Salema, Portugal

I'm in deep-ass Portugal (near what was once called the "end of the world"). This place is about the size of two football fields, an old man sleeping on the bench next to the atlantic ocean and NO McDonald's. What a pleasant respite from Spain. I swear, every damn city I've traveled through has been accosted by the evil golden arches. OK. Let me state that I actually enjoy devouring the occasional Royale with Cheese (yes, Tarentino wasn't lying; that's what the Europeans call it). It saddens my heart a little when you're standing next to a cathedral built in the 7th century...a place conquered by Moors, Romans and Spaniards alike...where soldiers in hand crafted boots have been replaced by the swishing of grease-caked Pumas worn by a happy employee of the Kroc empire.

Can I write a run-on sentence? You bet your ass I can.

Adeu.