This proud edifice, once the royal tobacco factory and the setting of Carmen as told by Bizet, is now bustling not with attractive and darkly passionate gypsy lasses but with studious young people on earnest quests to earn their degrees in various subjects, and also, I suspect, to display the entirety of their deeply fashionable wardrobes to the maximum number of people.
I explored the maze-like edifice as fully as possible within the time at my disposal.
At about this point, I inevitably became lost.
Fortunately, I made a number of extremely mutually pleasurable friendships along the way.
None of these delightful statues (extremely capable despite missing arms, some of them; despite being nominal Romans and of Spanish manufacture, they seemed charmingly determined to live up to the Grecian reputation of having invented the business, as it were), however, had heard anything of Willow, although with the international population they did at least speak English. This put them a step above the fountain figures, which only burbled at me unhelpfully.
Fortunately, the good founder Rodrigo took pity and suggested that, while it might not be possible for me to find the proverbial needle in the haystack, I might in fact not need to, given that the needle has ears and legs and presumably wants to be found. I have since made it my business to not only ask after Willow, but to leave my contact information with those to whom I speak in the hopes that they may see her and be in a position to relay said information to her.
I also made a journey to a local cemetery. I imagine that Willow, like my Tara, would need supplies for any dark arts she might practice, and thus if she has ever been or will ever be in the city, a trip to this locale would be on her agenda.
The graveyard was exceedingly complex, crowded, and ornate, and lent itself extraordinarily well to Gothic tales, as there were a great many crypts lying open.
As you can see, there is here an even greater gap between the extremes of what one can get for one’s money (regardless of taking it with you) than in Tara’s graveyard. One can have anything from structures the size of functional houses down to coffin-sized slots in those great banks. What is more, I am informed that the slots come at rental prices, and should one’s family be unable to pay, one’s corpse would have to be removed to a less distinguished location still.
At any rate, I found no help and very little English within those dire straights, and left forthwith.
I spent that night in a most pleasing flat which I enjoyed exploring thoroughly.
All in all, while I may not have made actual identifiable progress in my quest, I feel my time thus far has been well-spent.
