Posts Tagged ‘Fornication Fountain’


Sevilla Parte Dos: Fountain Fornication

July 23, 2007

Sorry it’s been a while, but camp is time consuming and exhausting. I finally found time to get online and update you all on what’s happening so far.

We wake up ecstatic that we have all of our money, passports, personal items and, especially, our kidneys in tact. After calling out Señor Antonio’s name a few times, I figure he’s still working it in his sex palace, so we book it out of the hostel, dropping the keys on the floor as we get out of there like the Devil’s on our heels.

We make it across the 6 lane road and walk into a park, where we’re greeted by a beautiful statue dedicated to Columbus. I start snapping shots and then I see something in the corner of my screen… I drop my camera by my side and find myself looking at a young, feisty couple doing it on the fountain. That’s right… 8 am, Saturday morning, a beautiful park in downtown Sevilla, and they’re screwing their brains out in my pictures. That’s definitely a Kodak moment.

Next we get to the Cathedral. I appreciate the architecture of Cathedrals, but I’m not amazingly turned on by them for pretty obvious reason (hint: I had a Bar Mitzvah) So we walk through the Cathedral, taking pictures of all the cool stuff and come upon a service. Now, I’ve been known to be an asshole, but usually it’s a conscious effort. This time I wasn’t even thinking about how I was wearing my wifebeater (A-shirt, Guido-T, or whatever else you may call it) throughout my tour of the Cathedral. It only dawned on me just recently when I was looking at the pictures. I apologize to all my non-Jewish friends (which is almost all of you) but if you know me, you wouldn’t expect any less.

I mentioned how the night before, I encountered a good amount of bitching for whatever reasons. Why would I think that this day would be any different? (Or as my dad would say, “Manish Tanah?” in Hebrew) Examples given:

Complaint 1: “It’s so fucking hot out. I am getting sweaty.”
Bryan’s Think-but-don’t-say 1: We’re in Spain, you putz. Swamp-ass, mud-butt and batwings are not only expected but welcomed by all.

Complaint 2: (Scene: 3 girls sitting at table in middle of the café. 1 server is walking around while 20 people are standing by the bar.)
Girl: “This place sucks. Where’s the fucking service? We’ve been sitting here forever, and that waitress won’t even look at us.”
Me: “We ordered up at the bar, and we’re just getting our food. You should all come up here.”
Girl: “No, that doesn’t make sense. That woman needs to come to us.”
(5 minutes later, as Marco and I are eating our food, the girls pull their heads out of their asses and walk up to the bar.)
Bryan’s T-b-d-s 2: My dad always said he hoped my brother and I grow up to be rich someday because we are such schmucks that we can’t figure out simple situations. I wonder what he’d say about these girls.

After breakfast, we toured around Sevilla and took in the city: the bull ring, the Royal Palace and the Plaza de Espana. All of them were interesting and beautiful in their own ways, but I definitely decided that Sevilla is not the place for me to study.

We caught the 6 pm bus back and passed out on the hour and a half ride. We had an amazing experience, from Simon Birch to Antonio’s Sex Shack to the Fornication Fountain to beautiful landmarks, but we were definitely ready for the comforts of our small, shit-smelling community we call Rota.