A Few Of My Favorite Things

My favorite things about Spain, followed by a short description of a discoteca. :) Hold on to your panties.

Favorite things:
Fútbol is first, above all things.
Clothes is second, not awesome, but still cool.
Family is important, even if you're not family, you are.
Friends are special, you meet someone one time, and you're constantly greeted with affection.
Food is always fresh, no preservatives, everything is made here and now.
Bread! Bread is life here, and it's a good life to live.
Spanish water, aka Beer, is really good.
Boys, hit or miss, but one of my favorite things.
The smell, I don't know what it is, but I really wish I could bottle up the smell of Spain.
Siestas, nap time, loooove itttt.
History here is really extensive, and all of the buildings here seem to be older than dirt.
Shopping! There are a bunch of people selling Moroccan things because we're right here!
The sky is really blue here, bluer than blue.
School is different, but amazing too.


Discoteca:
Picture This:
Bouncers outside of a seemingly empty patio/restaurant looking place. Groups of two or three heading into empty doors leading to a seemingly empty room, and a stuck up blonde chick asking for our money. Handing her the money and collecting a ticket it seems to be a waste of time until the doors swing open. I can feel the music before I hear it, and am exposed to lighting work that would make an epileptic seize. There's a smell of sweat, hard liquor, body odor and cologne tainted by a smell of cigarettes. There are attractive boys everywhere, dancing very inappropriately with girls who appear to be under age.  I walk up to the bar with my friend and because she's tall, leggy, and black (not the spanish norm) she gets service immediately. She hands me my drink and we start to dance to Destiny's Child. The bass bumps in my ears and through my sternum. I can feel it better than I can hear it. I'm dancing with four friends, the leggy one has been whisked off my a Spanish god. We're having a great time. The stage is roped off, and the hardwood floor below us is slippery with spilled drinks. There's literally no essence of personal space, but rather a public space that screams 'please grab my ass, there's a reason I came here tonight'. Yeah, learned that one quick. Plenty of guys attempt to dance with us, but it doesn't happen. We all do cool twists and turns to get away from them, successfully avoiding those we don't want to dance with. One boy had the audacity to shove his tongue down my throat after I clearly said "basta" or 'enough' but that was barely avoided by M grabbing me and spinning me around . We all walk around looking for attractive guys, stopping at the bar and ordering shots. Ohh. I don't like dark rum, sorry Mom. But by that point, it pretty much tasted like water. We head back down the seemingly steep stairs back to the dance floor. By this point, it's already 5:00 am. We find lady legs and hang out outside talking to Spaniards and finding out where to go next time. Around 6am everyone starts feeling the slump and we all want to go to sleep. So we walk back. Leaving heaven on earth that is discoteca-land and wander home. Yelling at drunk men to leave us alone (in spanish) and avoiding stepping in dog shit.


Viva. España.

<3
Buenas Noches