Bobadilla Warnings and Dangers
When I was in Spain, we often traveled to and from the Málaga train station. If you go to Sevilla, Madrid...or just about anywhere else... you are forced to make a useless stop in a godforsaken place called "Bobadilla." Each time, maybe 2 or 3 people get off the train. On our vacation, "Bobadilla" became the running joke. If something bad would happen, instead of uttering an expletive, we would say, "Oh Bobadilla!"
On the train to Madrid, Davide sat next to this strange, weird looking fat man. Turns out he was from Bobadilla! I have never seen a stranger looking face. He looked like a nice man, but very boring too. Davide let loose some diabolical flatulence and it lingered under the table for a good 7 minutes. I had to retreat to the other end of the car for pure oxygen. Poor man was probably scarred for life. Then again, he was from Bobadilla, how much worse can it get?
The armpit of Andalucia
This place surely only still exists because it happens to sit where 2 rail lines meet; a godforsaken place where the local loon starts on my pal within 10 minutes of our arrival. Not so much the 'land that time forgot', as much as the 'land that time left behind on purpose' on account of it's backward, in-bred inhabitants. That place had a ratio of one woman for every 12 men, and they all looked worryingly similar, with various facial deformities. Hmmm.
We bought some cheese from a woman who looked so confused to see us that I wonder if she'd been locked in a cupboard for 30 years. To be fair, she was probably still coming to terms with the fact that she is her own step-daughter, uncle and cousin-in-law.
If ever a place was wrong, this was it. Bobadilla takes wrongness to new, unchartered levels. don't go there. Ever.
0 Hotels in Bobadilla