On this evening of day 6, after Tavin and I were rehydrated, and our core temperature had returned to normal, we met up with Alec after his long day at the Beijing (rented) office. I had found a Spanish restaurant that was close to a subway stop, and Lonely Planet said was worth the trek. (Spanish food in China, yeah, sure why not? In the circle of tourist existence we were in, most North/Beijing Chinese food was either crazy expensive or westernized to the point of “no fun.”)
We followed the instructions to a “T.” And still were wandering inside and out, about the ground floor of a quite new sky-scraper, looking lost and confused. A local kindly asked us, “Are you looking for the ‘Spain Restaurant’?”
|See the bright lights guiding us around the building?|
Why, yes. Yes we were. It turned out, the entrance to the Spanish Restaurant was all the way around on the back of the building,
|Thank goodness the bar guarding the parking lot was reflective |
or I would have smacked right into it
through a parking lot.
And no, there was no sign outside.
|I know!? With that garish lighting and that signage it is hard to imagine how we could have missed it!|
Fortunately, the food was worth it, and they even had a wine list of appropriately rough Spanish and European wines (nothing too fine) that stood up to all the garlic & pimento/paprika.
|And the decor was actually... pretty Spanish.|
Warm and full, we rode the subway back to the hotel, tucked Tavin in, and went down to the blown glass fantasy of a lobby bar, and enjoyed a night cap of chrysanthemum tea, “good for the throat.”