Spring Splog

To celebrate the first day of Spring, the youth of Granada go down to a designated area of the city for a massive botellón(consumption of alcohol in public including but not limited to: debauchery, degenerency and indescent acts of belligerency). The Spanish use any excuse to come together for a "special event" to drink copious amounts of alcohol and leave their trash where they please while simultaneously using their tax money to pay for the city cleaners to clean up after them. Having nothing else to do on such a fine day, my friends and I flocked to the botellón and "immersed" ourselves in true Spanish culture.

We got there at around 4 and it was sunny and warm.

And then this dog came and hung out, we fed it ice.

Next thing we knew it was dark and we were stuck in the middle of the crowd protecting the skate park from certain destruction.

Aaron x 2.

Some more Californians decided to show up.

The rest of the night was a blur and I found myself in a state of recovery for the 2 days following the event.

I thought about moving to Paris next year and foregoing my "educational experience" at UCSC, but as it usually does, logic crushed my dreams and I decided it would be more reasonable to finish up at Santa Cruz and then move to Paris after I'm done there. In order to have something to look forward to, I decided I'm gonna move to Barcelona for a couple months this summer and work on my social networking skills. Comments/suggestions/opinions/reactions????

Me in Barcelona??

Last night, I went to Jen's apartment for Mojitos and company followed by a number of bars, alleys, and clubs.

Dos españoles y un guiri.

Una española y un guiri.

We stopped at this alley and hung out for a while.

Then the time decided to change/ it got later while getting early/ I slept for a while/ I wrote an essay/ made some plans/ wondered if anyone is actually gonna read this blog.

Blogogna

Spring finally decided to show itself, and not a second too late for my trip #2 to Bologna.

To take full advantage of the sunlight, we dragged our(my) snow white bodies to the sunny hills of Bologna to drink fine wine and play with a dog named soup on this Italian hippy girl's ranch.

To get there we had to take a half hour bus ride on a windy 1.5 lane road with a crazy Italian driver. We managed to survive the trip and I took a photo as evidence.

Then we got picked up in the hippy girl's vintage jeep and drove up to her ranch. James' forced smile is not without reason seeing as some unkown part of the jeep was ramming him up the anus.

The other person you see pictured in the photos in James' English friend Steven, who happenned to be visiting him on the same weekend I chose to. We had a jolly good time criticizing each other's English. What is an aubergine anyways?(answer at botton)

James is the same as I left him, except he is now taking a marble sculpting class and is so international he could be the star of L'auberge Espagnol 3. Here is a portrait of James in Bologna.

James and Zuppa/Soup.
Check out those hot legs

and me

again

Good italian beer??

Timer... great results every time.

Then we went to this park full of annyoing hippies and euro trash scumbags.

We were of the few who did not fall into one of the two preceding categories.

and this guy.

Then I came home to even warmer weather in Granada and the urge to continue my life on the flipside in Paris next year. To be continued...
(aubergine=eggplant)