Arriving in Girona after a week with the hospitable Gray family in Cadaques, I couldn´t believe that I managed to find a room for about thirteen euros per night. That´s just nine pounds. I met the proprietress of the establishment on a street as I looked at another pension, and she was all smiles and pigeon English as she led me to a dark alley. My allbeit windowless void of a room seems too cheap to be true, and my naturally suspicious mind thoroughly expects some kind of swindle is involved. So I am carrying around anything remotely valuable just in case, which leaves me drunk and in charge of diverse equipment such as digital cameras and dive watches. A useful combination given that there seems to be some kind of young exuberant waitress convention mobbing the streets. On closer inspection, the 40 black clad chicas seem to be part of an outsized hen night which involves blowing kazoos and whistles while wearing yellow hats and creating a brouhaha.
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