The first thing I should mention is the fact that if nobody told me to put on my trousers, I’d probably leave the house naked. And so it is, with some regret, that I turned on the computer this morning and noticed that I’d forgotten to put my vacation sign up. I can but quote Eeyore: “Oh well…”
My friend, who for the sake of letter space we’ll just refer to as Mimi, and I went driving down to Spain for a holiday. We decided to take her Father’s car, because the brakes on my car don’t work too well.
Let me repeat that: We didn’t take my car, because the brakes don’t work too well.
Beer Eats
Our first stop was Beer Eats. It’s a small coastal town in France, about 200 km’s South of Bordeaux (which is a wine). We stopped there as the name suggested beer and food.
The first thing we did was put up our tents. Obviously any skill as handy as being able to put up a tent is way out of my modus operandi and I was drunk before I finished. Luckily for me it was warm and I could sleep on my blow-up bed. Together with the mosquito’s.
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Just look at my Jesus-like-sandals. The stomach has gone by the way. I’m dead sexy now, believe it or not.
For one reason or other we ended up in a French Karaoke bar. It was late and the patrons seemed to have had one wine too many. They were singing bad French songs badly and it was obvious they needed saving. So, I got up and sang them a heart warming rendition of “Just a gigolo”. Sounding like a cross between Tom Waits, Louis Armstrong and…well…Shrek basically, I stole the night.
Alas, as my song ended all hell broke loose with older women throwing their knickers at me and the younger lassies stampeding each other to rip the shirt from my chest. Mimi and I fled into the hot Beer Eats night. We left for Madrid the next day.
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This is Mimi by the way.
Madrid
Hot. Damned hot.
The most notable thing about Madrid was the toilet incident. I’m not talking about Mimi’s constipation (the poor girl can’t poo unless she’s in complete isolation, so by Madrid she was seriously back-logging…or however you wish to put it), I’m talking about my realisation that certain things are only certain things because otherwise they’d be something else completely!
I was standing shaving and fantasising about the love of my life; the girl of my dreams. And I slit my nose open. Seriously, blood was squirting out and men were diving under sinks and into toilets to save themselves from the gory shower. It was at that moment I understood that the unobtainability of the love of my life, kept her as the girl of my dreams.
How bizarre is that? If I could obtain her, then she would no longer be my ‘dream girl’!
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This is one of the streets that lead up to the Plaza Mayora. We watched Beethoven there. And there was me thinking the man was dead.
The brakes on the car packed it in and we spent a day in a Spanish garage. Oh the sweet irony of it.
Seville
By the time we got to Seville it was time for airco. I’m 34, there’s only so much 40 degrees I can take before my intestines explode.
There’s a wee tale about a monastery in Seville, that I would like to share with you. Seemingly, 90 years ago or something, a Flamenco dancer was stabbed to death during a dance by a jealous gypsy lover. It’s said that at night you can sometimes see her dancing a lament and wailing like a banshee.
So, Mimi and I set out to find this ghost of a dead dancer. And we did!
There was hardly any lighting and it was close to midnight as we crept through the cool corridors of the ancient building. The hairs on our arms and legs (and believe me Mimi has got loads of hairs all over her body) stood on end as we heard the sad wailing of the dead. I peeked around a corner and there she stood. Dead and ghastly, tormented in death as she was loved during life. Her features racked with love missed and shock of departure. My heart bled for the poor creature, so much so that I felt obliged to take her photograph.
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See the situations I creep into just to entertain?
Torremolinos
This is basically a party town, near Malaga on the Costa del Sol. The usual Tapas has been replaced with fish and chips, the Sangria has made way for cheap pints of lager and the sensual evenings on a terrace with wine have been swapped for Irish bars with loud music and shots of disgusting mixes.
It’s the sort of town that one can’t fail to have sex in. Obviously I did fail, but that’s due to not trying (or so I say anyways&hellip😉. I mean, what’s a 34 year old to say to someone 14 years younger? My best chat-up line is: “Hi, do you reckon the Rosicrusians are related to the Templars and that the grail is actually the bloodline of Jesus?”
See how far that would get me?
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I swear to God it’s not the same T-shirt! I just have lots of T-shirts in the same colour!
Granada
Towering above Granada is the Alhambra. This is a palace-castle-city built by the Moors. It’s obvious Roger’s family had money before he became famous, because I’m pretty certain this building pre-dates the Bond films.
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One of the 7 wonders of the world. I reckon it doesn’t take too much to build a wonder. I’ve seen the pyramids as well, they’re crumbling too. Pfffft…I’ve built more complicated and longer lasting things with Lego.
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This is me on top of a mountain. Not very spectacular until I mention that I suffer from horrendous vertigo.
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This is a Ruben’s in the Prado in Madrid. He’s my one of my favourite painters. Well, anything nude basically takes my fancy…
We drove over 5000 km’s, ate out 3 times a day and I had one hangover (in Torremolinos).
I read three books:
The new rulers of the world by John Pilger
A must read by anyone who’s interested in world politics. He’s one of the best journalists and his documentation on Indonesia and the children in Iraq is absolutely shocking.
The shopkeeper of Kabul by someone I don’t know
Advised by Richard and Judy…so how wrong can it be? About women in Burkas in a man dominated world.
Foucault’s pendulum by Umberto Eco.
Eat your heart out Dan Brown. This book is WAY better!
I'm just a gigolo, and everywhere I go
People know the part I'm playing
Paid for every dance
Selling each romance
Oh, what they're saying
There will come a day when youth will pass away
What will they say about me
When the end comes I know, I was just a gigolo
Life goes on without me
Originally posted by shavixmirDon't tell me you get Richard & Judy in Holland! I never want to go there again!
The first thing I should mention is the fact that if nobody told me to put on my trousers, I’d probably leave the house naked. And so it is, with some regret, that I turned on the computer this morning and noticed that I’d forgotten to pu ...[text shortened]... end comes I know, I was just a gigolo
Life goes on without me[/i]
Originally posted by StarrmanNo.
Ahh, you finally got your butt in here eh? Sheesh, you wouldn't believe the crapola we've had to deal with since you've been gone! Did you go to Cordoba? I love Cordoba, but it is frickin hot.
We skipped Cordoba.
I would have liked to have seen the Spanish desert as well (to the East), but there's only so much one can do in three weeks.