Life "sin cuidados"

I just broke one of my cardinal rules of traveling: never go to the same restaurant twice in one trip. I had zero reason to in Barcelona, but for the second night in a row, I wound up at La Bodegueta.
This time, I didn’t miss the entrance. I peered in and saw this dive tapas bar was packed again. The anxiety I felt the previous night of eating alone in such a bustling place was nonexistent, though. I opened the door and was quickly met with a boisterous welcome.
“Ah! La coreana!” proclaimed the spiky-haired spectacled waiter, instantly remembering me.
Like a customer coming here for years, I was immediately seated, at the bar in front of a glass case full of plump croquettas.
I ordered last night’s meal: pan con tomate, spicy chorizo, manchego cheese, and an ice cold Moritz beer. Like a mother insisting her child to eat more, a server plopped a warm chicken croquetta on my plate, gratis.
I hadn’t returned for the food, though.
The atmosphere here was addicting. The beating heart of Barcelona throbbed in La Bodegueta, with the clanking of plates, the fast Catalan chatter, and the constant hustle of the servers accelerating the pulse. The people were relaxed, laughing loudly, sipping on cervezas, and deeply inhaling their cigarettes. “Eat, drink, and be merry” never rang more true. Even the unwanted rose-peddling regular who couldn’t sell a single flower seemed happy and unnerved.
It was the first time I really understood what it meant to just live in the moment. Thoughts of the past and future had no place here. La Bodegueta was only about the now. I was in a foreign land where I didn’t know the language, but I never felt so at peace as I did then.
Reluctant to leave, I indulged in a slightly burnt slice of coca de llavaneres. On my way out, I paused at the clunky cigarette machine, wondering if I should buy a pack as a memento of that smoky enclave of enlightenment. I smiled and walked away, knowing this memory was all I needed to live a happier, carefree life.