I don't like sand. It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere. Not like here. Here everything is soft and smooth.

What a fine quote that Danny recited to me when we were walking on the sandy beach. I like the beach in Barcelona, and because of that. I look like a strawberry.

The first day we got here, we had both fallen ill. We slept for 13 hours and used the hostel bed sheets to sweat the poison out. We´re fine now, though. Thank you for asking. I love the beach, and the one here goes on for a long stretch of land. One of my favorite aspects of the Barcelona beach is the plethora of asian massage therapists willing to give out massages for 5€.

Today we visited La Sagrada Familia, the work in progress church that Gaudi planned. The structure was so ornate, and had the word Sacrum all over it. While were sitting and looking up at it, a tour bus stopped in front, and tens of thousands of old women heaved out hankerin´for a cig. I am glad we opted out of using tour buses to guide our adventures.

After we scaled the church, we walked 600 meters up an incredibly steep hill toward Gaudi´s Guel Park. The park had a great view of the city, which I will post a picture of at some juncture. The park was apparently built for the upper class to come and hang out, which was the center of some of our walking jokes, which one of, I will write on this blog.

We noticed a moat sort of thing following the side of the path, and decided it was filled with wine so when the upper class folks became thirsty and in need of some of that 1974 Merlot, they wouldn´t need to travel far. Dip and Swig.

Who is this Gaudi guy? and why did he know how to map out some of the craziest places? The church won´t be completed for another 75 years. I think I would be far too impatient to even think about working on a building that ornate.

So, traveling back from our sight-seeing day, we decided (Danny decided) to buy a pizza cone for lunch. This inexpensive, little treat is an ice-cream shaped bread cone filled with cheeze, mushrooms, and pizza sauce. Danny still claims the cone is a cullinary masterpiece!

So, then we proceeded to nap. Well, after hearing mating noises all night long, how could we not be tired? And this transition, my friends, is how I tell a true horror story. I thought of leaving it out, to spare the graphic details, but tales like these need to be told.

First, Kabul is the WORST hostel in the entire globe. This is truly how I feel. I am sitting in it right now, and I feel like throwing up. Danny and I go to bed fairly early (11 maybe 12) because we like to do things during the day when we travel. Doesn´t everyone? No. The past two nights lame British girls, and people making fun of America have been having absinthe parties in our room, while we´re attempting to sleep. Now, I don´t want to sound like I´m complaining. I like a good time, and I enjoy meeting people, but where do we draw the line? We don´t! Last night, a man from Atlanta and one of the lovley Brits, proceeded to ¨mate¨in the bed next to us... FOR THREE HOURS. What? Twice. I´m not kidding. We were the only people in the room, and they chose our corner to do their love dance. I was not pleased, and am even thinking of going to some hostel that is known for its peace oasis. If the sex wasn´t enough, the guy spilled wine all over the place, it was really nasty on an entirely different level. Ew Ew Ew.

So, please, do not stay in Kabul under any circumstances. I don´t care what anyone says, it is awful. TERRIBLE. The free dinner even sucks, and IT IS FREE. I´m sorry for the use of caps, but my god people! Those Brits and Canadians are worse than even some of the lamest Americans I know.

But it´s Barcelona man! We gotta live it up! Gotta drink that absinthe and be promiscusous!!!!!

I think Danny and I are destined to be asian tourists, polite and soft spoken.