Soccer!!!

El dia en que España entera vibraba con los goles de Raul y Co. yo me dedicaba la percusion latina. Acabo de decidir que si alguna vez escribo un libro lo comenzare asi. Este año no tengo ningun interes especial en ver los mundiales. Me aburre el futbol barato que se paga tan caro, me aburren los comentaristas deportivos cuyas emisiones estan llenas de topicos, me aburren las estrellas del deporte rey que por rascar bola llenan sus bolsillos de billetes de los lilas. Eso si, me gusta la aficion. Me encanta ver a la gente vibrar noventa o mas minutos frente a la pantalla del televisor. Y como no, amo las celebraciones posteriores. ¿Y cual es el mejor sitio en estos momentos para vivir tales celebraciones exceptuando Alemania?... Dublin coño, Dublin. Que gana Brasil, cientos de brasileños se lanzan a la calle a bailar samba. Que gana Polonia (algo imposible), alla van la legion de polacos intentando derribar el spire. Que gana España, pues todos los españolitos bailando sevillanas y cantando el "que viva España". Y no os digo nada del dia en que gane Togo, con tres o cuatro togenses haciendo las cosas que se hacen por alli para celebrar una victoria. Resumiendo, aqui hay gente de tantos paises del mundo que para un hombre como yo, que se esta acostumbrado demasiado a la juerga y a la jarana, es el lugar perfecto para "disfrutar" de esta copa del mundo. Y si, con una extremada dosis de buena suerte, mi pais llega a la final y la gana esa misma noche llegare a Malaga para quemarla, tal como lo hicimos aquel dia en que la cancion de moda fue: "Pedja Mijatovic la la la la, Pedja Mijatovic la la la la la la". Y todo esto mis queridos amig@s sin haber visto un solo partido. A mi plin.

I don't have any photo for this post. So I'm going to attach the pic of a "nice" present that Lulu brought me when she went to Berlin, the city she loves (and hopefully I will too).

Y como curiosidad pinchad aqui para ver otra version del Opa, quiero... esta vez dando caña a los nuestros.

Eleven days to remember.

Two weeks ago, on Thursday, a plane from Mallorca landed on Dublin. On this plane was coming a good friend of mine, Corrales (AKA Luis Miguel). Eleven days later I fell on my bed completely exhausted. Working and going out eight of those eleven days is such a hard task at my age. So boys and girls, if you plan to do this follow my advice, an italian expresso before going out always helps :).

I should said that I already enjoyed the visit of Corrales and "Black eyed" Miguel (a friend from Algeciras that came later). Taking apart the fact that it is a bit messy four people sharing a room (having in account that some of them snore "a bit" jajajaja) it is always good to have my friends hanging around here. We shared quite a lot of good moments and anecdotes and also hundreds of paints together. Probably best of those moments was the Barbecue of Matteo, which last for sixteen hours (4 p.m. to 8.am) and as every party of Matteo was full of people. Spannish highlights: Corrales playing the hymn of La Linea on his flute (the sweet one of course) while other guys where playing darbuka, djambe and guitar; me dancing "sevillanas" at seven o'clock in the morning just a few minutes after an ska session (Cannabis of SKA-P); or when we put "Opa, voiace un corra" on the loudspeakers. A "10" in my personal party-o-meter :).


I put some of the pics that I got on my Pictures album. They are just a few because before 12 everybody was drunk already so nobody wanted to get pictures at this time.
Enjoy them as much as I enjoyed those moments!

Note: Julien big piece of french shit, bring the video that Maria took, I need to attach on here :). Thanks my friend.