BW: Consider me gone.
30th Aug 2007
I¬ím just trying to do my jigsaw puzzle......
There¬ís a tramp sitting on my doorstep, trying to waste his time. Me? I¬ím just sitting here so patiently trying to map out my next course, and it¬ís kind of fun, no scheduled transport, no set days. Let¬ís see, we can¬ít get there from here, but we can go to Barcelona by train, chill for a bit, then bus to Madrid for a day or so, and then fly into Portugal on the cheap. Or, we can train down to Grenada, but not until Monday. What? There¬ís a daily train to Malaga? What¬ís a Malaga and why do I want to take a 12 hour train there? Oh. You want how much for the boat to Ibiza? The flight from Barcelona to Marrakech is booked 5 weeks in advance? Who is this we? Matt, Ebony and Phoebe are supposed to be in Sagres in 10 days, Paul¬ís 30th is Barcelona next Thursday, but Jenny and her friend will be in Lagos. If I can¬ít hit that club Matt sent me a link to in Barcelona, they got one in Lisbon, too. Oh, yeah, Carmel & Stocky, were talking about coming over here, too.
It¬ís amazing how hard it is to find things like cold Orange Juice and a laundromat even in big cities and I wasted most of the day in a quest to do so, finally finding them both in the same place. If Valencia were a person, she¬íd be a beautiful, high maintenance pain in the ass American woman. Don¬ít ask me to work, don¬ít expect me to be consistent, I¬ím just going to be beautiful and fickle, and I¬íll ignore you often, but every once in a while, when I feel like it, I¬ím going to love you just enough to keep you interested. But, I¬íve never suffered those women gladly and if there were an easy way out of here to places other than Barthelona, I¬íd probably split tomorrow instead of Saturday.
It¬ís kind of frustrating here. Posted hours mean absolutely nothing. It¬ís quicker to walk to the other side of town than take the subway. There¬ís never more than 1 shop open on any street at any given time. The streets change names, have no names, or have names other that what appears on the maps. It took an hour to find a pack of Camels. Waiters and waitresses are so used to the casual, lingering crowd, that if you want a quick cerveza y limon you are out of luck. Even at Canas Y Tapas, which I have tried to make my home base, it takes an act of God to get Miguel to bring me my check. I think it works like this: One cafe decides to close for a bit, kicking the staff of the other closed cafes out, forcing them to leave and return to work, and then they all go to the cafes that have to now reopen, where they are joined by the boutique and shop owners who have closed down for a few random hours, and sit and drink and smoke and eat and take up space until that cafe gets tired of it and closes again, forcing the working folk to either migrate to another bar, or go back and re-open their stores. And they flip a coin to see who has to make breakfast. Which is fine in a way, because I longer feel compelled to tip, which is nice because I need to jam econo for a few days, two 50 Euro notes gone missing, either lost, dropped, stolen, shortchanged, or blown through in a drunken binge that I don¬ít recall. My brief period of economic expansion is closed, and having trekked about 12 miles today, I¬ím glad I did not toss ouot the Mizunos in Milan. But, this has to bode poorly for a town seemingly in the middle of construction boom, much renovation and tons of new construction, more cranes than I can remember seeing in any other town. Someone¬ís going to have to serve those people food and drink. The smell of french fries oft fills the air, not from the McDonald¬ís on every 3rd corner, but from the fleet of biodiesel buses that zip by, and unable to find a snack around 7, I almost went to a Burger King on general principles, but then I remembered that my general principles prohibit me from going to Burger King. But if this joint ain¬ít serving breakfast again tomorrow, it¬ís croissanwich time.
|30th Aug 2007 Valenicia: Big Head|
|30th Aug 2007 Valencia: What's that in his mouf?|
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