Russell in Spain: July 2018

Philip, Lana and I went over to Ametlla del Mar and had a wonderful tapas lunch last week. There's a restaurant there called the No Stress Bar right across from the marina. After lunch, we stopped by the marina to watch the fishing boats unload. It was fascinating.

The boats pull in and the catch is already sorted by size and species in small plastic tubs. The tubs are loaded onto trailers and pushed up to the back door of the market. The tubs are placed on a conveyor belt and taken into the auction gallery.

The auction gallery is like an auditorium with rows of seats overlooking the conveyor. Each tub of fish is auctioned individually. There are computer monitors on the wall above the conveyor that show the prices bid, the sale price and the buyer. Each tub is sold in about five seconds. Every buyer has a hand-held digital bidding device. I did see a few hand bids. The whole thing was modern, brisk and efficient.

After purchase, the tubs are conveyed out into a staging area. Each buyer has a pallet for his purchases. There is a crew that puts ice into each tub. Outside is a loading dock where refrigerated trucks are waiting to take the fish away. I saw trucks from all the major grocery stores and local fish retailers. Please check out the photos below.

I had parked in a public lot right next to the fish market. We discovered that my car and the one next to me were blocked in by one of the fish trucks. Ordinarily in Spain, when someone blocks you in, they put on the flashers to let you know they'll be right back (more or less). There were no flashers going on the truck and the cab was locked. Philip observed "We could be here awhile!".

After a three hour lunch, I was ready to get home and decided to track down the driver. I went into the staging area and started asking around. Since there was no company name on the truck, nobody inside could help me although several people did come outside to look at the situation. When I asked them where the drivers were, they pointed into the auction gallery.

I walked upstairs into the gallery and looked around. There were around thirty people bidding but I didn't see any "truck driver looking" people just hanging around so I went back downstairs. I asked again where the drivers were and was told they were all absolutely in the gallery. I finally came to the realization that the bidders were driving their own trucks.

Heading back upstairs, I pondered my options. My friends,...I regret to tell you I reached into my pocket and pulled out my angry face. I reached into my other pocket and pulled out my angry outside voice.

I walked to the top of the auditorium and shouted "¡Una pregunta! ¿Quien es el dueño de un Isuzu Iveco numero ocho cinco cinco ocho jota ce efe?" Needless to say, both the conveyor and the bidding came to a screeching halt when everyone in the room turned to look at me. Then they turned and looked around at one another.

I heard a couple of people ask "¿Que numero?" so I went through the "ocho cinco cinco ocho" drill again. I noticed a few men had stood up on the far end of the gallery. They were talking and gesturing to a man who was standing just above them. They were also pointing at me.

From the distance, I couldn't make out what they were saying but suspect it was something like "Hey, Paco! Ain't that your truck? What did you do? This chico in the pink shorts looks really pissed off!". I glanced over and made eye contact with Paco. He looked back very surprised and concerned. He started moving toward the door. I got there first.

As Paco passed by me, he said "Geez, mister, I'm sorry! I just had to unload a few things down there." I replied "Of course" and we left it at that. He moved his truck and we were on our way. I suppose the whole process took about fifteen minutes. In any event, it's a safe bet that the folks at the fish market won't be anxious to see that chico in the pink shorts again anytime soon.