i´m in granada killing time waiting for my laundry to dry. tonight i´ll be taking an overnight train to barcelona to meet up with the fabulous kam and claudia. i was meant to be there a few days ago but granada (coupled with a complete lack of organisation) forces you into laziness. not that i´m complaining- the spanish lifestyle suits me to perfection. the nights begin well after 10 with tapas, sangria and cheap beer, with clubs only getting started well after midnight.

i´m really enjoying the freedom of travelling solo. case in point- my first night in madrid was spent drinking, smoking too much hash and duly passing out on a makeshift matress shared with a colombian musician named alejo, his artist cousin and a good friend of pete doherty from the libertines. add an arab to the equation and you have my mother´s nightmare. at least mum might appreciate the fact i´m one step closer to partying with kate moss. then again, maybe not. needless to say, pete´s friend is a junkie. he´s also a freak who can speak 7 languages including fluent hebrew despite never having visited israel. everyone i´ve met so far (with the exception of americans) can speak at least three languages so i´ve been
officially relegated to the position of ignorant westerner. next time i visit spain i will have a decent command of spanish.

i´ve met some real characters already. my favourite has been a french canadian who used to perform in a circus in montreal. his talents include unicycling and french-kissing. another was self-professed ´world-fusion´ musician stephen who insisted on testing out the acoustics of different rooms in the palaces of alhambra by beatboxing loudly and simulating didgerido sounds.

the highlight of the trip so far has been witnessing fag hags dancing crazy to the black eyed peas ¨my humps¨ in madrid´s answer to the market. another highlight was strange alcohol-induced flirtation involving candle wax with a californian girl (who used to be a high school cheerleader of course) but the accent deterred me from going for second base in her cadillac. god i´m funny.

some other observations (cos i am too lazy to attempt any more semi-coherent writing):
-hand sex transcends those pesky language barriers.
-so does rejection.
-madrid girls are fucking hot- think extreme fringes, attitudes, boots, orange clothing and let´s not even start on those lisps.
-it has taken all my self-restraint (clearly in short supply) not to go crazy with shopping here. so far i´ve only bought myself an over-priced jacket, comic-book pattern tights, classy shorts and a hot pair of zip-up boots that look like the lovechildren of a boxing shoe and a ninja boot.