All over the city car horns are tooting and people are yelling. A scooter hurtles down the streets towards the centre of town, overloaded with three people, plus a Catalan flag. One of the passengers clutches onto the flapping flag as the scooter darts through lines of traffic, another waves a scarf. People hang out of car windows and bellow in time to the tooting. I pause, waiting for a red light to turn green so I can cross the street, and feel totally removed from the euphoria going on around me. It makes me feel very foreign indeed.