Mojito for breakfast

The next morning, Elaine and I tried to retrace our steps and take our men to the onslaught of deadley restaurants we found the inight before. We missed a turn somewhere and ended up in a strange marketplace. Strangely, there was a cadge there, that had a breakfast menu with pancakes, but I was still too scarred from the churros to have them. Karl noticed the waiter swapping suspicious paper bags with random customers who didn't buy anything. We were definitely in a Mafia cafe. Underbelly Spain. This was confirmed when I missed the toilet sign and ended up in the mafia-est looking kitchen. It didn't look like they were cooking pancakes downstairs. 

After breakfast we wandered through the marketplace, I got taken for a fool and accidentally bought 7€ worth of dried fruit. When I questioned the man, he showed me that I was, in fact getting a massive discount. He was generously selling it to me for €29 euro per kilo, when the real price was €40 per kilo. That's the last time I randomly pick up things from attractive piles. I should have smelt a rat when he offered me a taste teste of delicious baklava during my selections. Who has heard of cried fruit for AUD$60 a kilo. Insane. 

I needed a rest after this emotional man handling, so I joined Steven and Elaine at the bar and had a mojito. Are you surprised that Elaine and Steven had found a bar in the middle of the market? I'm not. Elaine was saying that she would like to drink cocktails for breakfast everyday. She is going to become a housewife and do just that. 

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