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About Zaragoza

First off, it’s shady as hell. You don’t just stroll up to some gal and go, “Hey, how’s biz?” Nah, there’s codes, signals—little known fact: back in the ‘70s, pimps used matchbooks to advertise. Dropped ‘em at bars, scribbled numbers inside. Clever, but sleazy. I hate clever sleaze. Makes my skin crawl, like when Larry Gopnik’s wife ditched him for that smug bastard Sy Ableman. “I’m a serious man,” Larry whines—yeah, me too, pal, ‘til I’m scoutin’ hookers.

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First off, there's Carrer de la Verge de Montserrat. Yeah, the streets here twist and turn real funky, and every corner's got a tale. I was walkin' there one day, and BAM—suddenly reminded me of that line in Tropical Malady: "I wander, I wander"—feels like the city itself is wanderin', you know? Ha, wild!

Indoor Pool in Manlleu