If you ever have a week to kill in Spain and you're a native English speaker, do I have the job for you: Pueblo Ingles.
Pueblo Ingles is a program where 20 native English speakers (called Anglos) and 20 Spaniards (called, um, Spaniards) get together for 1 week of sweet, unadulterated English speakin'.
Spaniards, as a whole, speak much less English than the Norway folk. So in order to improve their skills they are mercilessly isolated together with people who don't speak Spanish so they're forced to rely on English. Or as I like to call it, the greatest language in the world whybotherlearninganythingelse?
The best part for me was all the (admittedly shitty) red wine you could drink. For free. Starting at 2 p.m. Whoever said wine was the "classy" beverage choice ain't never seen me pour 2.5 bottles down my throat - over lunch.
Nay, the best part was meeting new people - I did this entirely on my own - drinking and "having a laugh". I picked up a lot of British terminology there. I love those Brits! But I will save my love letter to them for another day.
And, God love my frugal ways, the entire week was free. Crappy wine (red only) and all. I just had to get myself from Point A (currently Norway) to Madrid and house myself there for 2 nights. I highly recommend you look into this program if you're serious about chilling for a week for free in the gorgeous Spanish countryside, and meeting some seriously awesome people.
Now on to my favorite picture. The location of my program was a few minutes walk from the village of La Alberca in the region of Salamanca. We took a day trip into town to see the sights and, like, learn stuff and stuff. This is one of the things we learned about:
This big, smelly-ass pig lives on the streets of the town! And it lives off the generosity of the townspeople to feed it. At the end of the year, back in the day, they would give it to the poorest family in town. Nowadays they raffle it off, as I don't suppose any family would be too keen on being dubbed "the poorest in town".
When I said "smelly-ass" I was not being facetious, nor trying to be funny or cute. He smelled. His ass smelled. To be literal, as my adorable new British friend said upon seeing the copious amounts of feces caked to his backside, "he shat himself!".