind me to be careful walking in the dim-lighted old town streets of Barcelona after 10 pm.
I had no idea when this person got a chance to do that on my 20 minutes swift walk back.
Then I recalled one YouTuber traveler said Barcelona is a pretty safe city to wonder around and the only thing to watch out is the pocket pickers out there as Barcelona is nick named as the Capital of Pocket Pickers.
I had it experienced with a warm touch the first night out there.
I treated it as a special gift I got from this lovely city.
