Thursday, February 26, 2009
As all of you know, this past Tuesday was Fat Tuesday, the day to go wild and eat and drink and party before Ash Wednesday and Lent. Some of you may have even gone to Mardi Gras down in New Orleans. Well, that's basically what I did...except in Spain it is known as Carnaval, and the giant celebration spans the entire week, culminating on Tuesday night with a giant parade, fiestas on the streets, and the biggest dance party you've ever seen on the beach. And by that I mean the biggest dance party you've ever seen...which just so happened to occur on the beach. Not just the biggest dance party that you've ever seen occur on a beach. It's very important to note that distinction.
In addition to all of that, Carnaval is basically like Halloween in Spain, so there were people all over the city in masks and crazy costumes. I was also told that the city we were going to, Sitges, is the gay capital of Catalunya, the Spanish province that Barcelona is in. This was confirmed by the parade which seemed to be composed of about 70% drag queens. However, I paid little attention to the parade, which I slightly regret, as we made our way from the train directly to La Playa..the beach.
The city itself was a mess of confetti, glitter, trash, beer/liquor bottles, cops, and drunk kids. I'm trying to think of a good comparison, but unless you've been to Mardi Gras I'm not really sure how else to describe it. I'm sure most people who live in Sitges were partying as well, but I feel bad for anybody in the general area who was not in the mood to party, because their hometown was raging until at least 7 in the morning. And I can't imagine the army of people and the amount of time it would take to clean up the giant fi-mess-ta that was Carnaval in Sitges.
First off, we elected not to take the buses from Barcelona and try our luck on the train. In the end, we saved about $1oE, and the frustration after people's buses back did not show up and they had to take the train anyway. The train on the way was ridiculous. At each door at the major station where people get on, there were 2-3 police officers whose sole purpose was to pack the trains as tightly as possible. As we were waiting in the giant crowd pushing towards the door, I started asking people when the next train was coming, because there was no way we were going to get on this train. But oh, how wrong I was. Well, I actually wasn't that wrong, because I was literally the last person let on the train...rather forced onto the train. As the doors were closing I was pinballed back and forth between the back of the person in front of me and the cops hands pushing me, but I made it. I've never been in a more perfect situation to use the phrase "packed like sardines," but the train ride wasn't so bad considering i had a full flask to accompany me. I had gotten a bit split up from my friends...about one foot...which meant there were like 15 people in between us, but like I said it was fine. It was enjoyable when the whole train erupted into this Spanish drinking song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lrx4PrW1y5A&feature=related
In English, they're saying: "Alcohol, alcohol, alcohol! We came here to get drunk and the result doesn't matter at all!" Also, I still have a bit of a blood spot in my eye from the little incident I recounted in my last post, and two Spanish people thought it was some special contact lens to go along with my costume. I had to explain to them the whole story, but we ended up having a nice little conversation.
I probably should have said this earlier, but I was dressed as a pirate. For throwing it together in a day or so I think i looked pretty darrrrrrrrrrrn good. My costume consisted of: white button-down shirt, black vest (my senora's), gray pants rolled up a bit (capri-style apparently), a black scarf i tied around my waist to hold my sword (also senora's...the scarf not the sword), and this cheap pirate hat I bought at this shop around the corner. Now, you may be wondering..."Hey, Joe, what about an eye patch?" Well, I'll tell you. The eye patch was actually the whole reason I decided to be a pirate. I'm not super self-conscious about my eye, but it still looks a little weird with that big blood spot, so I thought having a costume that allows me to cover it up would be a perfect idea. Well, I bought an eye patch, and I brought it with me...but I somehow forgot it in my friend's room before we went out. An Alanis Morisette song comes to mind. Oh, well.
But, back to the action. We got off the train around 11 or 11:30 and I'd say by midnight at the latest we made it to the beach. Right on the boardwalk-type area, there were 2 giant tents...one with a DJ and some sound equipment, and the other that was selling drinks. There were also two..I think there were two..one bottle and one can..20 foot tall inflatable Estrellas (one of the two most popular beers in Spain) and a pretty wild dance party going on. But, we didn't bother with those clowns (not necessarily people dressed as clowns, although that's quite possible, but just the way I sometimes refer to a group of people not associated with me) on the boardwalk and hit the beach (la playa). Strangely enough, out of the thousands upon thousands of people we could have run into, we literally walked right into a group of our friends who took the bus and we were set. At this point the amount of people was not overwhelming, but the beach filled up more and more until 2-3 blocks of beach was totally packed with crazy dancing students...it was quite the jungle out there.
Some highlights from my time en la playa:
-The various times I danced and pranced around in the Mediterranean. It seemed like a great idea at the time, which it was, but my black leather dress shoes surely paid the price. When I got home they were still pretty soaked and absolutely caked in sand. Whoops.
-Acheiving one of my goals of the night: Getting into a swordfight with another pirate. I told my friends on the way to Sitges that I was going to find another pirate on the beach and have a swordfight, and I did not dissappoint. I'm not even sure how it started, but it was up further on the beach. We were going for about a minute when the other guy..who I later found out was Italian..thought it would be better and more pirate-like AKA badass to sword fight in the ocean. I don't even need to tell you whether or not he was correct. However, I did fail at my other pirate goal, which was to call a girl pirate a wench and see what happened to me. My reasoning was, if they were truly in character then it wouldn't have phased them at all, but if they got pissed and walked away or slapped me or something, then they weren't worth my pirate time.
-Petting a baby goat. This was obviously not a goal or an expectation for the night. I'm actually pretty sure no one in the history of the world has gone out at night with their goal being to pet a baby goat, but that's neither here nor there. Someone told me that this guy was carrying around a baby goat and I had to go see. In case you don't believe, there is photo evidence of me petting it, and photo evidence of the guy whose goat it was looking like a real creeper. Apparently there was also someone with a rooster as well? Crazy.
I finally made it home around 7 am Wednesday morning, and got to sleep until noon or so. I felt great on Wednesday, but hit a bit of a wall today and I'm feeling pretty tired. Next week will be quite a week..in a good way and a bad way. I have to outline a final paper for a class tomorrow, have two midterms and a presentation next week...annnnnd Sean's coming to visit Saturday-Thursday. Woooo! But once I survive that it's time for Dublin and my birthday, so some exciting times are ahead to say the least. I'll be checking back as soon as I can and I'll be sure to give you an update on the Brothers McNelis adventure through Barcelona. Here's hoping at least one of us survives to tell the tale.
Hasta luego! See ya later!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
This is how I kept the ice pack on my head...by tying a big pillow case around my head like a bandanna. Pretty badass, right? I don't know if any gangs wear orange but if so, I'd definitely be running the ish on that block.
One week later...getting better. The Little Eye-ngine that Could, if you will? Haha..awful.
Well, there you have it. This will hopefully be the only post I'll have to make on a negative note. Wish me luck with the rest of my trip, and I've learned my lesson so I'll stay safe. AKA I'm trying to find a way to register my 9MM in Spain. It's harder than you'd think. Ever since Charlton Heston died, the NRA's foreign influence has really been lacking. Oh well, there are other ways.
But like I said before, expect more posts to come, I promise to stay up on it. I want to. Although these aren't all stories I should tell my grandkids, I might want to have them around when the 'ole memory starts going...you know, to remember the glory days. When I was getting accosted by prostitutes and violently robbed..those kinda days. I think that's what Bruce was really singing about.
Ah, to be young.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
This is the other side of my room. There's my desk and my computer with the ghetto looking outlet rigging i have going on. This is where I do all of my blogging and a majority of my communication with people from home, so it's prolly one of the most important places for me in Barcelona. As you can see, I'm repping my FC Barcelona jersey, which is sweet (gracias, Sarah). Still need to get to a game...that will be happening soon fo sho.
This is the view of my bed from the opposite side of the room. You can see my little nightstand and my nice bulletin board with pictures of people from home. The Fam, Ava, Sarah, some Fordham peeps, some of the boys. Oh, and that little shelf is about 1 foot from my face when I'm sleeping. The first 2 nights I slammed my head on it when I woke up, but since then I've only had 1 mishap. Let's hope it doesn't keep happening or else I'm gonna have to make myself some kind of padding. Or sleep with a helmet. (Sleepilepsy? I don't know) We'll have to see.
This is the living room. It's where I eat all my meals with my senora. It's also where I hang out in the evening and struggle to understand Spanish television programming. I'm enjoying the game shows alot, and I might try to watch the Season Finale of "Gran Hermano" (Big Brother) with my Senora this week. Today, she set up a nice lunch for the two of us and we had a few glasses of champagne. The brindis (toast) was to our new President, Barack Obama. Everyone here seems to love him, except for this one guy I met/who ran into me at a bar. It was the night of the inauguration and people were talking about it. He must have overheard and wanted to come diagree with us being excited about Obama. I sort of intercepted him from getting to the huge group of Americans clearly happy about Obama and asked him what was up. He said he thought it was mierda (BS) that he was elected and he was being racist and what not. So I sort of diffused the situation by saying that I agree and I can't believe the majority of my country wants to be ruled by him and blah blah blah. He told if I felt that way I should move here to Spain because something like that would never happen, and that we should sit down and have lunch sometime to talk more about it. He asked for my cell phone number and I gave it to him...after changing a few of the digits, and he said he'd call me in a few days. I've been waiting for his call, but folks, I think I've been stood up. Time to moooove on I guess. Sigh. But anyway, seemed very excited for me and for the US in general. I like him alot (pretty much everything I said to that angry, racist Spanish dude was a lie I just didn't want there to be some kind of altercation) but all I'm gonna say is: Sir, Mr. Obama, you are talking a big game. I hope you deliver. We need it.
These are 3 seperate pictures, for the record. This is all the random artwork hanging up throughout the living room. They don't really go together, but I like it alot. It gives the room a nice feel. And I'm pretty sure alot of them were drawn/painted by my Senora's daughter so she is clearly quite the artista. Before I leave I'll have to make a nice artistic creation to add to the wall...there's a nice spot I have picked out, just need an idea. Or I could put a nice JMcNelis creation in the spot left empty after I steal that sweet Southern Comfort mirror. I'll give you an update in a later post.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
OK so first. I quickly mentioned last post this bar I went to with a friend and we played trivia (and came in 2nd). Well, while we were there, they gave us this student discount card that offers a free meal there every day at 8pm. We were gonna go there to watch the Eagles game anyway so we figure ah wat the heck we'll go at 8 for some free dinner and then wait til 9 and watch the game. There's very few places that showed the game here I'm sure, so it seemed like a win-win-win. That last win was me assuming the Eagles were going to show up and beat the Cardinals. But, as we all know (and if you don't, sorry for the spoiler. But you should really know by now; and you probably heard my sobs) they did not in fact show up. Or win.
Well we arrive at Travel Bar Port only to find out that the free meal is being given out at their other bar which is about a 10-15 min walk away. I figure...I've already taken the Metro 30 minutes and walked another 10 for this free meal..what's 15 more minutes. But boy I wish I wasn't so god damn cheap sometimes. We decide to go assuming they will also be showing the Eagles game. We walk into a the bar which is packed with the kind of 20 year olds you would expect to see waiting for a daily free meal. Speaking of that free meal...only one of us got it. And that one of us was not named Joseph Andrew Christopher McNelis III -
-I'm sorry we just gave away the last plate. But if you want to go back to our other bar, the Travel Bar Port. Do you know of it?
-Umm..yeah. I just came from there about 15 minutes ago.
-Oh, ok good. So you know how to get there.
-Yep...I know how to get there.
-Well they're doing a deal there tonight...because it's the SuperBowl...a hamburger and a beer for 4E. You guys should stop by there.
Well, I fell for his little SuperBowl bit and went back to the Travel Bar Port. So we walk back 10-15 minutes, get our seats, our burgers, our beers and start to watch the game. Phew, I thought. But, calamity struck again ladies and gentlemen. About 7 mins into the game, the middle of the first Eagles drive, the lights start to flicker and im like ooook wats going on now. About a minute later, all of the sudden the tv goes fuzzy and all the lights in the bar go out.
Blackout: "Its ok its ok, folks. Just 2 mins. Blew a fuse I'm sure gotta run down and fix it"
5 mins later: "Ooook guys...just 5 min the electrician is on his way we'll have the game back on soon."
5 mins later, about the time the electrician should be showing up, a guy in an apron walks up to our table and says very non-chalantly: "Hey we're gonna have to have you guys put on your jackets and go outside for a few minutes."
As I'm leaving I look to the back of the bar, and all this smoke starts coming out from God knows where. Next thing I see are 2 dudes running back with fire extinguishers shooting all over. So I guess the Travel Bar Port experienced an electrical fire. Whoops. One upside to the bar you're at clearing out because of an electrical fire? They become kind of involved in not having their bar burn to the ground and they forget to charge you 4E for your burger. So I got that going for me, which is nice.
As you can guess, we began Trek #3 between Travel Bar and Travel Bar Port. Luckily we found a table and within 5 minutes we got our "sorry we almost made you die in a fire and temporarily ruined your NFL Playoff watching experience" free beer. Now that I'm settled, I look up at the TV and I do not see the Eagles winning. Nor do I see them losing. Nor do I see any kind of football. I'll give you one guess as to what was on. 5...4...3...2...1.......................................
Well I regret to inform you that whatever you guessed was wrong...because we were watching Snooker. You see what had happened was, the bar we were at currently (Travel Bar) did not have the cable package to get nfl games, but the cable box at Travel Bar Port did. So, as if I hadn't waited long enough to just sit down and watch the damn Eagles game, we had to wait for someone to unhook the cable at Travel Bar Port and walk it over to Travel Bar and hook it up. That was probably another 20 minutes or so. By this time I was disgusted in general, and was expecting the picture to focus and the score to be in the Eagles' favor. Oh how wrong I was..it was 14-6 Cardinals I think? And they were driving...and they scored. And then they scored again. Christ. I was about a split second away from converting the Travel Bar into the "Joe's Beer Traveling Across the Room at High Velocity...Bar". Unfortunately, I kept me cool and nothing exciting happened.
So I went home after the 1st half to hopefully watch the Eags stage an improbable comeback in the comfort of my own bedroom. But, as was the theme of my day, that did not really pan out for me. And let me tell you...the worst way to watch your team lose the 2nd most important game in pro football by 1 score in the final minutes is by yourself in an empty casa, a long, long, way away from anyone who cares that you just watched your team lose the 2nd most important game in pro football by 1 score in the final minutes.
A few hours and a few more profanities have passed, and I think I'm OK now. Once again the Eagles have tugged on our heart strings, stretched them out as far as they could go, and subsequently tore them to shreds...by only showing up for 1 quarter of a game that requires that you show up for all 4. Even if they had played decently for 2 of the quarters they would have squeaked out a comeback, but it was not to be. I'm not going to comment on the future of Reid or McNabb, because frankly I have no idea. And because I probably give them more credit than alotta people in Philly. It's too early for that anyway. In the end, I have to thank them for the amazing up and down ride that was this season. Hey, we made it to the playoffs when no one else thought we could, and I don't think any other football fans have felt as good as Philadelphia Eagles fans have since Thanksgiving, so I'll toast to that. And seriously folks, after a 25 year drought, did you REALLY think we were gonna do it twice in one year? Come on now. I think we've learned it's better to spread them out, lest we once again become the laughing stock of cities with 4 major sports teams. Oy.
OK, so all in all that wasn't an awful day. But I had to get your attention from the beginning, and if you're still reading now then I have done my job.
I hope everyone is happy and healthy in the US.
Until next time.........GO SIXERS!?!?!
Ha. Good one, jose.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
First the bad news..AKA Spanish encounters..I might be already biasing your opinion before you read but oh well. And plus, if you're from the US you've had a bias for the past (subtract the year you were born from 2009) years that we (America) are the greatest and best country in the world. Not to mention the first civilized nation to organize a governing body and a set of laws and what not. Right?
-So this one may have come as a result of some friends who do not know the Subway/Metro escalator rules, but still unwarranted. The rule I'm referring to is: If you are riding the escalator up from the station, the right side is for lazy/old people who don't take the stairs and the left side is for extra ambitious/sort of lazy/opportunistic people who take advantage of the fact that you can take the escalator AND walk up the steps, getting to your destination faster than everyone else. So my friends thought that the left side of the escalator was for standing still and waiting to get to the top and talking to me. To their benefit, they asked the guy (who will come into play soon) if he wanted to pass by in Spanish and he just shook his head. However, he was clearly pissed and when he got to the top he "accidentally elbowed me in the side of the head" while putting on his jacket. In other words, the little piece of crap Spaniard cheap shotted me. Now what I probably should have done is thrown him back down the escalator. However, the only thing running through my head was the warning from my program during one of the orientation sessions: "Don't be a hero...they probably are carrying a knife," which was in reference to negative encounters with Spanish teens. The warning they failed to leave me with, but which I found out on my own read, "Don't be an idiot. If a 5'6'', 150 pound Spanish kid punches you in the side of the head, he's probably with his 3 friends who are much larger and stronger than you." Which he was. My best defense was the insults I know in Spanish. So, I told him, in no particular order: maricon, menino, jodate, dejame. If you have time, look em up (if you're a relative and more than 20 years my senior, don't). Thanks.
-Next, I go to a cell phone store where a group of people in my program had bought cell phones the day before. Now, their phones cost them 29euro which is a pretty good deal so I wanted the same. I went up to the counter and asked, in Spanish, for the phone my friends bought yesterday that costs 29euro. The lady gave me a weird look and answered, "No we don't have anything like that. The cheapest phone is 69euro." Right away I knew she was lying, and I had a small fear that people might try to rip us off because they know we're American students. So in Spanish I tell her, "Well, no it's not becasue my friends just bought a 30E phone here yesterday." So she looks a little undecided, goes to the back of the store for about 30 seconds, comes back to the counter, reaches directly below her and pulls out a box. What's in the box? I know the suspense is killing you...but yes...it was a cell phone that costs 25E. After that she was quite nice and activated my phone for me and was very pleasant. But, had my amigos not been there the day before, I would have spent an extra 45E or so. Thanks alot, you dumb chica.
-Lastly, I'm walking home from a bar at about 1 Am...it's a pretty well lit street and I'm totally coherent/sober to start it off. So these 2 dudes walk by me and one asks if i have "fuego," fire or a lighter so he can light his cigarette. I say No, I'm sorry, I don't smoke. So either the way I spoke Spanish or more likely the fact that I said I didn't smoke tipped him off that I wasn't from around here (EVERYONE smokes here it's nuts). So one of them asks me a few things about where I'm from and what not and then we got to talking about the FC Barcelona game that night and how they won and we were both happy about it (he was quite excited that I was an American and still a Barca fan). So I'm going to say bye and he goes to shake my hand...but he did this really weird move where used my hand to like propel himself past the right side of my body...and so as he's walking back past me he (completely indiscreetly) goes to stick his hand in my pocket to go for my wallet. I just hit his hand away and told him to get the hell away. He complied, luckily, and we both just walked away. I got played, yo. Here I am thinking this guy wants to have a nice conversation and he's really just priming me to steal my wallet...EXCEPT HE'S THE WORST PICKPOCKET IN THE WORLD. Like, seriously, that was the poorest attempt I've ever witnessed. I mean, I've lived in Philly, NYC, and seen 3 or 4 different renditions of Oliver Twist, so I've seen pickpocketing on all levels...and this guy was just embarassing himself..I prolly should have just given him 5E out of pity.
So I'm realizing how long this post would be if I wrote allll about my good experiences with English speaking people because they're not all that interesting. I did come in 2nd place in this bar's weekly trivia contest with my friend Austin though. 2nd place gets you a free liter of Estrella Damm, the cheap beer in Spain, and makes you think it's a good idea to do Trivia every Wednesday because you might be able to win 125E. I also had a good conversation in English with a cab driver...and for some reason unbeknownst to me...he really likes the Eagles and he hates the Pittsburgh Penguins. I told him he's living in the wrong city and he should come back to Philly with me in April. He's currently considering it...I'll fill you in on the final decision.
Now I know it makes sense that I would have better experiences with Enslih-speaking people and some Spanish people are probably just pissed because I'm just using their city for 4 months and then peacing back to the US, but I thought I'd have gotten a better reception. And I cannot go on without mentioning my Senora and her family who all speak Spanish but are super nice. She feeds me very well and is always trying to make me eat "mas, mas, Jose." More, more. Also, the amount of new food I've tried is crazy. For my family members who read this, I'm going to compile a list of things I've eaten since I've been here and then you are going to read it and fall out of your chair. I'm becoming a very cultured eater...a far cry from my "chicken buckets" days. I'll explain later for all of you who are confused. OK well I think we can both agree this is becoming a bit tedious. I hope all is well in the States and I can't wait to watch the Cardinals get slaughtered tomorrow. I found a place, aptly named "Sports Bar" where I will be watching it.
Everyone take care and Adios. I'll be back pronto.
Friday, January 9, 2009
The One Where I'm a Child Molester...
This one is good, especially since it happened during the first meal I ate with my senora about an hour after I met her for the first time. We were sitting eating almondigas con guisantes y sauza de tomate (meatballs and peas with tomato sauce) and she was asking me about my life, my family, etc. So Sarah came up and I was talking about her a little bit and then my senora asked me "Cuantos anos tiene." Now this was a tricky one because it literally means "how many years have you had or do you have " but it's really a way to ask how old someone is. At this point I was more getting the main idea of what my senora had been saying and not understanding every word so I heard "tiene" (to have) and assumed she meant something to the effect of how long have you had her aka how long have you been dating. So I quickly answered "tres anos," three years., but that was not the right answer at all. So what did I actually tell my senora less than one hour into the 4 months I would be sleeping under her roof, eating her food and having her do my laundry? Yep, you guessed it. I told her I had been dating a 3 year old. And as you can imagine, hilarity ensued as I tried to explain that one.
The One Where Inquire About the Forms of Entertainment Barcelona has to Offer
So as part of my program there are a number of small groups put together and each one has a "Guardian Angel," a Spanish student who is our fearless leader - a guide to the city, the culture, being a student, NIGHTLIFE...you know, all the important things we need to survive. One day we took a pretty long walk around certain sections of Barcelona, and one of our stops was going to be a store to buy cell phones. Now, the Spanish word for cell phone is "movil," like mobile phone, and pronounced (MOH-veel). I wanted to make sure I had enough money to get a phone and some minutes, so I decided to ask my Guardian Angel (Carlotta is her name) in Spanish. So I marched up to her proudly (at this point most of my group had been speaking English to her and I wanted to impress her with my superior spanish knowledge). So I said to her, "Carlotta, cuanto cuesta un movil?" Well, I either didn't say it loud enough for her to hear it perfectly or I didn't say it correctly (yeah, I'd put my money on B too), but she gave me a very odd look. And it was no kind of look you would expect when you ask someone how much a cell phone costs. Soo what had happened was, she thought I asked her, "cuanto cuesta un novio?" Now for those of you who don't know, and for those of you who do as well, novio means boyfriend/girlfriend, but it can also be a nice way to say prostitute. After we all came to the realization that I was in fact talking about a cell phone, I was able to make light of the situation...I quickly smiled and told her, "Pues, no tengo que pagar para eso."
Translation - "Ohhh, I don't have to pay to get that."
The One Where I Get My Wish or The One Where No Still Means No
This one doesn't really have to do with the theme of the post, but it would be a crime not to tell everyone about it (and, as you'll learn, a crime in itself). So I get off the Metro (subway) and have about 10-15 minutes to kill before my amigos were going to arrive. Since I'm new to Barcelona I like to walk around and get familiar with different areas of the city as much as possible and thought this was a perfect opportunity. So I'm walking along this pretty wide pathway with streets lined with bars and restaurants on either side (I believe it was called La Rambla Catalunya) and as I'm walking across the street a 23-26 year old African woman approaches me. She was wearing jeans and a plain tank-top type shirt, rather conservatively for Saturday at midnight. She locks my arm with hers and asks me if I want to go get a drink somewhere.
Thought 1: Man, I do look pretty good tonight I guess Spano-Africans are not shy people.
Thought 2: Woah am I getting jungle fever?
Thought 3: Maybe she's a club promoter trying to get me to come to her bar/disco?
Thought 4: Wow there's three other girls that look pretty similar to her hanging out on that corner in half shirts and............ohhhhhhhh she's a prostitute...sweet.
I stopped in my tracks and tried to tell her "No" every way I could..in English AND Spanish. She told me she really liked me, wanted to show me this really fun place, and a few other things that I would probably write if I didn't send my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents the link to this blog 10 minutes ago. I eventually was able to shake her off by telling her I wouldn't go anywhere with her unless she gave me $1000 Euros. Needless to say, I will never forget our night of passion.
I hope you all enjoyed laughing at my expense. I've only been here for a week so I'm sure 4 months will bring bigger and better things. It's only a matter of time before my lack of spanish knowledge and my trust in people/stupidity at not knowing this lady was a prostitute strikes again.