Not all of Barcelona was late-night partying and amazing taxi rides. For two straight days, it was pouring rain leading Marissa and me to find amusement in the comfort of my friend's house. While I was looking forward to high temperatures and sunshine, Barcelona was in quite a drought by the time we arrived. The rain was welcome by the residents, so we had to accept it and just try to be positive. Anyway, we had TV in the apartment, so we decided to see what Spanish TV was all about.
We didn't get very far with the Spanish, but there were some interesting English movie networks called 'Canal +' (Spanish for 'Channel'), and in the top left corner of the screen it was abbreviated to 'C+.' This is only noteworthy because the quality of the movies playing on these channels (C+ Comedy, C+ Action, etc.), if they were to be given a grade, it would roughly be a C+. Here's some examples of the movies we watched over our two rainy, hungover days:
Hollow Man II; Bram Stoker's Dracula; Jeepers Creepers; Predator; Bad Girls; Poseidon; Big Trouble in Little China...
This list is incomplete and I plan to finish at a later date.
There was one movie that was not bad even though it had Will Smith, the King of C-plusity in it called The Pursuit of Happyness. That one was pretty good. We could have spent our time watching 'good' movies, as Greg had many on his shelf, but we all decided that all movies should be chosen for us by the good people at Canal +.
So now, when discussing a movie with Marissa, I can talk her into watching it by mentioning the phrase 'C+,' and she sees this (as I do) as a good thing.
29 May 2008
27 May 2008
That Time I Told a Cop My Name Was 'Travis Giovanni'
So, there's this strange law in Barcelona that lets you purchase a can of beer in the middle of the street from a guy that may or may not have a liquor license at any time of day, but you can't drink it in public.
Maybe it's for on-the-go people coming home from work who don't have the time to run into the convenience store. This might also cater to those impulsive buyers who create the demand for nail-clippers in the checkout area of grocery stores. While those demographics may represent a number of those purchasing beer from a street-corner, it's obvious that this marketing technique is for drunks and/or tourists. Being a tourist who happened to be drunk at the time, I bought four roadside beers.
Obviously, the next action we took was to open the cans, cheers and drink. About half-way through the third step, a police officer approached us and spoke to Greg in Spanish. Greg replied and gestured 'one more sip' with his index finger, but the cop did not oblige. Greg slowly moved the can to his lips and in one movement the cop snatched the can from Greg's hand and threw it into the garbage nearby, spilling the beer in the process. Marissa, who had yet to take a sip, followed this string of events by throwing her fresh cerveza into the trash as well. I, on the other hand, watched all of this as it happened and calmly took another sip. Seeing this, the cop approached me and like Greg, I asked him for one more sip, and again the cop did not oblige. He removed my beer from my hand in a similar fashion as he had done so for the previous belligerent American, then he reached for his notebook.
He spoke again to Greg, who was obviously our ringleader, and wanted to know all kinds of information like his name and where he was from. Greg, who began the conversation with the cop speaking near-perfect Spanish, now reverted to 'touristy' Spanish in an attempt for the cop to go easy on us. Greg told him his name was 'Jeffrey' something, and that he was staying in some non-existent hostel on the other side of the city. The policeman wrote this information down and turned to me. He asked me, in English, what my name was. At the same time, Greg and I responded to his question. I said 'Travis,' and Greg said 'Giovanni.' I repeated, 'Travis Giovanni,' as if saying the two names in succession would make it legitimate. We were then asked for identification. Unfortunately, we could not locate any ID on our persons, and he let us off with a warning.
It's a good thing he didn't notice the extra can of beer in Greg's pocket, because after that confrontation, we all needed a beer.
Maybe it's for on-the-go people coming home from work who don't have the time to run into the convenience store. This might also cater to those impulsive buyers who create the demand for nail-clippers in the checkout area of grocery stores. While those demographics may represent a number of those purchasing beer from a street-corner, it's obvious that this marketing technique is for drunks and/or tourists. Being a tourist who happened to be drunk at the time, I bought four roadside beers.
Obviously, the next action we took was to open the cans, cheers and drink. About half-way through the third step, a police officer approached us and spoke to Greg in Spanish. Greg replied and gestured 'one more sip' with his index finger, but the cop did not oblige. Greg slowly moved the can to his lips and in one movement the cop snatched the can from Greg's hand and threw it into the garbage nearby, spilling the beer in the process. Marissa, who had yet to take a sip, followed this string of events by throwing her fresh cerveza into the trash as well. I, on the other hand, watched all of this as it happened and calmly took another sip. Seeing this, the cop approached me and like Greg, I asked him for one more sip, and again the cop did not oblige. He removed my beer from my hand in a similar fashion as he had done so for the previous belligerent American, then he reached for his notebook.
He spoke again to Greg, who was obviously our ringleader, and wanted to know all kinds of information like his name and where he was from. Greg, who began the conversation with the cop speaking near-perfect Spanish, now reverted to 'touristy' Spanish in an attempt for the cop to go easy on us. Greg told him his name was 'Jeffrey' something, and that he was staying in some non-existent hostel on the other side of the city. The policeman wrote this information down and turned to me. He asked me, in English, what my name was. At the same time, Greg and I responded to his question. I said 'Travis,' and Greg said 'Giovanni.' I repeated, 'Travis Giovanni,' as if saying the two names in succession would make it legitimate. We were then asked for identification. Unfortunately, we could not locate any ID on our persons, and he let us off with a warning.
It's a good thing he didn't notice the extra can of beer in Greg's pocket, because after that confrontation, we all needed a beer.
20 May 2008
Xavier: The Magic Taxi Driver
There is just too much to write about my last night in Europe to include it all in one blog, so here's a little something about the greatest cab driver known to man, Xavier.
It was a dark and dreary night and Marissa, Greg and I had just finished our meal and were ready to paint Barcelona red. After a quick stop for some espresso at Greg's place, we hailed what would later come to be known as the best cab ride ever.
Greg took the jump seat and Marissa and I crawled into the back. Xavier must have picked up on the perfect vibes and promptly switched the radio from Spanish programming to USA For Africa's 1985 smash hit, "We Are the World." Already I began to realize that this would be a memorable ride.
During the song I thought I noticed a few occurrences outside my window, but simply brushed them aside. For one, the city seemed to be whizzing by at an alarming rate, and the speedometer confirmed my suspicions that we were going fast - about 100 km/hr. I looked through the windshield and saw a red light try and stop us to no avail, and then another. I know taxis are known for driving quickly and erratically, but this was a little more than I expected.
While Xavier was driving fast and disobeying traffic laws, I thought that must just be what Barcelona drivers do. (Later when I was discussing our ride with Greg did I realize that this was not common and that Xavier could have faced large fines and even jail time for driving in such a way.) This is when the ride got interesting.
During this real-life 'Crazy Taxi' experience, Xavier turns back to Marissa and me and asks if we are in the mood for some 'Taxi Magic.' As if we weren't impressed with his ability to weave through traffic while maintaining a speed of 100 km/hr, Xavier felt that we needed to be given the special treatment. Before we could respond, he made a 5 Euro bill disappear and reappear a number of times, then moved on to his next trick where he made it look like one of his fingers was a laser pointer. I know these sound a little lame, but trust me - when you're seeing them done from a foot away and can't figure out how he did it with the greatest of ease while driving like a maniac through a city...only one thing is certain: this was a magic taxi.
Before I could wrap my mind around what was going on, Xavier stopped the cab and we were at our destination. He handed Greg a card and we asked for another. On it was his number and a rabbit popping out of a hat. He said to us, "I speak English too," and was on his way. Cab drivers in NYC don't even speak English.
I'm considering calling him from Utica. If he shows up, I will become his apprentice.
It was a dark and dreary night and Marissa, Greg and I had just finished our meal and were ready to paint Barcelona red. After a quick stop for some espresso at Greg's place, we hailed what would later come to be known as the best cab ride ever.
Greg took the jump seat and Marissa and I crawled into the back. Xavier must have picked up on the perfect vibes and promptly switched the radio from Spanish programming to USA For Africa's 1985 smash hit, "We Are the World." Already I began to realize that this would be a memorable ride.
During the song I thought I noticed a few occurrences outside my window, but simply brushed them aside. For one, the city seemed to be whizzing by at an alarming rate, and the speedometer confirmed my suspicions that we were going fast - about 100 km/hr. I looked through the windshield and saw a red light try and stop us to no avail, and then another. I know taxis are known for driving quickly and erratically, but this was a little more than I expected.
While Xavier was driving fast and disobeying traffic laws, I thought that must just be what Barcelona drivers do. (Later when I was discussing our ride with Greg did I realize that this was not common and that Xavier could have faced large fines and even jail time for driving in such a way.) This is when the ride got interesting.
During this real-life 'Crazy Taxi' experience, Xavier turns back to Marissa and me and asks if we are in the mood for some 'Taxi Magic.' As if we weren't impressed with his ability to weave through traffic while maintaining a speed of 100 km/hr, Xavier felt that we needed to be given the special treatment. Before we could respond, he made a 5 Euro bill disappear and reappear a number of times, then moved on to his next trick where he made it look like one of his fingers was a laser pointer. I know these sound a little lame, but trust me - when you're seeing them done from a foot away and can't figure out how he did it with the greatest of ease while driving like a maniac through a city...only one thing is certain: this was a magic taxi.
Before I could wrap my mind around what was going on, Xavier stopped the cab and we were at our destination. He handed Greg a card and we asked for another. On it was his number and a rabbit popping out of a hat. He said to us, "I speak English too," and was on his way. Cab drivers in NYC don't even speak English.
I'm considering calling him from Utica. If he shows up, I will become his apprentice.
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