Sevilla/ Seville

 It may sound as an overstatement to say that never before had the beauty of a city made such an impression on me as Seville’s did. Perhaps the biochemistry of my organism that day was such that brought up the perfect mood in me and allowed for me to experience my arrival into Seville as beauty and comfort as I could not remember. Maybe the contrast between hours of driving through hundreds of miles and entering civilization enhanced the beauty of the city. At any rate, after having visited Seville I know I can make mine Antonio Gala’s words when he said that “It’s annoying enough that Sevillians think that they have the most beautiful city in the world… but what is even worse is that they might probably be right.”

The trip from Málaga was very pleasant. We drove through endless fields of olive trees on a sunny day as we listened to music and indulged ourselves at the sight of miles of greyish green hills and valleys. Spring, which has taken so long to arrive here home, was already very advanced in the Andalusian landscape, and temperature was perfect. The generous breeze was fresh on our skin as we stopped to eat and refill at the petrol station. By the way, it was in Andalusia where petrol stations offered the poorest variety of things to eat, which made it difficult to have a healthy diet on the road; pubs and restaurants abounded along the way though, but we had quite a fixed budget and going there was out of question.

As we tried to get to the hotel we had some problems with Marta, our GPS support, but after driving down the same narrow streets and passages a few times, we managed to get there. The hotel was nothing much, but it was quite central and there was WIFI connection, so I was able to finish a pending editing and proofreading project in time to meet the deadline. As Lindy went for a walk, I worked as fast as I could in order to meet her up on time for dinner. We had a lovely meal at El Aguador and then we walked around the town centre. What a beautiful city Seville is at night! La Giralda made a greater impression on me than I had expected, such is its beauty.

The next morning we regained our strengths to face the day with a beautiful breakfast based on bread, olive oil, tomato and Spanish ham. One can say that the city is simply ALIVE. Not just because of the many tourists and students, but also because of the atmosphere along the river as you walk by it or cross its bridges; but also because it is open to the sky, bright, full of stunning architecture, horses, and orange blossom whose scent invades it all. We felt so good that we started making plans to visit the city back and to even live for a while in it. Yes, we got carried away by the good vibes of the moment, but, who knows?

We bought a fantastic CD by Paco Seco from himself. The guitarist was playing at a passage in the Jewish quarter, and his music was as beautiful as the place we were standing at. The music on his CD served the purpose of soundtrack for many hours of our trip on our way to Norway. Enjoy it. Oh, and you may want to consider Seville as a place to visit before you die.

Tal vez sea una exageración decir que nunca antes me había impactado la belleza de una ciudad tanto como la de Sevilla. Puede que aquel día en concreto se dieran las condiciones necesarias en la bioquímica de mi organismo para evocar en mí un estado de ánimo tal que hiciera que entrar en Sevilla fuese una experiencia de belleza y bienestar como no podía recordar. Puede que el contraste entre conducir a través de cientos de kilómetros de carretera y llegar de nuevo a la civilización tras horas al volante exaltase la belleza de la ciudad. El caso es que, tras visitar Sevilla, puedo hacer mías las palabras de Antonio Gala cuando dijo: “Lo malo no es que los sevillanos piensen que tienen la ciudad más bonita del mundo…lo peor es que puede que tengan hasta razón”.

El viaje desde Málaga fue muy agradable. Atravesamos interminables campos de olivos en un día soleado escuchando música y disfrutando del verde grisáceo de las interminables colinas y valles. La primavera, que tanto se ha demorado en casa, ya estaba avanzada en los paisajes andaluces, y la temperatura era perfecta. Una brisa generosa acariciaba fresca nuestra piel cuando nos detuvimos a comer y repostar en la gasolinera. Por cierto, las gasolineras de Andalucía fueron las que menos variedad para comer ofrecían, lo cual hacía algo difícil el llevar una dieta decente en la carretera; había numerosos restaurantes y mesones a lo largo del trayecto, pero teníamos que ajustar nuestro presupuesto lo máximo posible y no eran una opción.

Tuvimos problemillas con Marta, nuestra voz GPS, para encontrar el hotel, pero tras conducir varias veces por los mismos estrechos callejones y pasajes, llegamos a nuestro destino. El hotel no era gran cosa, pero estaba muy céntrico y tenía conexión a internet, lo cual me vino muy bien para terminar dentro del plazo un proyecto de edición y corrección que tenía pendiente. Mientras Lindy paseaba sola, yo trabajaba tan rápido como podía para poder reunirme con ella. Cenamos en El Aguador y después paseamos por el centro, ¡qué bonita es la ciudad por la noche! La Giralda me impresionó más de lo que había esperado: belleza cautivadora la suya.

Por la mañana tomamos un delicioso desayuno a base de pan, aceite de oliva, tomate y jamón serrano que nos puso las pilas para el resto del día. La ciudad está sencillamente VIVA. No sólo por la marea de turistas o los estudiantes, sino también por el ambiente que se disfruta junto al río, al cruzar sus puentes o al pasear por sus márgenes; y porque es una ciudad abierta al cielo, luminosa, con arquitectura preciosa, caballos, y flor de azahar que llena de perfume las calles. Nos sentimos tan bien que empezamos a hacer planes para volver a visitar y hasta puede que vivir una temporada en la ciudad. Sí, está claro que nos dejamos llevar por el buen rollito del momento, pero ¿quién sabe?

Nos hicimos con un CD de Paco Seco que adquirimos de su propia mano. El guitarrista estaba tocando en un callejón de la judería una música tan hermosa como el lugar por el que pasábamos. Su música sirvió de banda sonora durante muchas horas a lo largo del resto del viaje. Disfruten de su música. Y visiten Sevilla antes de morir.

Vendedor en Málaga/ A salesman in Málaga

Cádiz-Málaga

Desembarqué en el puerto de Cádiz y comencé a conducir. Era un día de sol, perfecto para tirar millas. No tuve tiempo de conocer la ciudad, puesto que debía conducir hasta Málaga a tiempo para registrarme en el hotel, dejar las cosas, y finalmente ir al aeropuerto a recoger a Lindy. Así que de Cádiz no puedo contar gran cosa, tan solo que me pareció una ciudad luminosa y que me recordaba bastante, no sé muy bien por qué, a Las Palmas de Gran Canaria.

Ya en la autopista, y con la música a todo volumen, pude disfrutar del paisaje andaluz. He de decir que el trayecto desde Cádiz hasta Málaga, pasando por Jerez de la Frontera, me sorprendió por su belleza. Colinas preciosas, verdes manchadas con el amarillo de las flores, el marrón de los caballos, y el negro de los toros. Un auténtico placer conducir por ahí. Lamentablemente esto cambió una vez alcancé la costa de Málaga, pues le pasa como a la costa de Gran Canaria: la especulación del ladrillo y el turismo la han afeado enormemente. Fue triste ver cómo se sucedía edificación horrenda tras edificación horrenda, además de vallas publicitarias espantosas que lo invadían todo. Estas vallas sólo las vi en España a lo largo de todo el viaje, y no dejo de preguntarme ‘¿Cómo puede ser que nadie rectifique los errores del pasado?’

I disembarked at Cádiz’s port and started driving. It was a radiant day, perfect for a long ride. I didn’t have the time to get to know the city, since I had to get to Málaga in time to register at the hotel, leave all my stuff and then drive again to pick Lindy up at the airport. So I cannot tell much about Cádiz, only that I thought it was a very light city and that, for some reason, it reminded me quite a bit to Las Palmas de Gran Canaria

Once on the road, I played loud music and started enjoying the Andalusian landscape. It is just fair to say that the views from Cádiz to Málaga, going past Jerez de la Frontera, surprised me for their great beauty. Stunning hills, green all over with spots of yellow from the flowers, brown from the horses and black from the bulls. Driving those roads was just a delight. Unfortunately, this changed once I reached Málaga’s coast. Just like in Gran Canaria, wild speculation within the building business and the excesses of the tourist industry have spoiled the landscape tremendously. It was a sad thing to see how those horrendous edifications dominated the landscape, along with ridiculously ugly hoardings everywhere. It’s only in Spain where I could see such hideous hoardings during my whole trip, so I cannot but ask myself ‘How is it possible that nobody in this country is willing to rectify and make up for the mistakes committed by others in the past?’

Cuando entré en Málaga, busqué el hotel. El coche venía cargado de cosas por la mudanza y no me parecía prudente aparcarlo en la calle, así que lo dejé en un aparcamiento cercano. El Hostel Álamos 14 era sencillo y barato, pero estaba todo muy limpio y nos atendieron bien. Tras recoger a Lindy en el aeropuerto, paseamos un poco por el centro de la ciudad ¡Me encantó Málaga! Es una ciudad bonita y acogedora, y me quedé con ganas de volver. Por la mañana, desayunamos en una cafetería cercana llamada Noviembre. El desayuno fue genial y a un precio muy bueno, el local era muy agradable y la gente muy amable. Recomendadísimo. Tras el desayuno, paseamos un rato y entré en Super8, una pequeña tienda de camisetas con diseños relacionados con el mundo del cine donde compré alguna fricada que otra. Pronto tuvimos que dejar la ciudad, así que recuperamos el coche, lo metí en un lavacoches para quitarle la salitre que tenía tras dos días en el ferri, y pusimos rumbo a Sevilla.

After entering Málaga, I looked for the hotel. My car was fully loaded with stuff from the moving and I didn’t think it wise to leave it out on the streets, so I used a nearby car parking. Hostel Álamos 14 was modest and cheap, but it was all clean and they treated us very well. If I am ever back in the city, I will stay there again. After picking Lindy up at the airport, we decided to walk the streets of the old town. We loved Málaga! It felt like a nice cosy city, so I would like to visit it back in the future, perhaps with more time to get to know the place which saw Picasso be born. Morning came and we had breakfast at a cafeteria called Noviembre which was a few metres from the hotel. The food was so good! And very inexpensive too! Great atmosphere and kind people too. I recommend it. Afterwards, we had some time to go for a walk and do some shopping. We entered a tiny shop called Super8, where they sale t-shirts with cool designs related to films and the cinema industry. A freak such as myself couldn’t just walk away without buying something there. We had to leave soon, so we went back to our car, which needed to be washed off the salt from the two-day trip on a boat, and we left for Seville.

Me encanta conducir ¡Cuánto he disfrutado en Gran Canaria de mi pequeño SEAT! Me encantaba ir desde Maspalomas hasta Arguineguín por la carretera vieja escuchando música y disfrutando del horizonte, el mar y el cielo abiertos ante mí. O recorrer las calles de Las Palmas de madrugada, cuando apenas hay tráfico y los semáforos se convierten en un corazón que palpita y marca el ritmo de las calles. O subir por la carretera del centro y dejar atrás Tafira, El Monte, Santa Brígida, La Atalaya, El Gamonal… Pero para mí, como para tantos isleños, cruzar provincias, comunidades autónomas y países en mi propio coche nunca había sido posible, así que la travesía hasta Málaga fue especial por ser la primera vez. ‘Algún día lo haré en moto’, me dio por pensar, recuperando de la memoria mis planes de hace varios años. No sé si podré llevarlo a cabo, pero siento que este viaje ha colmado mis anhelos y me siento satisfecho. De momento.

I love driving. How much I have enjoyed myself in my little SEAT! I used to love it when I drove from Maspalomas to Arguineguín on the old road along the coast, listening to loud music and indulging myself in the light of the open horizon, the sea and the sky. Or going for a drive in Las Palmas’ streets at night, when there’s barely any cars and the traffic lights become the heart of the city as they beat to the rhythm of the streets. Or towards the mountains in the centre of the island, leaving behind Tafira, El Monte, Santa Brígida, La Atalaya, El Gamonal… But for me, as for many other islanders, to drive across the borders of provinces, counties and countries had never been possible, so this first trip from Cádiz to Málaga will ever linger in my memory as a very special one, the first one I ever took outside the island. ‘One day I’ll do the same on a motorbike,’ I thought as I brought back the memory of some old plans. I don’t know if I will ever manage to make it happen, but I do know that the trip I just took has filled my longings and I feel satisfied. For the time being, at last.

El periplo/ The journey

622 € pagaron un total de 369 litros de combustible y en torno a otros 200 € pagaron los costes de   peaje que sirvieron para recorrer 5.016 kilómetros de carretera y atravesar 8 países. El periplo incluyó, además, dos viajes en ferri: el primero cruzó 1.370 kilómetros de mar desde Las Palmas de Gran Canaria hasta Cádiz; el segundo, 98 kilómetros desde Fredrikshavn (Dinamarca) hasta Goteburgo (Suecia).

€ 622 were used to pay a total of 369 litres of petrol, along with other € 200 in toll payments, all of which served the purpose of driving on 5,016 km of roads to cross 8 countries. The journey included two boat trips, first 1,370km from Las Palmas de Gran Canaria to Cádiz, then 98 km from Fredrikshavn (Denmark) to Göteborg (Sweden).

El plan se hizo con la intención de alcanzar dos objetivos principales: 1) traer mi coche a Noruega, lo cual sigue siendo rentable tras los gastos del viaje y el pago de impuestos, etc., puesto que el coste de un coche nuevo como el mío en este país puede llegar a ser el triple que en España, y el de uno de segunda mano de unos 10 años de antigüedad y unos 150.000 km recorridos, igual al coste de mi coche nuevo en España; 2) de paso, realizar un viaje juntos, Lindy y yo, para celebrar nuestro primer aniversario juntos. Ambos objetivos se han cumplido: el coche está ahora en Noruega, y el viaje resultó en dos semanas maravillosas que jamás olvidaremos.

Our initial plan served a twofold goal: 1) to bring my car to Norway (which was still a profitable thing to do in spite of the travelling expenses and the taxes bearing in mind that the price of a new car in this country may be up to three times the amount paid in Spain, and also that buying a second hand car that’s been used for over 10 years and 150,000 km might cost in Norway the same amount of money that I paid for my brand new car in Spain two years ago); 2) for Lindy and me to enjoy a trip together in order to celebrate our first year together. Both goals have been achieved: the car is now in Norway and the trip resulted in an incredible adventure, two wonderful weeks that we will never forget.

Nos planteamos el viaje de manera que la primera semana sería más bien de placer, mientras que la segunda la dedicaríamos más a tirar millas para llegar a casa. A ambos nos apetecía centrarnos en conocer España mejor, así que fue el país donde pasamos más tiempo. Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Cádiz, Málaga, Sevilla, Granada, Valencia, Barcelona y Bilbao, fueron las ciudades españolas recorridas. Saintes y París en Francia; Charleroi y Liège en Bélgica; Maastricht en Países Bajos; Bremen en Alemania; Aarhus y Fredrikshavn en Dinamarca; Goteburgo en Suecia; finalmente, Setskog, Noruega, donde nuestra bonita casita blanca nos esperaba junto a nuestro lago, que yo había dejado como una piedra gigantesca de hielo para encontrármelo descongelado y con patitos nadando a mi regreso.

When we were planning the trip we thought that we would like to spend the first week on a more holiday mood, whereas the second one would be more about driving to get home. We both felt like focusing more on getting to know Spain better, so it was this country where we spent most of the trip. Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Cádiz, Málaga, Seville, Granada, Valencia, Barcelona and Bilbao were the Spanish cities we visited. Saintes and Paris in France; Charleroi and Liège in Belgium; Maastricht in The Netherlands; Bremen in Germany; Aarhus and Fredrikshavn in Denmark; Göteborg in Sweden; finally, Setskog, Norway, where our beautiful little white house awaited our arrival by our lake, which I had left as an immense piece of ice but found melted and with ducks swimming around by the time I got back.

Place of petrol refill/Lugar de repostaje	Litres/ Litros	Price/ Precio	Km on the road/Km. recorridos
Málaga (Spain)	30	45€	398
Granada (Spain)	33	51€	791
Castellón (Spain)	35	58€	1338
Lérida (Spain)	31	48€	1750
Bilbao (Spain)	42	62€	2319
Saintes (France)	27	46€	2751
Paris (France)	40	70€	3185
Maastricht (The Netherlands)	36	71€	3672
Bremen (Germany)	39	68€	4158
Aarhus (Denmark)	38	71€ (531DK)	4680
Töckfors (Sweden)	18	32€ (287SEK)	4968

Self-reflection and the meaning of silence or Two boring days on a boat

I read somewhere that self-reflection is not such a common thing as one might think. Apparently, there are many who live their lives enjoying their success, crying their failures, and feeling whatever it is that they feel as they go, but without actually stopping to think back of the reasons or the consequences. Such is not my case at all, and since I am definitely amongst those who indulge themselves as they stir on thoughts on what they did or said and how they did it or said it, I should think myself lucky for the recent opportunity that I had to spend two -boring- days on a boat on my own.

Those 48 hours proved to be plenty of time for me to reflect on the decisions I have made recently. As I looked out into the immensity of the Atlantic Ocean and the Albayzin cut the waves in between Gran Canaria and Cádiz, thoughts of what I was leaving behind assaulted my mind, together with images of a possible future. But I do not want to go back to melancholy as in my former post, and, as a matter of fact, I am kind of surprised at how easy it is to not to. No hesitation, no doubts whatsoever blurred the happiness I felt on my way to what I understood was me seizing my future. ‘Silence is meaningful’, they say, and so I wonder what the silence of my normally melancholic and self-reflective mind means. I guess I will find out sooner or later, anyway.

But, let me tell you a bit about the boat trip. It was boring and tedious, there was no internet connection (in the year 2012!), and the food was just good enough for it to be eatable. There is something about being on a cruise that sets you in a I-will-never-get-out-of-here-alive mode, and, somehow, you feel like a secondary character of a Mad Max type of film. People onboard become somewhat grotesque yet interesting. Here’s a list that I note down with my impressions of some of the people on the boat:

• Four Spanish hippies, one of which is a girl with long rasta hair. They are young –early 20s- and they seem to me to be very kind people. Also, they look like they could use a shower.
• A German rasta girl, blonde, tall, walking with her bare big feet and looking mysterious. I’m sure she is high on something.
• A group of Moroccan men who get together to pray a few times a day. One of them may be the Iman, since it is him leading the ritual. He walks in sandals and wears an orange ‘chilaba’.
• A group of Latin-American men who get together to share stories around a bottle of whiskey as they listen to some salsa music. A canario joins them to tell his own story (something to do with the Guardia Civil). After a while, they’ve had two bottles and I get this feeling of being a character in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
• A Spanish man with mainland accent sits alone as he reads a José Saramago’s book. He is tall and thin, and his face seems to hide a sad story.
• A German man sits alone on the upper deck. He has gathered a lot of his stuff on a corner, where he sits. He is angry and talks to himself, occasionally shouting –perhaps swearing- out loud. We are all scared of him.
• The security guy is from Cádiz. He is around during breakfast, lunch and dinner hours. After that, he wears his own clothes and sits down to eat his meal. I think he cannot be bothered to work any longer.
• An elderly woman leads a family of four, herself and three adult men. Their clothes and long beards and hair make me think that they are Jews, but they have to be Christians: they cross thenselves and thank the lord before every meal.
• Two couples that sound undoubtedly Galician when they speak. They look so happy!
• A man sleeps in his car and sits there the whole day. He has a dog. They also look like they could use a shower.
• A young couple expecting a baby. He doesn’t look at her, she is neglected.
• A man with a beard, short hair and glasses sits alone and types down on his laptop. He carries a grey ragsack and listens to In Flames.

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The future ahead

I have lived in Norway since last summer. The first 8 months I was based in Oslo, but in February I moved to a small town one hour away from the city. The truth is that I did not get to like it much in Oslo, whereas now, in a house in the forest by the lake, I am immensely happy. Maybe one day I will dedicate a post to all the reasons why I think Oslo is not for me, but for now, I will just say that Oslo was not half as exciting a city as I had expected. Yet the experience there served me right to learn something with which many Norwegians will probably agree: Norway is not about its cities, it is all about its nature. Nature in Norway is stunning indeed, and the place I live in now is without a doubt one of the most beautiful places I have seen.

Mind you, I have always been an urban creature. I love cities and their noisy crowded streets. But I am from Spain, a country where everything happens in cities. It’s not that there isn’t beautiful nature in Spain, but my generation grew up in a country which had forsaken its historical rural essence and had moved to the coast and the cities. Spain is all about its cities.

I grew up in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, the 9^th biggest city in Spain. With around 400.000 inhabitants, it is a middle sized city that, just like many other European ones, looks and feels like a mixture of modern and old. Most of my best years happened there and a lot of memories come to me whenever I walk its streets. Melancholic as I am, I felt like dedicating this post to the moment in which I became aware that I was leaving Las Palmas de Gran Canaria for good.

When I drove my white SEAT Ibiza on board the Albayzín to cross the Atlantic towards Cádiz, where I was going to begin my road trip to Norway, I realized many things. I would not have to suffer Las Palmas’ horrible traffic anymore, or drive around forever to find a parking place, or walk down Tomás Morales street in the middle of a suffocating heat wave on a day of calima and panza de burro; but also, I would not get together with my friends at Monopol for a coffee or a beer or sit down in San Telmo to see people get by and talk about life, and I would not check out the last releases at Moebius, my favourite comic book store; and I would not swim in Las Canteras beach before eating some tapas on el paseo. Memories: walking every morning to school at Colegio Iberia; sliding down with old 5 liter bottles of water at Plaza de la Feria; buying ice-cream in Triana street; visiting my grandmother in San Nicolás; feeding pigeons at Plaza de Santa Ana in the cathedral’s shade; my university years at ULPGC; sharing flat at El Obelisco area… As the boat left the coast of Gran Canaria behind, I could not help but shiver at my own decision of leaving for good and becoming a foreigner. Yet there was no fear or insecurity: I felt great peace at the knowledge that beyond 48 hours of sea, I was meeting my future, where many more memories awaited.

Último día de mi vida en Inglaterra…

¡Hola!
Hoy es el último día que paso en este país. No es fácil marcharse, la verdad. Después de tanto tiempo, estoy adaptado al sistema, a la gente, a los horarios, a los servicios, a los trenes, a los paisajes, a la arquitectura, a las comidas… a todo. Así que cuesta un poco dejarlo todo cuando ya se empezaba uno a sentir como en casa, y empezar de nuevo no es fácil. ¡Joder, cada año es un principio para mí! ¿Cuándo me podré arraigar y estabilizar en un sitio? Es duro tener que empezar de nuevo una y otra vez, y parece que eso es lo que llevo haciendo desde hace una década. En fin.

Llevamos una semanita en Cambridge Manolo y yo, y también es el final de la aventura inglesa para él. Hemos hecho muchas cosas y lo hemos pasado bien. Creo que hemos aprovechado bien el tiempo, incluidas las horas de hacer el ganso tirados en la casa, jejeje. Esta noche va a ser larguíiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisima. Saldremos de la casa a eso de las 22.00, para coger la guagua hasta Londres a las 23.00. Llegaremos a las 2.00, y en Londres tendremos que esperar hasta las 3.30 para coger la guagua que va al aeropuerto. Nuestro vuelo sale a las siete y pico de la mañana, y se supone que llegaremos a Gran Canaria al medio día más o menos. ¡Vaya tute!

Bueno, en el fondo estoy deseando estar ya ahí, en mi islita, y empezar con todos mis proyectos nuevos. Hay que mirar hacia delante. No sé quién lee esto (ya que nadie me deja comentarios últimamente), pero seguro que tengo gana de veros seáis quien seáis, jejeeje.

 Hasta pronto.

Barcelona…

¡Hola!
He pasado una semana genial en esta ciudad. Hay muchísimo arte por todos lados… y mucha vida. Creo que me gustó la variedad que hay: sus museos, sus calles, su arquitectura, la música, los actores en la calle, la playa…. Han sido cinco días de mucha creatividad, y no es para menos, ya que el viaje fue organizado por el departamento de Arte del colegio. No eran unas vacaciones para los 14 alumnos que fueron, o sea, no era un viaje de fin de curso, sino que iban a currar. Tenían que tomar nota de lo sitios a los que íbamos y que eran relevantes para la asignatura, y, sobre todo, tenían que dibujar mucho (al pastel, lápices de colores, carboncillo y rotuladores). Han rellenado páginas y páginas de dibujos y bocetos que han hecho de flores, edificios, esculturas, pinturas de Picasso, Miró y otros artistas, etc. Yo, por mi parte, también aproveché la oleada de inspiración y dibujé bastantes páginas también. Sitios a los que fuimos: Museo de Textiles, Museo Picasso, Museo Nacional de Arte de Cataluña, el Pavellón Mies, la Fundación Miró (con exposición de San Sullivan incluida), el Mercado Central, el Museo de Cerámica, el Parque Güell, la Sagrada Familia, las Ramblas y la Plaza Real (donde estaba nuestro hotel). Fue genial, y los chiquillos aprendieron un montón de cosas. Echen un vistazo al nuevo album
Barcelona.

Hoy tenemos fiesta en casa de Mick, que se retira este año (de hecho, dentro de una semana!) y lo va a celebrar por todo lo alto. Yo he contribuido al menú con mi famosa y apreciada ensaladilla rusa, jejeeje. Se supone que la fiesta va a durar el sábado y el domingo…

Ciao!