Apples to Apples

Explaining that game, Apples to Apples, to someone Swedish (or, I am assuming, to anyone not of an English speaking origin/from America) is not easy. Something is lost in translation when you try to explain using cards to describe words, like "touchy-feely" being defined by Helen Keller or Michael Jackson or your grandma.

Typically, I love apples. I love the game Apples to Apples, I love apple pie, I love how they smell and most of all I love apples with cheese. Manzana is one of my favorite Spanish words. It sounds kind of seductive and like it should have some sexy meaning... manzannnaaaaaahhhhh. Rawr.

Naming streets in Spain is about as creative as naming buildings was in Sweden (Big Square, Big Palace) and apperantly in Jerez, they ran out of ideas and someone with an apple fixation named multiple streets Manzana. I wish I could tell you that Jerez was a really awesome city full of life and splendor, but unless you are my mom and have a love for the Equestrian School of Riding, stay far, far away. The city consists of lots of streets named Manzana, lots of fast driving cars, lots of churches that are always closed and are located in ghettos, and bodegas (sherry plantations, or however you translate a vineyard of sherry.) On Sunday we got on a bus to Jerez, hoping to arrive in the evening and walk around a precious little pueblo full of horse lovers and little old men drinking sherry while strolling down the limited number of streets. The Jerez we were picturing would never have a need to repeat street names, let alone get desperate enough to name one Manzana.

I'm not telling you Jerez was the arm pit of Spain, but if Steamboat is Seville than Jerez is Oak Creek.

We did have a few lovely experiences with food, mostly involving Spaniards' belief that fried eggs and french fries are the best combo for any meal except breakfast, which you can bet is going to be a cup of cafe con leche and a cigarette. Yummo.

Monday morning we got up "early" at nine and showered (one redeeming quality of Jerez was that you can get a one star hotel for 40 euro and have a hot shower) and made our merry way to the horse school. We were using a map in Eyewitness Travel's book on Seville, and let me just say that if I personally meet anyone who works for Eyewitness, I will strangle them. As the guide at the horse school said, after seeing our map and asking us if we needed help, "Your map is very incorrect." Awesome. If you are just giving us a map for the sake of acting like you know what you are talking about or to fill your book with "Things other guidebooks only tell you about," just leave it out. Because even with Mom's very discrete compass using there was no way any person could possibly find their way around Jerez using that map. Don't question me, because after four hours of walking around with it, I know for a fact it is impossible. The map from the hotel wasn't much better; after I realized that it was pointing to locations that were actually two blocks away we were at least able to end up in the general area. There is just something special about a map that is incorrect... and about the things that I would like to do to the people who created them. Since using a few ineffective guidebooks, I have decided that if I am ever president, I will pass a law saying that anyone to publish a guidebook must have an expenses paid trip for ten individuals (three must be over 50 and first time travelers) and if eight of them can accomplish the trip without major setbacks you may publish. Otherwise, start over. I am wondering what the President is doing that is more important than this?

In the meantime, all I can tell you is to locate a tourist information center asap if you end up in Jerez. I would love to tell you how to get there or where it is, but I can't because there is no map and unless you have mad ninja skills you won't find it. So, in more correct advice words: If you go to Jerez, please stumble upon a tourist information office as soon as possible during your lost wanderings.