Posts Tagged ‘Sevilla’


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.


Sevilla Parte Uno: El Hostal

July 1, 2007

Ever since 6th grade when I started taking Spanish, I remember hearing about Sevilla, its beauty, its sites and its University. All those years of preparation finally came to fruition on Friday night.

We took a bus out of the Rota bus station at 9 pm. After an hour and half, and a semi-drunken nap, we got to Sevilla. And now a scene straight out of Eurotrip/Hostel/National Lampoon’s Family Vacation…

It starts when we are approached by a man with half his shirt unbuttoned and a giant infection/bruise on his leg, “Quieres un hotel?”

I’m thinking this is too good to be true, but what ignorant, lazy asshole American wouldn’t bask in this convenient opportunity? Of course, I reply, “Si, necesitamos un hotel economico.”

With those words, I started one of the best overnight trips I’ve ever taken. (On a side note, I always laughed when we would take a taxi to the airport and my dad would have to sit in front with the driver, forced to talk to him for the entire ride. Now I know how it feels, and I am so sorry Dad.) After an extremely long 5 minute walk, where I was forced to speak Spanish with this guy (or more like forced to smell his coffee and raw meat breath) we arrived at a doorway. Notice, I don’t say hostel entrance… that’s because there was no sign advertising the hostel. I picked up on it right away, but I decided to keep it to myself since I was appointed group navigator and felt the weight on my shoulder to make decisions for everyone.

We walk up not one, but two flights of stairs and are introduced to Antonio. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a picture of this magnificent man, but hopefully my description can provide you with an image: Antonio stands at lengthy 5’6″, he is balding with a horseshoe hair design hanging down past his ears. He has a pink shirt on, which is also unbuttoned to the extent that I can see half of a nipple. He is drenched in sweat… especially with little beads on top of his freshly waxed head. If I could compare him to anyone in a movie, he most resembles the “Mi Scuzzi” guy from the train ride in Eurotrip that keeps feeling up the guy in the rail car but older and sleazier.

So Antonio starts showing me around. We cover that I need two rooms for 5 people, so he shows me his two “best” rooms. As we tour around, I’m realizing this is no ordinary hostel, but I don’t want to ruin the upcoming surprise for you… So he shows us how the water works (actually turning the sink on and off), he shows us the “air conditioning” which are two 15-year-old floor fans and he shows us the third mattress for our 5th person (a twin mattress probably teaming with bodily function stains). Oh, I can’t forget… my room had a refrigerator… which Antonio emphasized, “See… refrigerador… uh-fridge-ah… Es cool, no?” He sold me with that little sales pitch.

Marco excited about the refrigerator in our room.

So, we decide to rent the two rooms (it was a steal at 15 Euro, so we had to.) Right after we pay and provide false identification information, the complaining begins from all sides:

“This place is gross.”
“Did you see this bed? It’s gross! I’m definitely sleeping in my clothes.”
“Is he going to steal our shit? I don’t trust him.”
“Bryan, if our shit is stolen, I’m going to kill you.”

So, my quasi-hold on the Spanish language landed me in a tight spot. I assured everyone we’d be fine, but I was freaking out because I had no idea what tricks Antonio had up his sleeve.

We take a few minutes to get settled, leave our stuff in our rooms and double check the door locks. Meanwhile, preparing for the worst, I’m carrying my wallet, passport, iPod, headphones, translator and an extra pair of boxers (I love cargo shorts).

We walk outside, and I have this urge to ask the bar manager next door if this hostel is safe.
“Señor, esta seguro el hotel al lado?” (Is the hostel next door safe, sir?)
“No digo nada!” (I’m not saying anything!)

HOLY SHIT! So now I’ve confirmed that my money and stuff is tied up in a shady hostel. I’m freaking out, but I keep my cool and tell the group the guy won’t say anything, but that doesn’t mean it’s negative… he may just not know that much about it. (Yeah right!)

We go out on the town and run into Simon Birch (Spanish Version). Yeah, I’m an a-hole, but you’d agree with the resemblance if you could have seen him. He had a beautiful, tall, slender blonde girlfriend (total mismatch), but it all made sense when we saw her pick her nose…. and eat it, too. I thought I took a really good sneaky video of it, too, but it was too dark to catch her digging for gold.

After one drink, we walk back to the hostel because we want to be with our stuff. We get upstairs, look into our rooms and realize the sheets still have not been laid on the bed. I yell for Antonio… who comes downstairs sweating even moreso now and buttoning up his shirt. He goes and gets sheets for us, and has me help him put them on. He also holds up a flat sheet and shows us both sides, saying “Limpio! Yes? Limpio!” to prove that there are no piss, blood or shit stains on it. Then he lays it right on our one body pillow. That’s right, my roommate and I got to share one elongated pillow the entire night… no head to foot going on in this hostel. Oh, and we discovered upon opening our fridge, that it was actually an oven in disguise. We almost burnt our fingers inside the freezer… figure that one out.

Marco and I are getting ready for our overnight bonding experience when Antonio comes back in with a dustpan and broom. Like a good host, he sweeps out the shower stall and then washes it with the shower head. We laughed as we saw black water draining into the corner of the stall. He leaves, I try to fall asleep with my roommate a foot away from my face, my wallet in one pocket and my passport in the other.

Still haven’t figured out how to rotate the pics with this program, but that’s Marco making sure the shower was clean and sterilized!

Asleep, dreaming about the movie Hostel and wondering how much I would be sold for, I’m woken up suddenly…

– – – – repeat for about 10 minutes – – – –

I tap Marco to wake him up because I’m thinking this is hilarious. He turns his face into the pillow, and I laugh for the next couple of minutes. By minute 3, the novelty wears off, and I really want to go back to bed. Finally, minute 10 arrives, and I hear absolute silence. I’m falling asleep, and all of a sudden we hear…

EEEEEE-URRRRRR EEEEEEE-URRRRRRR EEEEEEE-URRRRRR E-UR E-UR E-UR EEEEE-URRRRR E-UR E-UR E-UR E-UR (in case you can’t figure that out, it’s the bed squeaking)

I’m thinking, ‘Great, I’m screwed. This is going to go on for hours.’ A minute later, silence! Thank God for minute men!

We wake up the next morning, check to make sure we have both our kidneys, our money, our passports. Surprise… everything is there! Antonio wasn’t such a bad guy after all… he’s just the slimy owner of a sex shack in Sevilla, Spain…. everyone has their vices.

Before we left, we got a chance to see our neighbors through a crack in their door. The picture came out blurry, and I wish I could have done better, but let’s just say these two should have been on exhibit in the Jerez Zoo. The guy was wearing boy shorts that highlighted the forest of hair running from his asshole to his neck. The woman or what resembled a woman looked like a guest straight off the Jerry Springer show. Nicest way to put it, she was extremely fugly, and that’s being generous.

Look closely, and you can see the forest of hair on his back. Absolutely disgusting.

Stay tuned… there’s much more where this came from. Adios.


Isla Mierda

June 27, 2007

Wednesdays are field trip days for our camp. It sounds like it would be a blast, but it’s so nerveracking to keep track of so many kids in public. At least when we are on base, we have activities and know where to go. In public, it’s a whole different ball game.

Today we got to go to a theme park called Isla Magica in Sevilla, about an hour and half away. Notice the title of this entry… it says it all.

The park was packed full of amazing rides. Let’s see… there was the log flume that went about a mile per hour, the water was piss yellow in some parts and it smelled like goat shit after the first drop. Then we got on the dragon ride. All the kids were so excited for the “scary dragon ride,” which turned out to be Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride (from Disney World) with technology from 40 years ago. It was like a low budget Legends of the Hidden Temple. All I could do was laugh as we passed by cardboard Tiki cutouts. Would have been more scary to drive us past a band full of hyped up Gypsies. Still, I think one of the kids may have crapped their pants.

We also go to hit up the River Rapids, the Cyclone and the Yo-yo. And they all… you guessed it… blew a big elephant nut. The best ride of all… the bus ride home when I got to sleep a little bit.

Don’t get me wrong. I love seeing the sights, and my kids are awesome, but there’s a reason why it should be called Isla Mierda.

On a positive note, the week is half over. This week is flying by. We are gearing up to go to Sevilla on Friday night, which will be wicked fun. It will be nice to see Sevilla on our own time without having to worry about our kids. Gotta go shower… still got some hints of Mierda on me. Adios amigos.