Sitting quietly in El Museo del Chocolate, sipping a hot chocolate and contemplating how to spend the rest of the day, I notice a hubbub from outside. Waiting staff in black outfits swish out of the door to see what’s happening as crowds begin to gather outside the windows. The German couple on the next table move towards the window speaking hurriedly together.
Speaking neither a lot of Spanish, nor German, I was feeling rather nonplussed. I quickly paid for my drink, much to the annoyance of the waitress, whose morning’s entertainment I had clearly interrupted. Heading outside I looked up, following the gaze of the crowd. Flames, dark orange, red and foreboding, licked and twirled out of the top middle window of a building a few doors down.