Buttons at the Mercat

Woke up yesterday before the sun for our drive to Barcelona, to drop the always delightful Cyrus off at the airport for his return to the states and 1 degree weather in Ithaca. It was odd to see our son off at the airport, with us staying in Spain for another 3 weeks. A glimmer of days to come. It was a real energizer to know we could hop in the car and be in Barcelona in an hour and a half. Like going to Queens from Manhattan in rush hour.
We zoomed up the Gran Via, headed to the Plaza Glories, with little traffic on a Saturday morning. Our destination was the flea market, el Mercat Encant. Found a perfect parking spot (free on Saturday!) where we squeezed in the dirt encrusted Opel. The little car thing works, folks.
After a little wandering around, and asking various people where the market was, we finally caught a glimpse of tent tops, and in to the bowels we went. My goal was to find buttons, the weirder and more unusual the better. And what a bonanza it was. David is a masterful button scrounger, digging deep for the best. Buttons abounded! I walked away with pounds, gleaming with our haul. I must say I was very good about walking away with just what I came for. My fingers did indeed graze some delightful things, in particular old postcards and the odd graphic item, like chocolate bars inserts from the 50's that taught you how to do shadow puppets. But this pitufa is scaling down, so buttons only. Now back to the hotel to knit away, as the buttons need a home. David found what he was looking for, a saw and a grill for an open fire. Today we head for the finca to chop firewood and grill the rabbit he says he will be catching with his bare hands. Going country.