L’Observateur, er ... El Observatoro

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Spanish TV overutilizes “Man on the Street” reportage. In less than two hours of unfocussed viewing, various paisanos were queried on such disparate topics as Chinese medicine, exercise bikes, sex, Ruud van Nistelrooy’s hand gestures, and what shoppers are buying during the post-Navidad rebajas, which are totally en efecto. To paraphrase Ben Gazzarra’s character in The Spanish Prisoner: “What are we buying?! Tell me what we’re buying!”

Cádiz reminds one of other sketchy Spain-brained port towns such as New Orleans, Havana, and Miami. One can casually circumnavigate the entire city on foot in under 90 minutes. Here, “OC” stands for Onda Cádiz.

So far, Spain comes off as a less friendly, more expensive version of Mexico. Funny how the conquested tend to be nicer than the conquistadors. On a side note, Hernán Cortéz really lucked out when he was made God of a place that looks incredibly similar to the one he came from.

In general, tapas are glorified cafeteria food. Let’s call a spade a spade: When potato salad is available on every corner, you’re in trouble.

Noticia: El corazón de Sarkozy late con fuerza por Carla Bruni.

Andalucían exhaust gives one a sore throat.

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