steven.vu

Hello Children

I’€™ve written this before, it’€™s in Italy on the floor in a dirty dank hostel with a Rasta for a manager:

It’€™s 4 in the morning and I’€™m sitting here, in the middle of Roma, 4 min from Termini. We’€™re sitting on a table for a shut coffee shop. I’€™m with Dave, who’€™s drunk out of his mind. I was drunk 1hr ago, for that reason I twatted him round the head with a pool ball.

The events of tonight start with a pub crawl. Roma is dead in the summer; all the locals have gone to the coast. For this reason no clubs are open, (apart from Gay Village in Pyrimide obviously) a pub crawl is however organised by some guy from Chile as a way to extort money off the tourists.

We start at Spagna the great Spanish steps, there we have 15 Euro extracted from us and all the free beer we can drink. That is, four horses beer mind you. The most disgusting beer one could ever consume. Two beers are lovingly downed before heading off to the first place. Not to sure what the place is called but we have a shot of lemonchella on the house and buy a tequila for 2.50 Euro. Not bad, we can’€™t wait for the Old Bell however, shots being 1Euro when the bell tolls.

On the way we meet some rather attractive American girls, they laugh at how pathetic we are. American bozo starts talking about how he fought a wild boar with his bare hands and received a tattoo from a tribe who had never seen a white man before. They buy the bullshit. Another American by the name of Gregg befriends us, he seems nice enough. Tries to tell us the O.C isn’€™t actually like it is in the series, we don’€™t believe him.

The old bell lives up to its name, tequila is consumed quite readily. We’€™re drunk. Dancing occurs, or what can only be described as dancing. Mike gets to know some German girls, still no French girls about.


Here’€™s where my memory begins to get fuzzy and things get fucked up:

At our penultimate place (5? In total) I’€™m on the prowl with Mike. We’€™re having a laugh. At some point, the largest Italian guy pinches Mike’€™s wallet, he sees the guy, the guy drops it and walks out. Some confrontation occurs, I’€™m screaming ‘€œwhere the fuck is the wallet’€?, he runs. We’€™re legging after him, 4 staff pursue with us. We get two blocks down and the police join the pursuit, get hold of him and nick the guy. For some reason the police station is next door, meaning the guy ran straight past the station.

The mans big fat girlfriend has by now entered the station crying her eyes out, we’€™re swearing the shit out of her. The scene is apparently all to common. Here’€™s the catch 22. The man can only be prosecuted if Mike appears in court in a month, he can’€™t. If the man is let free and we spark the fucker, we have to appear in court in a month, we can’€™t.

The police, being owned apparently by the mafia give us their word he won’€™t do it again. Me and Mike (FUCK YOU) head to the club where everyone has headed to but he’€™s to drunk and pissed off to enjoy it. I have one key to the hostal while Matko has the other, I go inside and tell Matko to get Max Dave and Graham home safely because he has the last remaining key, he agrees.

Mike and I (Yeah yeah) arrive safely at the apartment while Matko and Graham arrive shortly after, Graham falls asleep in the toilet. Mike and I go back to the club to fetch Dave and Max, I’€™m such an altruist, did I mention self effacing too. Got that good ass feeling that you get when you give money to beggars, knowing it’€™ll go to their next fix.

Looking after drunken people is the most frustrating thing, they proceed to have a competition of press-ups and sit ups. Dave is so drunk every time he goes down for a press up he hits his head. I laugh for 5 minutes and tell them to be good quiet drunks in the hostel. This doesn’€™t happen, as I’€™m drunk and pissed off about the Mike incident I grab my newly acquired pool ball and twat Dave round the head. Shuts him up for 5 then he starts up. There’€™s only one last option, I drag Dave out of the room only to find white Rasta dude staring at me. Take a piece of paper, a book(the dog book) and forget my shoes. Half way down the road I regret forgetting the latter. We meet up with some Irish people who say they know a place for food. They don’€™t. We end up sitting her, 1 min from the club and opposite a fountain in the middle of a square, its quite picturesque.

As I write this I think of all the great people I’€™ve met ( Margaret Manveen and Brenda come to mind) but also who I’€™d like to be here with me now. We cross the road and sit on the fountain steps. Drunken tourists are playing the guitar, Hallelujahs playing, with fairly decent vocals. Not the original Leonard Cohen, but Jeff Buckley which sends shivers down my spine. Reminds me of a girl I like and I decide to start to write a love letter. I suddenly realise why I’€™m so scared of her, I can see myself in love with her.

On the way back, after walking in filth and dried up piss we walk past a black hooker, she says in a pseudo coy lecherous voice ‘€œhello children’€?, think that sums up my thoughts for the day

Bingo Bonanza

Our hostal was holding a good game of bingo followed by a quick bar crawl, visiting one of the cheapest bars in Barcelona. Trapetos. The start of the evening was pretty timid. Nobody turned up to the bingo, of the 47 in the hostal only a dozen played. Matko won twice, gaining a Saint Jordi Tshirt and 11 euros.

By this time Matko Graham and Max were pretty pissed, drinking 18 beers and home made sangria between them. Home made sangria being 1L of 1 euro red wine mixed with 1L of lemon fanta. Theres only one thing worse than a whisky alky, a red wine alky.

We departed from the hostal at midnight or so and took a taxi to a bar where if you flip a coin and guess right, your drink is free. I lost. Our next port of call was a crowded bar but Matkos drunken antics meant we had to leave pretty soon. Apparently swearing at the pussy spaniards which were bigger than him wasn’t a good idea.

Margeret then had the useful idea of taking us to a salsa club. Us being boys and drunk, garenteed some suspect dancing. Matko and Graham were wearing shorts and their said won tshirts had trouble getting in but were eventually let in.

Somehow Matko hurts his leg, so badly that he can’t walk. Graham drags him back to the hostal and we all meet up to pack up. It now being 3 in the morning and our bus leaving at 5. The scene looks pretty grim. Matko can’t walk, Graham’s lost his Barcelona bus card and i’m pretty drunk. Drinking tequila with a Mexican probably isn’t the best way to stay sober.

I try to write this post, am to drunk. Decide to read Margerets instead, pretty funny reading mundane events. She

Budget Sunrise

In reply to Matko´s account :

The pictures of Matko shall be up shortly

I wasn´t after Mike´s girl, don´t think Mike was after her to, her being quite an old german girl.

I didn´t want to be seen next to matko

So thats sorted, i shall not for the purpose of this account add anything more to aggrivate the situation. I believe the further away from an all out bitching session the better.

So here´s what happaned yesterday. The evening started out how Matko had planned it, i was indeed looking forward to playing a few games of pool. Wasn´t drinking as there wasn´t much point and i guess my liver deserves a break.

After the pool we got to talking. Now i´m with my best mates but constant drivel which you can´t get away from really does do my head in. Matko threw some low verbal blows, so did i. It was eventually going to happen and i´m glad it was pretty sedate and civil.

Matko at this point went to the hostal back by himself and we stayed at the pool hall. Talked for another half hour and then went to the hostal for a hefty bitching session. A Mexican girl which we met on the first night chatted to us, inebriated. Her friend looked even worse. She´d heard absynth was illegal in America so just had to try it.

We got a smart idea about watching the sunrise from the beach so the 5 of us headed down. When we got there it was pitch black but surprisingly warm. Had a dip in the freezing cold sea for quite a while, saw some lightning strike the sea. We ran.


I´m glad we went down, it eased the tension which had been building for quite a while and i really did want to see the beaches. It´s also one of those things i´d like to say i´ve done, watch the sunrise from the beach and have an impromtu midnight dip.

Bar Crawl Version 2

As steve so kindly gave me the option to offer my alternative view on the events of the evening, i accepted this chance to conceal some of the flaws uncovered by steve.

We were all up for having a meal, and this was in no way instigated by me. I must admit that paella and sangria did sound more attractive than a drunken pub crawl that was bound to be full of sweat and testosterone. I accepted the scousers offer and set myself up for a big loud night on the town.

Steves account of the drinking was pretty accurate, and there was severe lack of women there, which bothered steve grealty as his chances of getting lucky were reduced more than he had hoped. I was quite glad there were fewer women than men, means it wasnt difficult to resist the temptation of grabbing some bottoms and eyeing girls up. Instead I spent the evening making noise and singing with a few other english blokes.

We met a couple of prime penises on the way. A bloke from Finland who looked 15 and was wearing an england hat pretending to be a vandal, which in his mind made him british. We also got 2 Spanish fags stealing 2 euros from graham. As soon as we revealed some british agression they fled. We then later saw them dancing with each other in the club, and taking in mind they were over 40, we felt very sorry for the sad cocks and let them be.

After 2 years of my friendship with steven being marred by his constant desire to go “clubbing”, we finally got there. It wasnt your average club, it was upmarket Barcelona club, so even someone like myself who isnt a huge clubbing fan thought it would be a laugh.

Contrary to many peoples expectations, Graham, Max and myself had a pretty amazing time, generally making fools out of ourselves on the podium and dancing like girls. I was trying hard to dance as normally as possible, but it didnt really work I was told! Steve on the other hand, who was so enthusiastic about cool cool clubbing, never stepped on the podium, and rarely moved more than a couple of inches. He seemed to be trying to grab a girl that mike had already bagged. You must humour poor stevie, he tries so hard to impress, we musnt put him down.

After the pub crawl had ended we took a 40 minute stroll up Rambla to our hostel, it seemed like 10 minutes, but we felt it in our calves the next morning I tell you.

Tonight we shall be having a quiet night, and not wholly on my recommendation. Were going to try and spend as little as possible in the snooker bar, not easy when a glass of beer is 5 euros!

Bar Crawl

1st full night in Barcelona, after sorting out Graham’s wallet we hit the town. Matko’s idea of a good night is 2L of Sangria and a 3 course meal with his girlfriend followed by an early night of passion. With his girlfriend absent we were dragged to fill the void. I’m always up for a nice meal but not an early night, this is supposed to be a lads holiday.

Thankfully a scouser named John recruited us on a bar crawl before Matko’s plan could be put into action. Now i wouldn’t trust a scouser as far as i could throw him but anything seemed better than a nice evening meal with Matko.

The flyer promised 5 locations in 7 hours. It delivered. The night started off quite slow with a shot of something green, half a pint and then progressed to a heavy metal bar. This didn’t live up to its literal name, although was fun. Met a scottish bloke who seemed like a laugh and bought us a beer for the pleasure of our company.


Next we met up with some Londoners and a guy from Oxford, sung swing low and Jerusulum before being told to shut up. We were now at an Irish bar, surprising amount of these in Barcelona. Scottish bloke got with an Irish girl. Me and Mike chatted up some Northerners, i as usual, was drunk and being rather rude to them. Pointing out why Southerners hate the north, she did ask after all.

The clubs were pretty timid, full of old men and girls with big boyfriends. The girls which were our age were swarmed by said old men who got a tad protective over their new found prized possesions. Young girls, being young girls obviously lapped up the attention and the fun factor of being fought over.

Tonight Matko plans to drag us back to a restuarant and have an early night. We’ll see.

Barca

Arrived in Girona at 10, was hell getting to Barcelona. Took about 1hr but we arrived safely and promptly found our hostel. I´m writing this from a couple of computers provided. The hostels pretty amicable, couldn´t have asked for more i guess.

Things got pretty tense between me and Matko however, he wanting to have an early night while me Max and Graham opted to explore the city. Our first port of call was an Irish Bar playing constant U2 followed by a snooker hall. I think Matko was expecting this hostel to be as regimented as him, all in all Spaniards are quite relaxed people, opting to sleep during the sweltering heat and eating until late at night. Bars and clubs close at 7, or when the owner gets sleepy. In comparison i´d say they move their evening 5 hours ahead of ours, while we´re ending a night at 11:30 for the last train they´re starting the night. Good lifestyle.

Went down to Las Ramblas today, Graham lost his wallet. Matko being the responsible guy that he is, is sorting it out. The pay phone doesn´t work, screams all round. I´m sure it´ll get sorted out though.