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The English in Spain

Planned to finish packing tonight but instead drank the best part of a bottle of Berberana wine and watched a VCD of Charlies Angels I bought from some Triads on the streets of Hong Kong last year. Yesterday I went for a badly needed haircut; I simply said "Corto", but he misunderstood and assumed I was off to join the National Front, hence I now have no hair at all.

I did manage to find a new favourite cafe today, called Cafe Ars (seriously), which has lovely coffee, a good sound system (Bose - you can hear the difference), and a strange maze of passageways that seem to travel underneath all of Mahon before finally getting to the toilets. So I sat there today, and wondered what happens to British people when they go on holiday. Earlier I'd been passed by an English 70 year-old walking around town in only a bra and shorts, the kind of behaviour that would have her taken straight back to the old persons home if she was in Britain, but obviously fine to do if you're in Spain. A cruise ship was in, and the port was full of very fat people who were too big to manage to walk up the stairs into town, and had given up, deciding instead to sit on the stairs and eat ice cream.

On Saturday, I'm flying to Hamburg, en route to Denmark, so of course I now discover that this weekend is the biggest fiesta of the year in Mahon, with 4 days of partying and celebration for the Fiesta de Gracias, or Festival of Joy and Pleasure, the unmissable event of the year. Typical. Vorsprung durch technik.

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