But when I was in the Navy, we made a port call in Barcelona, and I went with a large group of guys on liberty to a restaurant called "Los Caracoles".
It was my first time in Barcelona, and these guys had all gone there before, so as soon as we got ashore, they made a beeline to it before we went to any bars! They were experienced Liberty Hounds, and knew that going bar-hopping on an empty stomach always ends badly...:)
When you approached the restaurant, they had chickens on spits next to the door (just to the left of the chickens) that were roasting, and damn, they were good. As you can see, they had someone going out to baste them occasionally. Funny...this picture below was taken decades after I went there, and the big difference is the glass doors..when I went there in the Seventies, you could have ripped off a chicken since it was wide open.
Inside, the food was great. We all sat at a big, long table. Some guys ordered, and the first thing that came out were two large platters heaped high with golden fried rings, which I assumed were onion rings. I have a severe antipathy to ALL things onion, so I shook my head vigorously in the negative while holding my hands in front of me, palm out in a protective gesture...just to be sure.
Onions actually make me gag. Literally.
But my shipmate pushed them at me saying "No...no...not onions, it is 'calimari'! You'll love it! Try one!"
So I did.
I was hooked. Every time we made a port call to Barcelona, even if I was by myself, I would get off the ship and go straight to that restaurant and order a whole platter of fried calamari rings!
From that point on, any time I went ashore in any country I would try to order it. I used to make a practice of getting off the boat, and getting as far away from Fleet Landing as I could possibly get. We pulled into Taranto, Italy one time, and I don't speak Italian, but found myself far outside the city trying to order a meal. I carried a pad of paper and a pen with me, which I used to communicate. I was in a small mom and pop eatery in some remote area, and had this extremely elderly Italian woman wearing a stained apron trying to understand me. I took out my pad and drew a picture of a squid, and her face lit up! But she served me some kind of sautéed squid, not what I wanted, but it was okay. I tried!
When I got out of the Navy and came home, tried desperately to make them myself and did a poor job of it.
Fortunately for me, that was the early Eighties, right around the time Calamari began to appear in non-Italian restaurants, and soon I was able to order it off many menus.