why sightseeing and hangovers don't mix

This afternoon was spent walking along downtown Barcelona surrounded by the city's oldest and most magnificent cathedrals built within very short distances from each other in Barri Gotic and all all I pretty much did was brace myself for what seemed inevitable: the splatter of my own bile mixed with all the liqour I had imbibed last night. 

The smell of old stones basking in glory of the only bright sun-shiny day of my Barcelona trip was charming, yes, but I was more overwhelmed by the smell of Jack Daniels seeping out of my pores.

There were plenty of moments that I so badly wanted to look up and take pictures of Barri's great gothic structures.  And I did--well, I kind of tried. Each miserable effort was countered with the goddamn earth swirling on cue. 

As if it wasn't enough that it took me an hour to find Barri Gotic because I was too dizzy to read the map, much less maneuver my way around the labyrinth that is Las Ramblas, I didn't even know if the nausea I was feeling whenever I stepped in to a cathedral was because I was really sick to my stomach from being so intoxicated the night before or if I was getting a "no trespassing" message direct via satellite from heaven.

Don't get me wrong--I enjoyed this afternoon a lot. I merely regret not being able to see and enjoy more of the city simply because of my lack of moderation last night.

Did I learn a perfectly significant lesson today? Si. Am I going to remember it the next time I go on a drinking spree? Hellz no.

Am I having the absolute time of my life?  You betcha!

Hasta luego.

"Por favor, señor...no en mi culo. Tengo un novio!"

All these weeks of trying to learn Spanish from an audio tape and all I've mastered saying is:

"Por favor, señor... no en mi culo. Tengo un novio!"

And I probably wrote that incorrectly. So fuck you all latin bitches.

Last night, I got yelled at for having some cappucino in the evening--not really my fault. I was having dinner with this Milano whom I met at the gym yesterday and I really did order a cafe con leche, but in most of these places I've been to so far in Spain, you ask for a cafe con leche, they give you a damn cappucino. Apparently, most Euro bitches only drink it in the morning. .

Hey, I knew that. But if I can barely order anything in Spanish, how do you expect me to complain? Right now, there's a dead fly in my morning tea. How do you say "There's a fly in my fucking tea?" Ugh!

I've been getting e-mails from friends asking about my trip (as if I don't friggin' talk about myself enough), so I figured I'd write some blogs during my trip to keep every one updated.

Spain, so far, has been a hoot. In my hotel in Barcelona right now, enjoying a nice spanish omelette for breakfast while Madonna's stupid new single is on repeat. The damn metro gays are the same everywhere. Madonna comes out with something, and no matter how stupid it sounds, they lap it up like thirsty kittens at last call for milk. Anyways, I'm staying at a "straight friendly" hotel in Spain. Haha. Does it get any gayer than this?

I'd been running around visiting places since I arrived in Spain last week. I stayed in Madrid with my boyfriend, Gabi, for the first couple of days and then we headed out to his family's ranch in the Asturian province. The place is so ancient that his house is hidded in the mountains, surrounded by these castle ruins and horses running about--some are untamed. So as much as I wanted to don my Princess Buttercup outfit and frolick along the hills, I didn't want some damn horse trampling me in the process. I digress...

Gabi and I spent a lovely weekend alone in Andrin in Asturia. It was waaaay worth the 12 hour roundtrip drive. We also took a quick drive to Llanes, this old, charming nearby town with more ruins and old people who are so not used to appreciating the grace and beauty of my Pacific Islander roots. Oh well, when I said old town--I didn't mean just the town. ::wink:: On our last evening there, we had dinner at this parilla place where the have this wood fired grill about 20 feet long. I swear I heard the poor octopus squeal when they threw it on the grill. Just kidding. I'm in Spain, not China!

I flew into Barcelona yesterday morning, promising Gabi I'd be back by the end of this week so I can spend more quality time with him. Today is a bit rainy, so I really don't want to step out and go sight seeing. Started out with this detailed itinerary that pretty much turned into more of a to-do and "would like to see while I'm here" list.

Hey, if I'm on vacation, do I really want to subject myself to following a strict schedule? Hell to the N.O.!

The boys in Spain are gorgeous and a lot of them are NOT SHY. If I told you the number of times I'd been approached by a young Spanish man looking for love, it will make you barf. I think I threw up a little in my mouth the last time it happened. You would seriously think I'm just boasting. Makes it a challenge to remember sometimes that I have a bf, but I haven't really been tempted.

I know Gabi's very special to me. I'd even go as far as declaring to my friends that I am in love with the man, who in two weeks will again be thousands of miles away from me.

Whoever said love is a cakewalk down candy lane?

In the meantime, I just need to keep the faith and commit to memory the line I had written above in Spanish. It should come very handy at least until the end of my trip. :-)

a weekend in the Asturian province

Gab and I made a weekend trip to his family ranch at Playa Andrin in the Asturian Province.

art in Madrid

Spent the day pretending to be a schoolboy on a field trip. Visited Museo del Prado and the Royal Garden. I also tried to familiarize myself with Madrid's subway system, which, by the way, is leagues better and cleaner than the NYC system.

 

Still getting the weird stares. .. even from other asian people. Is my hair too red again? Damn you, Feria!!!

Day 1 in Spain

The 7-hour flight wasn't bad. Right now I'm too excited to finally be in Madrid to think of anything else. That's a lie, actually. I'm REALLY anxious to see Gab. It has only been a little over two weeks since he left the U.S. to permanently live here in Spain.

All I have for now is a note on his bed saying I should make myself at home and that he will see me around 6 pm.

It was a pain trying to find his apartment, however. With very little spoken Spanish and absolutely no sense of direction, I ended up having to lug all my crap for a whole hour to find his building as I was too intimidated to hail a cab and give directions en Espanol. And speaking of his apartment building, it is OOOOOOLD. Very charming and clean, though. If anything, his neighbors seem a wee bit snobbish. I wonder if it's because it's the first time they've laid eyes on a gorgeous Filipino queen before. ::wink:: I'm mostly amused by the manual cage-like machine they call "the lift" in their building. Makes me feel very Falun Gong when I'm riding it:

Off to get lost in the streets of Madrid. Wish me luck!