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Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Beach alcohol and neon

I thought Barcelona was bad.

There once was a beautiful town on the Costa Brava called Lloret. Easyjet and Ryanair are flying guiris in by the planeload. Packs for around two hundred euros promise a staggering good time with cigarette-strewn beaches, cheap pension hotels, and discos that smell like ass...

From an article in El Periodico:

Las luces de neón rompiendo la noche, turbas de gente por la calle, risas, gritos [...] promesas de diversión barata: tres cubatas a dos euros, medio litro de cerveza a uno y medio, tequila a cero coma 90...

The neon lights breaking the night, crowds of people in the street, laughter, shouts [...] promises of cheap diversion: three cuba libres for two euros, half a liter of beer for one and a half, tequila for 90 cents...

This part was particularly poetic:

La luz de neón otorga falso brillo a un tipo de farra bárbaro y cabestro que, casi siempre, acaba con el hígado prensado y la vomitera en la acera.

The neon light grants false brightness to barbarian and brutish types of parties that, almost always, end with a ruined liver and barf on the sidewalk.

I think I had one of those nights in Tijuana many moons ago. But I wasn't the fool riding the electric bull spewing technicolor chunks. That was another gringo. Ah, the memories.