Cambrils.

Another half day waiting to sleep and then move along. The afternoons are killers. And I was almost exterminated by the gastrointestinal restaurant next door to the Fonda: €30 for an Entrecot. As I'd paid €14 a few days back for the same item I kept looking around Cambrils.

A very nondescript establishment Bar Eixample for a grilled Sea Bass. Reminiscent of the one I grilled back at Pucelli's in Padstow: possibly the least Italian of all the various mock Italian restaurants in that mockery of a Cornish fishing village... The chef was Armenian and he advised me where to get good Lavash: if only there was Armenian food here? But Catalonia isn't England with it's unlimited culinary affair? The Sea Bass wasn't completely fresh.

Do I walk because I am bored? The same question could be asked of every narcissistic act I am aware of or oblivious of... From awakening until returning to slumber there is a great nothing to be filled. Of course it is too warm this afternoon to go anywhere except around the old town: I find myself with a cupa vino blanco outside the old town and beside El Portal/port/gate etc. A little rain might break the monotony of the eternal sunshine. We, as a family, felt the exact same in Australia, during the crippling months of Summer, when we emigrated there in 1986. Why aren't I in the sea here...

Can I find reality in Cambrils? I don't think so. Unless I spend the remainder of the day solo, in my room. Tomorrow I must walk. If I don't I'll lose the plot. I am spending too long trying to locate something where nothing is. It's obvious. If only I could go and swim... Perhaps that's the morning activity? Hilarious. Breakfast isn't until 8.

After a solitary meander I returned to room 104. There are a group of wealthy boys below: who are spending plenty of euros on the fancy affair on offer. It's so easy to make money out of the wealthy and also make the desperate work like those who are starving. The food here wouldn't repeat on me, but at least I get two bites of the same sea bass. The three final yogurt Madeleines have gone to my belly too. Can I walk to Tarragona tomorrow? Or to Reus Airport on Friday?