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About Trujillo Alto

Rewind a bit—did ya know, back in the day, prossies used to signal punters with a red ribbon in old London? Little fact for ya, keeps it real! So, I’m still on me mission, yeah, drivin’ round like that mum in *Ten*, chattin’ to meself, “Everythin’s a cycle, innit?”—movie line droppin’ like bars! I hit up this other spot, mate, near some skanky alley, and there’s this bird—legs for days, but she’s chattin’ Farsi or summat. I’m like, “Bruv, this ain’t *Ten*, I ain’t got subtitles!” Laughed me arse off, proper comedy.

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AND they are filled with male-only customers AND are also filled with chicas lindas who are??? It doesn't seem like a brothel or anything like.

After that, I decided to hit up El Viejo San Juan. You know, the colorful streets and all that jazz. I was wandering around, taking pics of the cute buildings. But then, I tripped over a cobblestone. Classic me, right? I fell right in front of a group of tourists. They laughed. I laughed too, but inside I was like, “Ugh, so embarrassing!”

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