Barcelona

I was happy to be leaving London today to hopefully recover from this sickness with some warmth. A few days in Barcelona should cure my ills. I arrived around 6:00pm and Alex was there at the airport. So good to see him and we headed up to the city for some xurros and hot xocolate. On the ride in I even got to teach Alex about MontJuic. Even though he lives in the city he didn’t know where the name came from. Mountain of Jews! There’s a Jewish cemetery there. Cool, I know something! It’s way handy to cruise around the city with someone who lives there. Where to park, which streets to turn on, where the killer hot xocolate is, etc. After we grabbed some xurros and xocolate in the Barrio Gotic [VIDEO LINK] area we headed up Las Ramblas to Placa De Catalunya. Some guy was fast asleep on a car while the city went on around him. It’s always fun to revisit a city you’ve been to before because you’re much more comfortable. No more figuring out the subway system, deciphering the accents, or learning restaurant eccentricities. Alex did a little shopping at a store he likes and then we headed off to his house in Mira-sol. We stopped at a little roadside setup where some guys were selling these little roasted nut kinda things. Alex picked up a newspaper full of them a brought them to the house. Maria showed up a few minutes behind us and had bought some of them too! Can’t quite remember what they were called, but they tasted a bit like potatos. Alex? Help me out with the name? It was good to hang out and chat about things like no time had passed. We even watched “Crocodile Dundee In Los Angeles” late into the night. We laughed at all the silly L.A. moments in it. Probably more than we should have for such a horrid film.












Said my goodbyes to Ireland this morning and onto London. I’m really starting to hate London more each time I go. Between Heathrow airport and the flu and virus toxic zone known as the Underground, I can think of many other places I’d rather be. I am here for concerts though, so that’s good. After taking the Piccadilly line into Piccadilly Circus, easy, I tried checking into the hotel. The line for doing this wound through the lobby and out the front door. All around the lobby were notes posted apologizing for the recent evacuation because of the fire alarm. Great. After about 45 minutes I got my key to my crappy room. The bathrooms and showers are down the hall and you have to call them when you want to take a shower. All this for the wonderful price of $100 a night. I was pretty beat so I thought I’d try to take a little nap. About 20 minutes into laying down and just about to fade off, the mother f’in #%#&$ #&*% fire alarm goes off! See for yourself. [








That’s me, Joe Jetsetter. How could I resist a Shag post to say I’m outta here. “Haunted Mansion” [







The last Cinespia [
Had to get up at 6:00am this morning to catch my flight back to L.A. I’ll never fly in and out of San Jose ever again. San Francisco airport, although much bigger, is able to handle its capacity. The fashion police have yet to arrive in the Valley to strip everyone of their Bill Gates look. The button down shirts, khaki pants and tennis shoes or Dockers are still the style of choice. It looks as dated as a “Members Only” jacket now. Finally got on the plane and grabbed a window seat so I could sleep a little. A guy who was on his phone out in the terminal thought he wasn’t going to get on the flight. He got on and grabbed the middle seat in my row. He proceded to invade my space for the next hour as he constantly wanted to look out the window. Next time buddy, get to airport earlier so you too can have a window seat. I tried to discourage him by leaning really far forward while looking out the window and blocking most of the view. This only seemed to encourage him as I could feel him lean against me to struggle to get a view. I turned and looked at him and damned if he was five inches from my face. Get the hell off of me! How rude. The backup non-confrontational plan of leaning away from him and sleeping worked much better. As we were flying over Ventura he looked at me and said, “Very sick crowds”. I stared blankly for a second. Did he just say “very sick crowds”? He could tell I had no idea what he was talking about. So he repeated slower this time like it was going to help. “V e r y s i c k c r o w d s”. I looked at him and repeated very slowly, “very sick crowds” with a puzzled looked. He pointed out the window and said again “very sick crowds”. Oooooohhhhhh.. “Very THICK CLOUDS!” Yeah, no shit, you’ve been crawling over me to look at them the whole trip. The ever so subtle language of Engrish. [












