I must say, it is rather Spainly out here

Good tortillas with bad wine, broken gipsy-ladies being played by melancholic bearded sombreros, guitars weeping in every corner, scruffy anar...chists living in immaculate caves, dogs smoking badly rolled cigarettes, half-arsed graffitti and heavy-hearted this-and-that, ¡Ay!, upside-down broomsticks with folded arms watching world events from a balcony, muslim skeletons wailing between walls, policehatingmotherlovers, hairy communist infants, Franco's shiny black boots still mistaken for Santa Claus', fanatical esperantistas marching through streets roaring "¡guerra a la ce!" and "¡muerte a la hache!", princes with tambourines, puppets with working tearducts, clouds with psychosis, fairies with syphilis.