Quin bon rollo aquests catalans!

I just got this email:

para el que le robaron la bici

hola!
a casa tenim una bici que no fem servir i te la podem donar però no és una gran bici, està vella i a més no va molt bé, però funciona. Se l'hauria d'arreglar i posar a punt, però es pot fer. Tu mateix. Tens aquesta opció.

Salut!

For the one who had his bicycle stolen

At home we have a bicycle that we don't use and we can give it to you but it is not a great bicycle, it is old and furthermore doesn't operate very well. It would be necessary to fix and tune it up, but it is doable. Your call. You have this option.

I love random acts of kindness and I would gladly have taken up on his offer had I not bought a bike yesterday for 40 euros. I've been thinking of ways to make it totally unnattractive to thieves and besides painting it hot pink or fucsia or some equally hideous color, I can't think of any. I'm not about to ride around on a pink bicycle either.

Thanks just the same!

Kovaks guest blogs on Notes From Spain

Looks like Larry Kovaks, Barcelona's premier (and possibly only) guiri detective, is back from vacation. He's guest blogging today on Ben Curtis' excellent Notes From Spain.

An open letter to the asshole who stole my bike

I hope you enjoy the bike I bought for 50 euros - the cheap beater bike that was so ugly I thought no one in their right mind would steal it. I thought wrong.

I hope you get plastered to the street by a neng driving a super-tuned Seat you unscrupulous bad-taste-having jackass.

best regards

Cerveceria Escorpio

If you look at the enlarged photo you’ll notice the guy is wearing snakeskin boots.

Here’s an interesting dive. The other day, on my way to Cine Verdi in Gracia, I walked by this place and couldn’t resist the temptation to walk in. Well, I got in, and, as expected, it was the typically sordid macho ibérico purgatory replete with cigarette strewn floors, sticky aluminum bar …. and porno magazines. That’s right, instead of 20 Minutos, or Metro, or even el Periodico, these guys had skin magazines, y nada mas. Understandably, because there was not a woman in sight. And from the looks of it, Cerveceria Escorpio hadn’t played host to one in decades.

Back for more

Catalonia is not Spain or France.

What is this place anyway? I'm really confused. Stop telling me what this place isn't si us plau, por favor, please, s'il vous plait ... too much negative energy.

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Due to a move and Telefonica’s ineptness I have been without internet for over a week. I won't bitch anymore, since bitching about Telefonica is so commonplace it's actually a cliché, and there's probably enough clichés in this blog already ...

Anyway, I’m back.

I noticed Iberian Notes has accused me of hostility towards tourists. That is simply not fair. I was a tourist once … not anymore. But I will say this:

I don’t hate tourists. I just seem to feel better when they’re not around.

John at Iberian Notes obviously doesn’t live in the center. I no longer do, fortunately, but I did drive down the Ramblas last Saturday and was appalled at the amount of tourists gawking and stumbling around.

You can hardly drive, let alone walk that drag. It’s a money-making machine for tourists. Luxury liners arrive so often you could set a clock to them. Easyjet and Ryanair constantly roar in and out of El Prat with bleary-eyed stag and hen parties …

I wasn't sure what subtitle to use: Lost Highway, The Road to Perdition, or Beer and Loathing in Lloret. Take your pick.

The center of Barcelona is almost exclusively comprised of tourists, especially this time of year. So anybody looking for the world’s biggest drunken Erasmus party can start on las Ramblas, then move on to Lloret. Good luck finding Spain.

The solution is simple: build an Easyhotel on the Forum site, construct a small world version of Spain complete with animatronic bullfighting and flamenco, and hype the encantos of “Chernobyl beach" (which is right next to a giant water-filtering plant, a short walk from the Forum site). Send all the tourists there. After a week, ship them back out …

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The view from my terrazita, 9 stories up (sobre-sobre atico). Paz.