The street I am staying on in Madrid is crawling with prostitutes. There are usually three or more huddled around my hotel doorway, and when I leave, they give me looks that make me feel unattractive. "No one would pay for that," they seem to say. "And put on some eyeliner, for christsake." I walk past another ten or so in the few blocks to the local pasteleria.

There are big differences between prostitutes in Madrid and San Francisco. In Madrid, for one, they are attractive. They don't really dress like the prostitutes in the US. They dress like women who have abandonment issues relating to their fathers, yes, but they don't wear clear heels or show nipple nearly as often. They do look like whores, of course, but so does the rest of the population.

We've been playing a game called "whore or Spaniard." Sitting at any number of tapas bars, we watch the women walk by, and try and determine who is, indeed, a whore. It's much harder than you might think, as the women here are very intent on making sure that everyone knows that they are in the posession of tits and ass, despite any sort of cellulite on said T&A. I've come up with a point system--black hair, for example, gives a woman +4, as the majority of the prostitutes seem to be dark-eyed Gypsies.

Today I am on to Granada, where if the last few days have been any indication, I will stuff my face and speak in broken Spanish. The only things I know how to say so far: "ham" and "I am not, but my friend is very drunk."