I dreamt of 250 pound black women undulating like only those from the tropics can. I pictured lots of people clad in colorful and ornate costumes. Lots of grinding and explicit dancing. Performances. Parades. All in all, a spectacle to be seen.

Expectations can be a bitch some times, leaving you in a situation with nowhere to go but down. Often, it is impossible for a trip or an event to meet your expectations. From now on, I am going to limit my expectations of a possible destination or event because it only serves to cloud your view. I had a great time at Carnival, but it was completely (well, maybe not completely) different from what I expected.

Carnival in Cadiz contained very few of these full body costumes, even less undulating (though I´m pretty sure Ben tried), but fortunately for us, we were able to work quite well with the hand we were dealt.

Two specific moments in Cadiz were the most memorable and both involve the same friend (name withheld for confidentiality reasons). In my capacity as translator to these visiting monkeys, I was constantly being asked "How do you say...?" As you can imagine, some of these phrases were not always something I could tell them or would want them to say. You would be amazed by how often two men in their mid-twenties were giggling like schoolgirls because they heard or said a "dirty" word in another language...or because ordering a small beer (caña) sounds suspiciously like a word for the female sex organ in Spanish (to them at least).

At one point, said friend X, was interested in telling a Spanish (though he claims she was Russian) woman that "he spoke with his eyes". Needless to say, something was lost in the transfer (literally and figuratively) because it came out "I speak with my blues". While I eavesdropping I was doubled over in laughter. I think I had a seisure in the middle of the club, but, thankfully I didn´t bite my tongue. I hate when that happens.

The second moment involves the same friend. He disappeared at the end of one night. He had been talking to one Spanish woman for a long time. With the combination of broken English from her and about 15 words of Spanish for him they were really defying the odds from the conversation gods. The woman, coincidentally, initiated conversation with us (3 foreigners) in an Irish Pub around 3.30am. Immediately, this reminded me of New Year´s Eve 2004 and I began to suspect she was working. In fact, we all did.

As it turns out, they left together...Friend X, Monica, her cousin Javier and his girlfriend. Everyone went back to Cousin Javier´s (as he will now be referred to) house. Myself and Friend Y made our way back to the hostal around 6.30am and were wondering if Mr. X had absolutely any idea how to get back to our hostal. The last thing I remember us talking about before passing out was if he was lying facedown on the beach with one missing kidney or not. Actually, I´m lying. That is the second to last thing I remember. The last thing I remember was laughing ridiculously hard at the second to last thing I remember.

As it turns out he did know how to get back and damn good thing too. Around the same time we were making inappropriate jokes about his kidneys or lack thereof, he was sitting around Cousin Javier´s house. At some point he was asked/told (maybe ordered at knifepoint) to leave Cousin Javier´s house. This, on account of him being "too loud" (and thus, once again, proving the theory of the loud American). Cousin Javier and Monica then proceeded to start arguing. Arguement concluded with Friend X, Monica and Cousin Javier getting in the car around 7am. Cousin Javier drove to the town limits, stopped and told him to get out. Another argument. It ends. Monica and Friend X on the side of the road with nothing to see but a startling lack of taxis and Cousin Javier´s tail-lights disappearing into the distance. At this point Monica politely tells Friend X, "Javier speak bad of you. I choose you."

Choose a person you met in a bar that is visiting for Carnival Weekend instead of your cousin which leads to you being dropped on the side of the road in the early morning hours and left for dead.

And I thought I made questionable decisions...

As for the Carnival itself, it seemed more like a reason to hang out in cafes, bar and discos...as if the Spanish need anymore reason for that. As far as I can tell, that´s what happens every week in every Spanish city I have ever been too...just a few more tourists this time.

Besides the excuse for a party, it was like a Carnival...but not THE CARNIVAL. There were rides, vendors, some costumes, a small parade and kids running around with silly string. The main attraction in Cadiz during this celebration was political satire songs. Groups or bands play in the streets and I guess you could loosely compare it to something like Saturday Night Live skits. There was lots of yelling, singing and I think I even saw Jimmy Fallon looking into a non-existent camera and laugh (like the idiotic moron he is), but, not understanding all the lyrics and knowing the political targets kind of takes something away from the performance.

"Las Fallas" is up this weekend. Mediterrean Coast, fireworks and parade floats on fire. Stay tuned for more info.