Day.
arrive at the station north-triumphal arch. Tired, puffy eyes and eyelids heavy as cast iron blocks. The Checco comes to pick us, the face of one who gave the night before, and a lot too. We do mini-subscription to the underground and bring the suitcases to piso. Our location in piso Calle Valencia No. 470 , two minutes walk to the Sagrada Familia . Checco's room is disgusting, it's a asco as they say here, for two to four meters confuzione and dirty clothes. But the posters on the wall overlooking the entire sample of Europe: respect. We go down the street and now we stop at a little bar: tres cañas porfa . Y otros tres. Let's go home and know Fausto, the Andalusian girl who lives with us. They gave him an Italian name because it has a Italian grandmother who knows where. We shower, put on a costume and go to the beach, Barceloneta destination.
the first traffic light passing a car with two surrogates of Indians within: have fallen asleep in coche. Any attempt to wake them is futile. Fortunately Fausto works as a nurse in a clinic and ensures that all the two Indians borrachos are alive. The Guardia Urbana takes half an hour to arrive and, after a few laughs, makes evacuate all the curious gathered to take to slap the two pilots in a coma without this beat eyelid. We pass by the Monumental
or the arena where bullfights are held. The last because next year will no longer be legal: in Catalunya have been abolished. It is impressive from the outside a lot. Handsome looking less what they do inside. Go ahead, cross the park Ciutat Vella , we see the fountain (which is a bit 'reminds me of The Altar of the Fatherland) and Castell Dels Tres Dragons . We get to Barceloneta finally because Burga was tired of walking. Here we see an old freak supertatuato, just do not realize that he is naked: he tattooed buttocks completely, seems to be wearing panties, but not You can not pretend not to see a "truncheon" in Rocco Siffredi's that hanging between her thighs, que asco! disgusted and tired after a long way to walk and travel on the shoulders, there cagiamo on the beach. The Burg is asleep.
We decide to go back home. On the streets of Barceloneta is the Buskers Festival, a festival of street artists (English busker in itself means a street artist), if I remember correctly, in Italy we have seen from parts of Ferrara. Barceloneta is a lot modern detached from the rest of the city. Among skyscrapers, fountains and other modern architectures we see the Arc de Triomphe. In the evening, Checco, from good Italian cooks for everyone. After dinner we moved to another piso, where there's three guys that nobody knows: Uri, Alejandro y Gina. I find that they are friends of Fau. They are the classic English children, rowdy and outgoing. Chupitos some booze to the house, then opting for Razzmatazz, a superdiscoteca on five floors. 15 € drink more: honest. There happens a bit 'of everything, there are a lot of Italians - they recognize right away - and gay - we now recognize them also. Razzmatazz from back home on foot, the three of us: we lost Fausto, the three new boys and girls of the piso. We stopped to take a churros and a beer. Let's take a siesta every bench. And each time the bench Burga falls asleep, like Grandfather Abraham. Finally back to the piso and go to bed son las seis y media de la mañana . Not a bad first day.
Day.
We woke up at about two and a half, we are well rested, I want to go see the Camp Nou Burga and Checco and convinced to accompany me. We eat a bowl of noodles in a kind of diner, the Burg calls a salad, I know the liver begs for mercy. Here the bars are all run by Chinese or North African or South American. After a bit 'street walk, a bit' of a meter and a little more 'street walk to get there. The museum only closes the Camp Nou on Sunday afternoon ... "What day is today?" that bad luck. I am content to do only a few pictures from outside, along with some other tourists as I was fucked.
from animal to be good and Burga Checco izquierdo convinced not to go see a bullfight at Monumental. Checco So we tend to see the Parc Güell, the famous Gaudi's salamander, and everything else. The park overlooks the city. There is a terrace, you see them all: Las Ramblas, the historic town center, el Gotico, El Raval and skyscrapers, including the Torre Agbar which is here called friendly el consolador (vibrator). Really nice.
Let's go home, eat and prepare to exit. We went in the Barri Gotic , Enter the Polaroid Bar. It's very '80s, Las Cañas y los chupitos do not cost a cock and then let us inside. We move away, always Carrer Dels Codols to Mariachi is the space of Manu Chao. The mariachi bands are the typical Mexican-three-four with two guitars and vocals, you often see in movies. It is a very typical site, there's a guy who plays guitar and sings por un beso de la flaca daria lo que Fuera ... of Jarabe De Palo. I really like this place! We go out, walk a bit '. In reality they are two days that we walk a bit ': better to take a taxi. We do carry the Olympic harbor. At the Olympic Port there are a lot of small disco, where you pay nothing to enter but a cocktail costs so much. Better to take the beer from a € paki there before. You could not drink on the street in Barcelona, \u200b\u200bbut if you're not an asshole no one says anything. Best not to provoke the Mossos D'Esquadra
... I do not have more, we go home on foot. It's six. I'm going to bed, Isspro Burga and Checco play up to eight. Burga is totally denied and fail to beat Israel with Germany (the teams in case ...). They can not even beat France and Italy. It's Monday morning and Christel, the Frenchman who lives in our piso, wakes up to go to work - ¡Hola! - Checco while Burga and defamed the players Bleus - ¡Hola!
third day.
resaca ¡Que hoy! We cooked this afternoon we are at home playing with the play. Israel seems unbeatable. Burga is really low, I me the cable, but Checco always manages to beat me. Que cabron! I am beginning to become familiar with English, is a language that I like: it has some great sounds, j, the s, c. ..
In the late afternoon we go out, go to the shop to prepare the paella. Take rice, fish and vegetables. Let's go home and starts cooking Checco goats while we help him, set the table and prepare the kalimotxo , a curious drink of Basque origin, composed half of vino tinto (quality Tavernello) Coca-Cola and the other half. The PC has Checco, here called the ordenador. In Spain they have a little 'to translate all the madness, and what does not translate pronounce it their way, for example: LuckyStrike are LuquiStrique, or more simply Luque. The checco tells of a guy who once said: "más peligroso que estas en Maguivér a ferreteria"
"Maguiver?"
"but yes, you know what makes the atomic bomb with a paper clip ..."
"ah ! McGyver "
" que?! Maguiver ..! "What
goats! But have free wireless for everyone, and this is a great thing, good cake, one in one! I am very curious, and I want to learn so Fausto teaches me English, even swear words. He tells us that the Mitsubishi Pajero Montero in Spain have called, because in English paja pajero means wanker and saw. What a story!
is ready on the table. Together we eat the good of Checco paella: cook, Burga, Fau, French and I just do not trust our Silvia cocinero. The Silvia is a Catalan girl who lives with us and speaks Italian very well because he made the Erasmus in Pesaro.
It's late, but we go out, stay at home Fau "Porque mañana trabajo", which package has the shift from two to seven de la later. Checks must lead us to ' Apolo, a place where every Monday make Nasty Monday. Need a guide! We take a taxi because it is already one and the subway closes at midnight. Taxis are very cheap, you pay € y cincuenta in three. Apolo is a queue to enter the Madonna, then gave up the idea and drink a mojito ( a cincuenta y tres €! ) in the front bar. Let's go around the Barri Raval (by Ravana ...) or the former slum in the city. Have to walk very well there. But good thing is that the real Barcelona. You find an open bar today - it's still Monday and two in the morning in Catalunya. Not much tonight, going home on foot after traveling around the Raval and Las Ramblas. It is relatively early, but they are the four steps.
fourth day.
We wake up early: It is one o'clock. Let's go downtown for shopping, tourists that good! Seeking t-shirt of Catalan nationalists, the Catalan Selecció . We walk to Passeig de Gracia , snap some photos. Let's take a trip to one of the many shops FC Barcelona, \u200b\u200bthe city is full of them. Here for Barca are really possessed. There are the facades of buildings covered with tents Blaugrana players, Piqué is the idol of the house as Messi, Iniesta and Xavi, maybe even more since Barcelonina .
We enter a huge store, there is everything, from sports to television, from books at the bar. A salesman tells me that the Catalan national team is not there, because this year they did not then the friendly camiseta was not produced. I stay sick. Checco and I turn and down the breadth of the six floors of the store and not finding Burga. Anything, we lost. What a goat! We decide continue to turn to the center. Brings me to see the cathedral and shops selling souvenirs. RCD Espanyol buy the shirt for a friend. Back to home through the Raval. We drink from parts of the dos cagnas MACBA, the Museum of Contemporary Art in Barcelona - where all skateboarders are let loose in front of the city. Shit, there are a lot! Let Plaça Reial to and the Plaça de la Universitat , where a homeless person I Scrocca Pepsi. Near piso there is a souvenir shop run by Indians, I have not found the Selecció camiseta then buy the Catalan flag Lliure Catalunya, Catalonia Free. Here almost all think so, in fact for the world celebrated only tourists and those who support the four cats Espanyol, the only ones to feel in English Catalunya. The Checco is a good contract and lowers the price of the flag from twenty to ten euro. We go to
piso, and we find Burga, who bought a map and was able to return home. While we came home, we had made a journey: we found his glasses on the floor, down the street with a cracked lens and scoured for signs of a car: the kidnapping of a wealthy Italian tourist, a classic. We get to hang out with Fausto
nosotros, fuck is our last evening. The Checco promises to lead us in a room, the Wall Street Bar , or something like that. Then he changed his mind because he does not want to be haunted by two bad pussy - his words - that run behind him and Fau - always his words. Then we go around the Gothic. On foot, for a change. Take a kebab from the Maghreb, Burga calls Dürüm de polla, perhaps it was a better Dürüm de pollo ... After dinner we resume our tour of the Gothic. We go to Nevermind in Calle Escudellers Blancs, do not tell you that it's very Seattle. Cuatro cervezas. The speakers sound Slaves and Bulldozers of the Sound Garden and discovered with pleasant surprise that Fausto listen to Grunge. We are close to Carrer dels Codols and go back to Polaroid Bar, because there is so much and drink and spend little. "Cuatro cañas por favor." Cuatro chupitos. Cañas y otros cuatro cuatro y otros cuatro. Fuck, it's our last night. Come to Mariachi. Cagnas otros cuatro y cuatro. Y otros tres, tres Fau because she does not drink, "mañana trabajo." Outside we meet with four French Mariachi, a black man with dreadlocks smoking a joint, an old freak, a girl stops and a big man with the fisherman's hat that reminds me of Chad Smith, drummer of Red Hot. This tells us that first lived in Italy, but now lives in Barcelona and here is unlearning the Italian. We throw a bucket of water. And another that takes into full French. And he does not take it even worse, so it is hot and then mejor que a mead. ¡W la compañia de los salidos! Let's go to Las Ramblas and go home. Fausto goes to bed:
"mañana trabajo"
"is true!" The
Checco ago spaghetti. The Burg is out and prepare para todos los kalimotxos. Finally, after four days, he learned to say no and Calimocho caramucio, calimero ... What a goat! I fall asleep on the couch while the others play to play. What a shame, the holiday is over, but Israel is still to beat ...
arrive at the station north-triumphal arch. Tired, puffy eyes and eyelids heavy as cast iron blocks. The Checco comes to pick us, the face of one who gave the night before, and a lot too. We do mini-subscription to the underground and bring the suitcases to piso. Our location in piso Calle Valencia No. 470 , two minutes walk to the Sagrada Familia . Checco's room is disgusting, it's a asco as they say here, for two to four meters confuzione and dirty clothes. But the posters on the wall overlooking the entire sample of Europe: respect. We go down the street and now we stop at a little bar: tres cañas porfa . Y otros tres. Let's go home and know Fausto, the Andalusian girl who lives with us. They gave him an Italian name because it has a Italian grandmother who knows where. We shower, put on a costume and go to the beach, Barceloneta destination.
the first traffic light passing a car with two surrogates of Indians within: have fallen asleep in coche. Any attempt to wake them is futile. Fortunately Fausto works as a nurse in a clinic and ensures that all the two Indians borrachos are alive. The Guardia Urbana takes half an hour to arrive and, after a few laughs, makes evacuate all the curious gathered to take to slap the two pilots in a coma without this beat eyelid. We pass by the Monumental
or the arena where bullfights are held. The last because next year will no longer be legal: in Catalunya have been abolished. It is impressive from the outside a lot. Handsome looking less what they do inside. Go ahead, cross the park Ciutat Vella , we see the fountain (which is a bit 'reminds me of The Altar of the Fatherland) and Castell Dels Tres Dragons . We get to Barceloneta finally because Burga was tired of walking. Here we see an old freak supertatuato, just do not realize that he is naked: he tattooed buttocks completely, seems to be wearing panties, but not You can not pretend not to see a "truncheon" in Rocco Siffredi's that hanging between her thighs, que asco! disgusted and tired after a long way to walk and travel on the shoulders, there cagiamo on the beach. The Burg is asleep.
We decide to go back home. On the streets of Barceloneta is the Buskers Festival, a festival of street artists (English busker in itself means a street artist), if I remember correctly, in Italy we have seen from parts of Ferrara. Barceloneta is a lot modern detached from the rest of the city. Among skyscrapers, fountains and other modern architectures we see the Arc de Triomphe. In the evening, Checco, from good Italian cooks for everyone. After dinner we moved to another piso, where there's three guys that nobody knows: Uri, Alejandro y Gina. I find that they are friends of Fau. They are the classic English children, rowdy and outgoing. Chupitos some booze to the house, then opting for Razzmatazz, a superdiscoteca on five floors. 15 € drink more: honest. There happens a bit 'of everything, there are a lot of Italians - they recognize right away - and gay - we now recognize them also. Razzmatazz from back home on foot, the three of us: we lost Fausto, the three new boys and girls of the piso. We stopped to take a churros and a beer. Let's take a siesta every bench. And each time the bench Burga falls asleep, like Grandfather Abraham. Finally back to the piso and go to bed son las seis y media de la mañana . Not a bad first day.
Day.
We woke up at about two and a half, we are well rested, I want to go see the Camp Nou Burga and Checco and convinced to accompany me. We eat a bowl of noodles in a kind of diner, the Burg calls a salad, I know the liver begs for mercy. Here the bars are all run by Chinese or North African or South American. After a bit 'street walk, a bit' of a meter and a little more 'street walk to get there. The museum only closes the Camp Nou on Sunday afternoon ... "What day is today?" that bad luck. I am content to do only a few pictures from outside, along with some other tourists as I was fucked.
from animal to be good and Burga Checco izquierdo convinced not to go see a bullfight at Monumental. Checco So we tend to see the Parc Güell, the famous Gaudi's salamander, and everything else. The park overlooks the city. There is a terrace, you see them all: Las Ramblas, the historic town center, el Gotico, El Raval and skyscrapers, including the Torre Agbar which is here called friendly el consolador (vibrator). Really nice.
Let's go home, eat and prepare to exit. We went in the Barri Gotic , Enter the Polaroid Bar. It's very '80s, Las Cañas y los chupitos do not cost a cock and then let us inside. We move away, always Carrer Dels Codols to Mariachi is the space of Manu Chao. The mariachi bands are the typical Mexican-three-four with two guitars and vocals, you often see in movies. It is a very typical site, there's a guy who plays guitar and sings por un beso de la flaca daria lo que Fuera ... of Jarabe De Palo. I really like this place! We go out, walk a bit '. In reality they are two days that we walk a bit ': better to take a taxi. We do carry the Olympic harbor. At the Olympic Port there are a lot of small disco, where you pay nothing to enter but a cocktail costs so much. Better to take the beer from a € paki there before. You could not drink on the street in Barcelona, \u200b\u200bbut if you're not an asshole no one says anything. Best not to provoke the Mossos D'Esquadra
... I do not have more, we go home on foot. It's six. I'm going to bed, Isspro Burga and Checco play up to eight. Burga is totally denied and fail to beat Israel with Germany (the teams in case ...). They can not even beat France and Italy. It's Monday morning and Christel, the Frenchman who lives in our piso, wakes up to go to work - ¡Hola! - Checco while Burga and defamed the players Bleus - ¡Hola!
third day.
resaca ¡Que hoy! We cooked this afternoon we are at home playing with the play. Israel seems unbeatable. Burga is really low, I me the cable, but Checco always manages to beat me. Que cabron! I am beginning to become familiar with English, is a language that I like: it has some great sounds, j, the s, c. ..
In the late afternoon we go out, go to the shop to prepare the paella. Take rice, fish and vegetables. Let's go home and starts cooking Checco goats while we help him, set the table and prepare the kalimotxo , a curious drink of Basque origin, composed half of vino tinto (quality Tavernello) Coca-Cola and the other half. The PC has Checco, here called the ordenador. In Spain they have a little 'to translate all the madness, and what does not translate pronounce it their way, for example: LuckyStrike are LuquiStrique, or more simply Luque. The checco tells of a guy who once said: "más peligroso que estas en Maguivér a ferreteria"
"Maguiver?"
"but yes, you know what makes the atomic bomb with a paper clip ..."
"ah ! McGyver "
" que?! Maguiver ..! "What
goats! But have free wireless for everyone, and this is a great thing, good cake, one in one! I am very curious, and I want to learn so Fausto teaches me English, even swear words. He tells us that the Mitsubishi Pajero Montero in Spain have called, because in English paja pajero means wanker and saw. What a story!
is ready on the table. Together we eat the good of Checco paella: cook, Burga, Fau, French and I just do not trust our Silvia cocinero. The Silvia is a Catalan girl who lives with us and speaks Italian very well because he made the Erasmus in Pesaro.
It's late, but we go out, stay at home Fau "Porque mañana trabajo", which package has the shift from two to seven de la later. Checks must lead us to ' Apolo, a place where every Monday make Nasty Monday. Need a guide! We take a taxi because it is already one and the subway closes at midnight. Taxis are very cheap, you pay € y cincuenta in three. Apolo is a queue to enter the Madonna, then gave up the idea and drink a mojito ( a cincuenta y tres €! ) in the front bar. Let's go around the Barri Raval (by Ravana ...) or the former slum in the city. Have to walk very well there. But good thing is that the real Barcelona. You find an open bar today - it's still Monday and two in the morning in Catalunya. Not much tonight, going home on foot after traveling around the Raval and Las Ramblas. It is relatively early, but they are the four steps.
fourth day.
We wake up early: It is one o'clock. Let's go downtown for shopping, tourists that good! Seeking t-shirt of Catalan nationalists, the Catalan Selecció . We walk to Passeig de Gracia , snap some photos. Let's take a trip to one of the many shops FC Barcelona, \u200b\u200bthe city is full of them. Here for Barca are really possessed. There are the facades of buildings covered with tents Blaugrana players, Piqué is the idol of the house as Messi, Iniesta and Xavi, maybe even more since Barcelonina .
We enter a huge store, there is everything, from sports to television, from books at the bar. A salesman tells me that the Catalan national team is not there, because this year they did not then the friendly camiseta was not produced. I stay sick. Checco and I turn and down the breadth of the six floors of the store and not finding Burga. Anything, we lost. What a goat! We decide continue to turn to the center. Brings me to see the cathedral and shops selling souvenirs. RCD Espanyol buy the shirt for a friend. Back to home through the Raval. We drink from parts of the dos cagnas MACBA, the Museum of Contemporary Art in Barcelona - where all skateboarders are let loose in front of the city. Shit, there are a lot! Let Plaça Reial to and the Plaça de la Universitat , where a homeless person I Scrocca Pepsi. Near piso there is a souvenir shop run by Indians, I have not found the Selecció camiseta then buy the Catalan flag Lliure Catalunya, Catalonia Free. Here almost all think so, in fact for the world celebrated only tourists and those who support the four cats Espanyol, the only ones to feel in English Catalunya. The Checco is a good contract and lowers the price of the flag from twenty to ten euro. We go to
piso, and we find Burga, who bought a map and was able to return home. While we came home, we had made a journey: we found his glasses on the floor, down the street with a cracked lens and scoured for signs of a car: the kidnapping of a wealthy Italian tourist, a classic. We get to hang out with Fausto
nosotros, fuck is our last evening. The Checco promises to lead us in a room, the Wall Street Bar , or something like that. Then he changed his mind because he does not want to be haunted by two bad pussy - his words - that run behind him and Fau - always his words. Then we go around the Gothic. On foot, for a change. Take a kebab from the Maghreb, Burga calls Dürüm de polla, perhaps it was a better Dürüm de pollo ... After dinner we resume our tour of the Gothic. We go to Nevermind in Calle Escudellers Blancs, do not tell you that it's very Seattle. Cuatro cervezas. The speakers sound Slaves and Bulldozers of the Sound Garden and discovered with pleasant surprise that Fausto listen to Grunge. We are close to Carrer dels Codols and go back to Polaroid Bar, because there is so much and drink and spend little. "Cuatro cañas por favor." Cuatro chupitos. Cañas y otros cuatro cuatro y otros cuatro. Fuck, it's our last night. Come to Mariachi. Cagnas otros cuatro y cuatro. Y otros tres, tres Fau because she does not drink, "mañana trabajo." Outside we meet with four French Mariachi, a black man with dreadlocks smoking a joint, an old freak, a girl stops and a big man with the fisherman's hat that reminds me of Chad Smith, drummer of Red Hot. This tells us that first lived in Italy, but now lives in Barcelona and here is unlearning the Italian. We throw a bucket of water. And another that takes into full French. And he does not take it even worse, so it is hot and then mejor que a mead. ¡W la compañia de los salidos! Let's go to Las Ramblas and go home. Fausto goes to bed:
"mañana trabajo"
"is true!" The
Checco ago spaghetti. The Burg is out and prepare para todos los kalimotxos. Finally, after four days, he learned to say no and Calimocho caramucio, calimero ... What a goat! I fall asleep on the couch while the others play to play. What a shame, the holiday is over, but Israel is still to beat ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment