hola

Well - after 3 flights, 10 airborne hours, 6 grumpy hostesses, one train and countless mullets, we have arrived as planned in the scenic town of Girona (pop 72,000 but feels like more). With the time issues assosciated with flying into the sun, our trip spanned two days, and left us both rather grumpy by the time we´d lugged our heavy (officially, according to the tags) bags through the streets to our pensione. For those who dont know already, a pensione is just a crap hotel - it costs less and smells faintly of domestos.

Our heavy eyes were opened wide, however, when we dragged ourselves out to look at this town. Words are hard to choose when describing the scene, so here is a short collection for you to choose from: amazing, beautiful, incredible, fantastic, pretty, old, quaint, majestic, spanish, warm, medieval, european, classic, etc. Anyway, sufficed to say we are enjoying our explorations through these narrow streets, dodging vespas and peugeots who seem to rule this city.

The one drawback so far is the price of everything edible. In Canada food was cheap, and i think that while it is more expensive here than in oz, the difference is exaggerated by its proximity in our scedule. The other drawback is that people here speak spanish at a rate to be likened to the speed of senor gonzales (speedy, to his friends). To counter this, we are developing a great range of expressions to express our utter confusion, mixed with a small amount of indignance that you should ever talk so fast adn that in a language other than the world language (ie. english). However, by wits alone we are adapting and surviving rather well, and really dont miss any of you one little bit.

We´ll be putting some photos up when we can (just discovered these computers - which put even google into spanish - have a usb connection we can use) but until then here is an aural picture for you.

For starters, everything is backed by the nearly constant noise of little motorbikes zooming around the streets, and of people nattering away in languages other than those you understand )again, ie. english, language of the kings). The streets in the old part of town are all cobbled, some with fancy patterns, others with a nicely random hodge-podge, and none more than two cars wide. This provides for some excitement, especially as Spaniards are not known for their patience or aversion to speed. The buildings lining the streets all soar three or four stories into the air to create an almost indoor environment at ground-level, heightened by the inclusion of a few trees, and the regulation iron-railed balconies putcuate the walls. The walls themselves are made of stone of so many different shades that they all look the same in a strange sort of way, and as it is all over a century old, it all fits - no postmodern eye-sores or bauhause bricks here. No reflective glass sky-scrapers or tacky orange brick. Adding to the feeling of perfection is the overall cleanliness of the place, apart from the obligatory broken beer bottle from last nights fiesta. In short, not a bad place to prop for a while.

Oh, and about the mullets - it seems since everyone like soccar so much they´ve decided that imitation is the highest form of flattery and taken to the sides of their heads with clippers. Everyone. Young, old. Boy, girl, grandmother. It´s uncanny, really.

more to come...