8th September, 2004 // Spain
Eating Fuet, Drinking Beer
Im sitting in a dark, air conditioned room. Jazz music is playing. Smooth, airy jazz. The taste of Spanish beer and Fuet is in my mouth. Whenever I eat Fuet, or Chorizo i always get little pieces of fat stuck in my teeth.
I am in Valencia. The Spanish pronounce it as Balenthia. The Spanish Lisp. Lithp.
Some times I think people need to just enjoy simple pleasures. A great cup of coffee, or good jazz.
Eduardo is a home grown Spaniard, but he speaks english near fluently and with a British accent. Stairs 3, floor 2, door 6. This is now the 8th unknown person whom I have met on one of my various accomadation websites that I have stayed with. My mother says she worrys, staying with random people I dont know. You gotta love your mother, if they didnt worry who would?
Im not sure exactly how long ive been in spain. Maybe 2 weeks. Its easy to loose track of time when it doesnt control you. Suckers.
Valencia, is... well its nice. Hot, no sun though. I picked a crummy time to come to Spain. Let me tell you, the rain in Spain doesnt stay mainly on the plain.
I feel vaugely trapped. Which is silly.
Germany is on the Horizon. Sunday, 23:40. Be there or be square.
In case you are wondering, fuet and chorizo are spansish peperoni. Sort of.
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