Barcelona welcomes northern European students with open arms and a bit of envy.The visitors are tall and fair-haired and have light-colored eyes. They come alone and make connections quickly.

Olga and I ran into each other at the counter of the no-frills cafe next to our school. I had assumed she was just another fugitive using Spanish classes as an excuse to spend a winter on the Mediterranean coast.

I was wrong on all counts.

Olga is a neurologist with a practice in Moscow. She explained that she combines acupuncture with conventional medicine, an approach more widely accepted in Russia than in the U.S.

She’s in Spain thanks to the ultra-prestigious Médico Interno Residente program built around international research and professional development at cutting-edge facilities. She juggles that training with an intensive Spanish curriculum.

Healthcare is a right in Russia. Services at state-financed hospitals and municipal out-patient clinics are available to everyone. Olga’s medical training was financed with public funding.

The care itself is of extremely high quality but time spent in waiting rooms can be frustrating. People with disposable income often choose additional private care.

Dr. Kokina works 49 hours a week and is on call every four days. Ongoing reforms in the healthcare system have led to lower pay and the stress of seeing more patients.

She lives in the suburbs of Moscow where she faces commutes by car as long as two-hours each way. In many ways she could be describing a physician’s fate in the big cities of our country.

Olga’s husband owns a service business. They have a child named Nikita. During a break I asked if — given the 2-hour time difference between Moscow and Barcelona — her Nikita might be out on the school playground while we were sharing coffee.

She paused and laughed. Her son, she said, happens to be a university student. Those students from northern Europe can fool you.

The assassins boarded the trains at various Metro stations across Barcelona last Sunday.

Jardins de les 3 Xemeneies, Barcelona – You could see the tools they use to eliminate their rivals poking out of backpacks and foldable shopping carts.

They had picked up Green and Purple Line connections at Sants Estacio, España or Cataluña and climbed out into the daylight at the Parallel station. They made no effort to hide what they were about to do.

The Jardins de les 3 Xemeneies (Garden of 3 Idle Smoke Stacks) are down near the wharves where the old power plant provided electricity during of the Fascist era, close to the majestic ‘Aduana’ customs building. You can smell the Mediterranean and see the colossal Columbus pointing to the New World.

This park is where self-appointed street artists can use a gallon of fast-dry latex to snuff out the work of any another artist, painting a new creation over an old one. Life expectancy here is short. This is the Serengeti of graffiti art.

There are no rules — each artist decides which piece of art to paint into oblivion. You can put an inferior work out of its misery or assassinate an artistic genius who makes your own work look average. A piece might survive a week or a day or just an afternoon.

An artist at work that Sunday morning said he invests no more than a few hours creating his masterpieces. I reached for the Spanish word ‘espantáneo’ to express my admiration of his dexterity but the syllables didn’t came out quite right. He thanked me in English.

It’s impossible to get off the metro and walk a few blocks anywhere in Barcelona without finding something you didn’t expect and you didn’t know existed.

The assassins boarded the trains at various Metro stations across Barcelona last Sunday.

Jardins de les 3 Xemeneies, Barcelona – You could see the tools they use to eliminate their rivals poking out of backpacks and foldable shopping carts.

They had picked up Green and Purple Line connections at Sants Estacio, España or Cataluña and climbed out into the daylight at the Parallel station. They made no effort to hide what they were about to do.

The Jardins de les 3 Xemeneies (garden of 3 idle smoke stacks) is down near the wharves where the old power plant provided electricity during of the Fascist era, close to the majestic ‘Aduana’ customs building where you can see the colossal Columbus pointing to the New World and smell the Mediterranean.

This garden is where self-appointed street artists can use a gallon of fast-dry latex to snuff out the work of any another artist, painting a new creation over an a old one. Life expectancy is short here. The Jardins de les 3 Xemeneies is the Serengeti of graffiti art.

There are no rules — each artist decides which piece of art to paint into oblivion. You can put an inferior work out of its misery or you assassinate an artistic genius who makes your own work look average. A piece might survive a week or a day or just an afternoon.

An artist at work that Sunday morning said he invests no more than a few hours creating his masterpieces. I reached for the Spanish word ‘espantáneo’ to describe my admiration of his agility but the syllables came out wrong. He thanked my in English.

It’s impossible to get off the metro and walk a few blocks anywhere in Barcelona without finding something you didn’t expect and you didn’t know existed.