Viva Espana

So here I sit in the Seville train station waiting for my overnight train to Barcelona, so I thought I would take this opportunity to record some observations and such. Since I don’t have finals or any papers to write I feel like the creative juices might be alive. Maybe. So I haven’t posted in awhile, and in fact I wont be able to post this entry until I actually find an internet connection. So for an update, I am in Spain. That was just in case you failed geography (is that still a class? It should be). I have been in Spain for four days as of this writing. I spent Tuesday and Wednesday in Seville and then Thursday and earlier today (Friday) in Malaga. Now I am due to spend three days in Barcelona. All in all a nice little trip if I do say so. Although part of me wishes I had chosen Madrid over Barcelona. Now you might be asking yourself, if you were in Malaga this morning, why are you in Seville again waiting for a train to Barcelona? Well there was in fact a train from Malaga, but I swear it stopped every 30 minutes all night long. That’s no way to get any sleep. The train from Seville only stops three or four times and none in the middle of the night. Much better if you ask me.
So what can I say about what I have seen so far? Andalucia (that’s the region I am in) is beautiful. They say this is the “true Spain” and I can see why since it is the home of tapas and Flamenco and bull fighting and they actually speak Spanish. You may laugh at that, but turns out people also speak Catalan and Basque and this other language that is almost like Portuguese depending upon what part of the country you are in. But not here. Here they speak good ole Spanish. By far my favorite language after English. Personally I think it needs to replace French as the official international language. And I have also learned that I can read and write Spanish much better than I thought. I was able to carry on full conversations online with Spaniards. Just so long as we don’t talk about topics I never learned the words for. Like sex. They don’t teach you the words of the sexual realm in school. Perhaps they should because I think those might be more helpful than asking directions. But no, boys and girls, despite learning some new sex words (which I promptly forgot) I have not been partaking in the Spanish men, despite the fact that I have seen some very hot ones. But little did I realize that Spaniards are in fact the shortest people in the E.U. So says the census folks at the E.U. at least. And I have to admit they are kinda short. Its almost like being in Asia, except people have such lovely tans here.
So now to the sights. Well I have certainly gotten some ideas for my dream house after seeing some of the Arab/Spanish architecture. I think I need to have courtyards with fountains. The Alcazar in Seville is absolutely beautiful with perhaps the greatest gardens ever. The Alcazaba in Malaga was a little lacking in comparison, but the castle on the hill above it gave great views over the mountains and the Mediterranean. And for the record, I did spend the afternoon on the beach in Malaga and now have officially waded in the Mediterranean. I even wore the Euro Speedo that I bought in London. But this turned out to be a mistake. First, I call it a Euro Speedo because it is not in fact Speedo brand, but is Aussiebum, a very cool gay brand that Im sure will become more mainstream soon. I also say Euro since it is not for competitive swimming like 99% of the ones in America are, and I was led to believe that Europeans wear Speedos to the beach. In fact, even in London I was informed that Spaniards wear Speedos to the beach. They Lie!! I was one of two guys on the beach wearing a Speedo. Two! And the other was probably collecting retirement benefits. Everywhere I looked were board shorts, just like in the US and UK. The only two I saw that were close to what I had were these two very hot guys who were walking down the beach wearing matching square cut speedos, the new thing in the gay world. I don’t think they were gay, and no I have no idea why they were matching. Stay tuned for tales of a bad hostel, a good hostel, the extensive search I have ever endured, and Spanish men.