Road Trip to Pamplona (Running of the Bulls)

**I know that this looks like a lot of bland text on a page, but I assure you that there are some really cool things to read about here...I promise. So I hope you like it, enjoy!**

6.21.06
Travel Day! Wow, a whole day and night of uncomfortable crowded and stuffy cabins and bus seats. At the Morocco boarder, the line for the ferry was soooo long. We had to stand out in the hot sun for two hours before they finally let people on. Not to mention the 100 honking cars full of annoyed passengers while waiting in the hot sun with no water. It really quite a comforting and relaxing noise when people honk their horns over and over again for two freaking hours. Apparently they think that honking will solve their problems…So we finally got on the ferry and tried to sleep the whole way, and when we realized that nobody could sleep because it was so uncomfortable, we all got out our books and read.

A ferry and a bus ride later, we were back in Granada. Tonight we had a wonderful guest couchsurfer named Kat join us. She will be staying with us for two nights. We all pretty much just crashed because we were so exhausted.


6.22.06
Today was pure recovery. The food in Morocco had pretty much wreaked havoc on most of our stomach’s, so we were pretty much going nowhere if ya know what I mean. Eat lots and lots of bread, that’s all I have to say about that.

Later that evening, we went to another Irish Pub to watch the US vs. Ghana soccer game. I’ve decided that I will never drink another guiness outside of Ireland because it doesn’t taste nearly as good. Ok, that’s probably an overstatement, but I really was shocked at how different the fresh brew was to the stuff Ireland exports. After the game, we went to Poe for some tapas.

We decided that it would be a good idea to buy some cheap wine and stay away from the bars tonight. Instead we hiked up into hills across from the Alhombra to see what Granada’s night views had to offer. The Mirador de San Cristobal Terrace was a really chill place that apparently only the locals know about. There was some guy just playing flamenco on his guitar, chilling and leaning up against this stone cross in the center of the terrace. People just hung out there and sat right on the edge of the city hillside. The view was pretty magnificent. I had this weird thought about how sometimes it is hard to absorb the moment in present time. I tried to take it all in. It is usually the memory that you reflect back on. That’s when you realize what a good time it was. I’m trying to open my eyes more. I believe it is a skill to be practiced that anyone can learn how to do.

While walking up the steep cobblestone streets to the terrace, somebody in our group noticed a flyer posted up against a telephone pole. It said Fiesta del Agua and Fiest del Playa! Text this number if you want to go tomorrow! We really didn’t take it too seriously until we drank some wine, then realized that we could do whatever the hell we wanted and decided to try and go. So we texted the number and some guy replied back. He asked how many people, and we told him that the five of us and Kat would go. Another text came back and said to meet him tomorrow to buy tickets because the bus was now full.

6.23.06
Kat, Nithin, Mike and I woke up around 7am to walk down to meet Manollo (the text message guy) and buy tickets. We had all our stuff packed and were ready to hit the beach! We arrived at this guys aparment and he buzzed us in. It was a little creepy and weird because we thought it was some ticket office we were looking for. Well after the guy explained to us about the event he told us the bus didn’t leave until 9PM, not 9am. And here the stupid Americans show up ready to head to the beach at 9am. Manollo explained the whole thing in Spanish and Nithin and Kat were the only ones who kind of knew Spanish. The only thing we got out of him was be at the busses at 9pm, and bring nothing but your swim suits, and a shirt because all your stuff will get wet. We had no idea where we were going or what to expect, it was so exciting.

We returned home and I headed to the internet café to type up some more stuff and bought tickets to fly to London in about a month. Aaron decided to go as well, so we headed down to the busses a little early for the crazy night to come and see if we could get him a ticket. When we got there, nobody spoke English. There were like four people there who we overheard speaking English. It really made it fun because we had no idea what was coming up or where we were going or even how long we’d be gone! Aaron got lucky and eventually made it on and didn’t even have to pay. Unfortunately, he had to go on a different bus by himself… and he doesn’t speak a word of Spanish! Hahaha. The bus drove up into the Sierra Nevada Mountains on some winding highway. I looked out the window and apparently everyone was going to the same place; the highway was full of traffic.

The bus finally ended up parking in some dirt lot on the side of a mountain and everyone piled off. They were handing out blue plastic buckets and plastic bags, so I assumed this was the Fiesta del Agua (the water festival) and we would need these buckets sooner or later. Nithin overheard that the plastic bags were to keep all of our extra clothes and items dry. Now we realized that the stupid Americans hadn’t brought any extra clothes because Manollo told us not to! It was going to be a cold night. We started to follow the mass crowd about a mile down this road that led us to a small mountain town called

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I began to see people walking the opposite direction and they were wet from head to toe carrying supersoakers and buckets. The closer I got, the more music and drums I heard. Finally I rounded the corner and saw crowds of people yelling and jumping up and down getting water poured on them from the balconies above. The street was narrow enough to get you wet no matter where you walked. So we grabbed our buckets and ran in! We started stripping off our clothes down to our suits because having a cold wet t-shirt on was not very warm. It was so crowded in spots that you were squished body to body with these people jumping and yelling. I was trying to blend in, so I started to jump around with everyone and learn the chants the crowd was saying. “Mucho Agua, Mucho Agua, Oye!, Oye!” They kept yelling the “Oley” song that every soccer fan in Europe knows. When I didn’t know the song, I’d just yell out random sentences and no one seemed to notice. As we continued down the water gauntlet into the madness, the streets started to flood with water. There was a small river floating down the middle of the street and gutters. People eventually broke out the firehoses and sprayed people walking by. All of the old people in the town were sitting inside the nice, dry café’s sipping their coffe and looking out at all the young partiers making asses of themselves. At one point there was a band playing on the sidewalk with all their gear water proofed with plastic bags and they were getting doused with water from above.

Once we were beyond freezing cold, we all started to make the mile long walk in the darkness back to the busses for our next party, the Fiesta del Playa. It was just great that everyone but us brought a warm, dry pair of clothes to change into before getting on the bus except us. We hopped on the bus and it was apparently heading to some beach somewhere. We picked out of the Spanish talk around us that the Fiesta del Playa is held annually on the summer solstice to banish your sins away and start a fresh new year. I guess the ritual is to go to the beach and jump over a bonfire three times, then your sins are burned away. You then run down to the water and splash yourself in the face to keep your beauty for another year.

Well that was the coldest bus ride of my life. I could just feel my immune system giving in. I started to get a cough and my stomach has felt like a freakin blender ever since I returned from Morocco.

The bus finally arrived at Almuncia Playa (beach) and everyone stumbled wearily off the bus after a torturous hour of Spanish girls singing old 80’s Kareoke. Keep in mind, it was 4am by the time we got to the beach. Another thing I’ve noticed about the Spanish is that they don’t kid around when it comes to a party. There were bonfires spread out all over the beach with hundreds of people spread out around them. There were DJ’s blasting Techno and ravers with glow sticks. There was this group of Euro-Hippies who were twirling fire chains. They lit a ball of fire at the end of a chain in each of their hands and swung them around their bodies in a melodic trance. We sat there watching the fire and walking the beach until 8 in the am and then watched the sun come up over the Oceanside cliffs. I was so dead and I just wanted a bed to crash on but se still had another hour and a half bus ride left back to Granada. We arrived home completely exhausted and slept the rest of the day. I’d say it was a pretty cool experience for just stumbling by a wrinkled piece of paper stapled to a street post in some random alleyway.


6.24.06 and 6.25.06
Recovery from partying and from Morocco. The next two days were composed of sleeping, eating, reading, and watching football games. I also texted Sophie and she agreed to come over on Monday to teach me how to make some French dinner!


6.26.06
Today we went to the Granada Planetarium and Museo del Natural History and Science. I learned a lot about the Alhombra and it’s culture in a historical point of view. It was neat to experience a kids education through another culture. The planetarium was kind of lame and I couldn’t understand what the guy was saying, but it was a fun time.


6.27.06
I met Sophie at 5pm at the bottom of the Parc de Truimph. I said I’d buy because she was cooking for myself and my four other roommates. She was doing us a huge favor to go out of her way for us to make dinner. We walked to the Almena grocery store and bought everything needed, plus some Tinto de Verano.

We walked back to my place and started cooking. I introduced her to Nithin, Mike, and Aaron because they didn’t get to meet her that night in the bar a few weeks ago.

I told her about some of my adventures in Morocco and the Fiesta del Agua the other night. She actually went to the Fiesta del Playa as well, but we just missed each other.

Listening to Sophie, I realized that even though we grew up in such different places and cultures, we are still so much alike. Every person around the world has the same basic wants and needs. People will find a way to be social. People will find a way to eat and sleep. People follow their personal morals that they have lived and been taught since they were young. It is the same around the whole world.

I was talking to her about music and she liked Sum 41, Blink 182, Metallica, and some other various popular American music. I asked her if she could write down some of her favorite French bands and some good techno. Then she told me one of her favorite bands was (my friends at home are going to love this)…NIGHTWISH! Boom!! That is awesome because I think my friends and I are the only people in America who know about this Swedish Metal Band. I put it on and she was excited that I knew about them too.

I found out that she has 7 sisters and 2 brothers! Her father is in the French military, so she has moved all around France ever since she was young. It was a really fun evening and I enjoyed talking and listening to her. At the end of the night, she was leaving and I gave her a small colored lamp that I bought in Morocco. I saw the lamp and it reminded me of her, so I though it would be a nice “Thank you.”

When she was leaving, instead of kissing on the cheek, she gave me a hug! I was really glad too because the last time I tried to hug her, I thought I might have offended her. But this time she hugged me. I really hope to see Sophie again. She is a very warm hearted person and I’m glad to have met her.


6.28.06
!!!!ROADTRIP!!!!
Woke up very early and headed out, said goodbye to our home in Granada. We walked across town, with our boxes of stuff we packed to send home, to the car rental place. We rented two nice 5 speed manual Nissans. We also bought walkie talkie’s to communicate from car to car. I was a little nervous to start out driving because my experience with a stick shift was somewhat limited and I had no idea what some of the road signs meant. Thankfully, Nithin, Mr. Ryan, and Aaron have already driven quite a bit in Europe and are familiar with the signs. So I just followed them.

The drive has yet again changed my perspective on Espagnia. The countryside was beautiful. We drove through the Sierra Nevadas to Valencia on the East coast. The farmland was amazing. It seemed that there was an endless field of plant’s all lined up in unison for miles and miles.

It looked like the whole country was striped. They even went over some of the mountain tops. The country had very red soil and the vegetation was yellow and green. It really gave me a sense of why the flag is red and yellow. The country also reminded me of the Southern Texas and Mexico terrain… very hot and red.

We stopped in Valencia and walked out onto the beach. The water was a perfect temperature.

The waves were pretty flat but the sunset made the stop over worth it.

The beach was lined as far as you could see with Paella restaurants. We, of course, walked the whole thing to find the cheapest place and sat down. We ordered two paella dishes. One had Rabbit meat in it and the other had seafood. The shrimps weren’t peeled. They were just thrown in the fryer and put on your plate. I just love it when you actually get to stare eye to eye with your food before you eat it. Yummy. We hit the road again to some random small town, parked, and slept in the cars on the side of the road. The stars were brilliant.


6.29.06
Europe, the only place in the world where you can hear techno blasting at 7am. The radio stations here simply don’t stop playing it! We continued our trip from Spain, through the mountainous extremely small country of Andorra, to the Southwestern part of France. I could see the giant Pyrenees rising up in the distance. That was the boarder of Andorra. Before we hit the boarder we passed through a canyon on the highway where the river below was red!

It must have been some mineral in the water but it was really cool looking.

We arrived to Andorra and just drove by the checkpoint without stopping…apparently this is not a problem here. Andorra is known in the tech world for not having any tax on electronics. So it is full of electronics stores. Aaron wanted to buy an Ipod and Mike needed a new digital camera. We walked all over the city, through the malls, on the street and bargained with the shop owners. Bought what we needed and headed out. It was slightly rainy and cloudy when we started climbing over the mountain pass into France. The wet mountain air reminded me of home in Colorado. There is only one highway that goes through Andorra, yet we still managed to get lost and split up. Nithin and I where in one car and we figured to meet them at the French boarder. Not to difficult of a task because the highway directions say either Spain…or France. So we started up the pass without them.

It was neat to see all of the small ski villages with the chairlifts traveling up to the empty cloudy peaks. This is when the ride really started to get fun. The road had a ton of switchbacks once we got above tree line. What a better way to improve your stick shift skills than on the mountain passes of the Southern French Pyrenees. I felt like I was on some European race circuit. Those five speeds really haul ass. The speed limits would go from 30 on a switch back straight up to 90 kpm on a straightaway. As we arrived at the top of the peak, I pulled off the road to take in the view. We were standing at the top of a mountain pass on the boarder of Andorra and France. There were some horses out in the field, so I ran out there to try and pet one of them.

One of them must’ve thought I had food or something so he came trotting over to me. He let me pet him for a second and when he realized I didn’t have anything, he walked away.

We continued down the other side to a ski town snuggled up against these large barren peaks. This must’ve been the last checkpoint into France. It was the worst checkpoint ever! There were no guards and we didn’t even stop… we just blew right threw it.

After Nithin and I crossed over, I pulled the car into a muddy side parking lot on the outskirt of the ski town. I ran up the hillside and climbed up to the top of a boulder to take in the view.

I just couldn’t believe that I was sitting at the top of the French Pyrenees at the boarder of Andorra!

I never imagined the Pyrenees to be so sharp and jagged. I sat back and stared at the sheer peaks as the wind whipped up the clouds and poured them over the cliffs like a heavenly waterfall.

Eventually the other car crossed the boarder and we continued on. There was this really high mountain peak off in the distance to our right. I could tell that there was a small road that wound up to the top of it. The sun was setting and I thought… well we have the cars so why not use ‘em! So instead of going the direction we should have, we tried to find the road to the top of the peak. The sun was setting fast, so we were driving pretty fast. Pulled off onto this dirt road full of wet potholes and rocks but we figured these were rental cars so who really gives a damn. The road eventually got a little too rough for our cars to handle, so we had to turn back. But the scenery was awesome.

We headed down into the tiny French villages below, but had to make one more stop to go hiking. I was the leading car, so I pulled off near this scenic stop point on the highway. There was a trail off to our right and I convinced the guys to take a little hike before it got totally dark. We walked up into the forest which was wet and full of giant slugs. There were rock towers piled up every once and a while that must’ve been some kind of structure. Maybe an old chairlift device to transfer things up and over the mountain pass. It got dark and we didn’t have a flashlight, so it made walking back a blast.

Nithin and I followed Mike down into the tiny villages below, trying to tune in to a radio station with the Italy football match on. The French guy on the radio was just screaming like something just happened but we couldn’t understand what he was saying! We pulled over at a town with a big Casino in it. Some event was going on with a bunch of old people singing. Nithin and I walked over, pretending like we belonged there, grabbed some of the food that was out on the table and walked off. It was delicious! We walked across the street to a Pizzeria and sat down to watch the end of the Italy match. Ordered some pizza, ate it, and took off. We parked somewhere to sleep somewhere just outside Toulouse, France. Another night in the car…whoohoo.


6.30.06
Now we really got to see the French countryside. Wine vineyard after wine vineyard, after sunflower field, after sunflower field. It was gorgeous. Every small town we entered had some large stone cathedral in it. I could only wonder how long ago they were built and by whom. We were avoiding the main toll roads because they cost too much, so instead, we took these small windy roads through all of the villages untouched by tourists. Stopped in a village and bought a baguette, some duck pate, and meat to sit on this stone wall overlooking the city for lunch.

We arrived in Bordeaux and walked around. The city was right in the middle of Frances best and most famous wine country. And we just so happened to plan our trip to arrive here for the annual Fete le Vin, or Wine Festival. When I bought my tickets at the tourist office they gave me a wine glass with this years logo engraved on the side. It came with an incredibly touristy purse thing with a shoulder strap to hold your glass as you walked around. I figured whatever; you have to be a tourist sometimes. They also gave you a booklet full of coupons that you use to get your samples. Wines from around the world were here, as well as the finest brands in France and the Bordeaux region. We got to have about 12 half glass samples each…and if you flirt with the girls pouring you the wine they’d give you a bit more.

There was a large concert stage set up at the base of this stature with a towering column and an angel at the top. We started sampling our wines and watched the World cup matches. It was very intense because the under-rated French team was playing the last World Champions, Brazil. There were big screens set up everywhere.

Before we headed over to watch the game, we gave ourselves nicknames to make it sound like we were rich. Aaron was Theodore Chamberlain, I was Christoph Hunter IV, Mr. Ryan was Michael Terrace of the Overland Park Terrace Family, Mike was Joel Terrace… the second, half removed cousin on his mother’s side of Michael… and Nithin was Kumar Cheviat hailing from Puerto Rico.

With our names set, we headed in.

The game was really cool. France beat Brazil…something nobody expected to happen. The town went into complete party mode. I now know what it is like to be in a French city surrounded by French soccer hooligans, who just made it into the “Final Four” of the World cup. We walked back into the Fete le Vin and some techno DJ’s were on the concert stage. The towering columns were lit up with smoke and colored lights from the stage. It was quite a sight. The DJ’s kept yelling “Vive la Blue!” The DJ’s were playing remixes of old 80’s songs.

I couldn’t help myself but laugh. I thought it was even funnier that more than half the people in the crowd had no idea what the lyrics were saying and how dorky the song actually was. But I stuck with it and had a blast. We walked back around 1:30am through all the raging soccer fans and honking cars in the streets. Some people got in a little bit of a fight and started throwing wine bottles through the air. One smashed right next to us and we got the hell out of there.


7.1.06, Day in Bordeaux.
Today I walked around town on my own. I made my way North up to some Roman Ruins and a public park. The park was lush green with a river and ponds floating throughout. Brilliant white swans were gliding through the dark green waters. There was a carousel on a small island that was connected by a metal walking bridge over the pond. The large trees and hanging leaves provided shade everywhere. It was a place where one could relax, reflect, and draw inspiration out of life and nature itself.

I moved on and walked back down south to La Place de Gambetta, a small opening in the city where, during the Reign of Terror, a guillotine executed over 300 Bordeaux civilians. Now it is a quite little park with a small trickling pond and a river through the center. I was sitting on a bench and an old man approached me to talk. I told him I was working on speaking French. He was talking to me about the French game last night, and I showed him my bracket. I told him about where I was from and how I was a world traveler. He was a retired man who was simply walking around the park looking for conversation. He wished me well and moved on.

I walked the city in search of the elusive éclair au chocolate; the most delicious tiny chocolate pastry on the planet. I read about some bakery on the South side of the city, but if I took the time to walk there I would miss my rendezvous time with the others. So my éclair hunt proved to be somewhat of a challenge because it was a Sunday and all the shops are closed. I wandered by this nice Gothic cathedral on my way back, St. Andre.

I stopped at a tabac to buy a France patch for my backpack because I don’t know if I’ll be returning to France again. I finally found my éclair and sat down on a bench in the middle of some plaza and enjoyed the best damn éclair of my life. I promised myself seven years ago when I was in France before that I’d return to this place and have another éclair before I died. Mission accomplished.

I met up with the others and we walked to a wine tasting bar. The place was very well designed and the servers were top of the line.

I have a few new favorites. For white wine, the AOC Cerons Chateau Changrive (It tastes similar to Port wine, very sweet.) The best white in my opinion was the AOC Pessac Leognan Blanc. My favorite red wine is the AOC Bordeaux Superieur. We also had a plate of cheese that went surprisingly well with the wine. If you were to taste the cheese without the wine, it wouldn’t have tasted half as good.

We returned to the wine festival just in time for L’ecole du Vin, or the School of Wine class. This was awesome because they teach you how to drink wine. The instructor was speaking in French but this is mostly what I got out of it.

When tasting wine you will experience a sequence of flavors in your mouth with only one sip. The first flavor you taste when drinking the wine is the type of grape used. The second flavor that evolves in your mouth is the flavor born during fermentation. It will also vary based on what typed of wood the fermentation barrel was made of. The third and final flavor that you will taste is how long it has been aged.

There are three things you look for when drinking wine; Sight, Smell, and Taste. For the white wine, if it has an orange tint to it the younger the wine is. The lighter the color, the more aged it is. When you smell the wine, you do so without swirling it.

Then swirl it, releasing the aroma and smell it again. You will notice a significant difference. When you drink the wine, you let it sit inside your mouth, with some air still inside your mouth. Let it sit along the side of your tongue and then let it slide over the back of your tongue as you swallow. Breathe afterwards to get the full sense of the wine. With the Rose, or pink wine, the redder the color, the stronger the flavor. Le Vin Rouge, or Red wine is better to have at the end of a dinner, but before dessert because of its stronger and boulder qualities.

The darker it is, the richer it is. It has a very long aftertaste that lingers in the back of your mouth for a while. I really plan on researching how to taste wine more. I can totally see this becoming useful in the future…wink…wink.

The fireworks display was great. It was right over the river and the crowd was enormous.

It started drizzling rain but nobody cared. Besides, half the crowd was wine drunk and couldn’t be happier! I was talking to all the wine pourers behind the booths and they kept refilling my glass for free. Eventually the police officers started to escort people out, so we tried to run ahead of them to the booths that were about to close to get more free wine before they kicked us out. The rain started pouring down and everyone ran for the umbrellas and wine tents. The bands kept playing and beating their drums. The police couldn’t really do much so they just let the party continue. Mike and I ran over to get a big bucket of French fries and then walked around looking for a party. Mike kept yelling, “Ou est la Fete?!” meaning, “Where is the Party?!” That started a few good conversations with people, but we eventually headed back to our place and crashed.


***I must be missing a day here***


7.3.06
I packed up my stuff and walked over to a café for some café noir and an éclair au chocolate. I got a parking ticket on my car, but decided to become and international fugitive and not pay it…hahahahahahaaa.

Just outside of Bordeaux, our car broke down. The stick shift was stuck in 1st gear. We pulled over and called Europcar from a pay phone in a nearby grocery store. After we were transferred from French operators to Spanish and then to french again, they finally sent us a tow truck. Europcar said they would send us a taxi to take us to the nearest Europcar location in Bordeaux. The tow truck guys eventually came, but the taxi didn’t. Three hours later our car was gone but the freakin taxi still hadn’t shown up. I was so pissed. Finally we said screw this and piled into our remaining car and drove to the place ourselves. On the drive over Mike and I decided that we could pretend to be pissed off better than anyone else, so we would do the talking. We walked into the location at the train station, but the lady was absolutely no help. We got a replacement car but she told us that if we wanted to get compensation we would have to DRIVE BACK TO GRANADA to get it! That’s what I call customer service. I think the French and Spanish hate each other anyway, so I’m sure that didn’t help. Mike and I were so pissed off we pretty much just grabbed the key from her and stormed out of the office. What a day, 6 hours of travel down the tube thanks to Europcar. We decided to start driving south to San Sebastian, Espagnia.

On the way we bought off time by joking around on the walkie talkies. One car would tell one guy to do an impression, like Arnold Schwarzenegger doing HIS impression of a Japanese infomercial salesman, or Keanu Reeves doing an impression of HIS Latino girlfriend. Or Darth Vader who smoked entirely too much pot and was describing HIS favorite movie. Then the next car would have to do the impressions.

Mike ran over a hedgehog.

We arrived at San Sebastian lat at night, but got out and walked around anyway. We found some side street and slept in the cars.


7.4.06, the 4th of July!!!
When the sunlight came up I saw what a beautiful ocean town San Sebastian is. It is located just south of the French boarder on the North shore of Spain. There is a large river that flows out into the ocean and goes right through the city. It is surrounded on all sides by large cliffs and hills, and a large enclosed bay with crystal clear blue water. There is a large statue of St. Sebastian placed on top of one on the outstretched arms of the bay. The arm on the other side has castle ruins at the top of the cliffs. Both sides were fortified with large cannons to cross fire and blow incoming enemies out of the water. This place has been used as a vacation spot for the ruling Kings and Queens of Spain for centuries and is said to be one of the best coastal towns in all of Europe.

The language is different here because of the Basque Separatist Movement against Spain. There has been a large terrorist movement because the Basque people wish to have their own country. It is very similar to the IRA in Northern Ireland. The Basque history is very mysterious because nobody knows where they originated from. Their language doesn’t originate from any European or Romantic languages. They are one of the oldest races in Europe. Fortunately, they signed a cease-fire with the Spanish about four months ago before we arrived here.

We rented bikes and road along the coastal town.

The weather was a little rainy so we didn’t get to soak in the rays, but I would come back here in a heartbeat for a nice sunny day at the beach.



Being the 4th of July, we thought it would be fit to celebrate our countries independence by eating hamburgers, fries, and getting really messed up, and hopefully blowing something up by the end of the night. We found our burgers, ate them, and went to get coffee at a bar. We sneaked in a bottle of Irish whiskey and took turns carrying it into the bathroom with our backpack to spike our coffee. We watched the semi-finals at the bar. Italy won the match against the home team Germany, as I predicted, and now I’m in the lead to our World Cup bracket we made about a month ago. We hit the bars and Nithin and I made the other guys buy us drinks because they bet on Germany winning and they obviously lost.

While walking through the streets, we saw this guy who was wearing a US flag as a cape for a shirt and when he walked by we yelled, “America…” and about 5 people around us responded with, “Fuck Ya!” This is a popular thing to say thanks to the movie Team America, from the creators of South Park. We headed back to our parked cars for a nice sleep curled u pin the back seat of a rental car, how refreshing.


7.5.06
I woke up and threw up in the gutter. A lovely way to start off the day, but it’ll sure wake you up in the morning. I ate some bread and meat from the grocery store and then drove to Bilbao, the Capital of Basque Country. There was a nice hotel room and hot shower waiting for us there. We drove right along the coast and it was a very scenic drive through all the Spanish coastal towns.

Arrived and immediately hit the showers. We heard there was a Pizza Hut across the street and we pretty much ran over there with our tongues hanging out. We ordered two large pizzas, bought some coke and walked back to the hotel. That thick, greasy pizza tastes like God himself made it for us, it was so good. We kicked back and watched a movie and the last semi-final football game between Portugal and France. France won, believe it or not, and then I went to bed. For tomorrow and the following days await an adventure non of us will ever forget… the Fiesta del San Fermin, also known as the Running of the Bulls.


7.6.06
I walked across the street to the mall the next morning to buy a pair of cheap running shoes. We drove through Bilbao to see the Guggenheim Museo, which as the navigator, proved to be a hectic task. As we drew closer to Pamplona, I couldn’t help but let my imagination take over as to what I was about to experience. A surreal feeling came upon me. I thought about what people in history have said about the running, from Ernest Hemingway to Walt Whitman. “Only fools run.” I knew only a few things about what I was about to go through. I know I will experience an adrenaline rush to a magnitude I’ve never felt before. I know I’m about to partake in an event that is considered a dangerous event. Why? I don’t know. I’m hoping that my emotions and the experience I have while doing it will answer this question. Nobody can truly tell you what it is like unless you get off your ass and do it yourself. I am excited to let this future memory unravel right in front of my eyes.

As soon as we pulled into Pamplona, I started to see people dressed in white with red handkerchiefs and sashes. We parked our cars and walked to check our bags. We bought our clothes on the way because when we store our bags, we won’t have access to them for three days.

So, I was only wearing one set of clothes. Walking through the alleys, all you could see was complete wasteland. People everywhere were smashed beyond imagination and wet from Sangria stains.

We checked our bags and started to party.

Music was blasting everywhere and the streets were crowded to the max. People were chanting, singing, dancing, and every bar was packed. Don’t worry about looking or smelling dirty because then you wouldn’t fit in.

The whole festival lasts 7 days, a non stop party.

People from all around the world come and sleep wherever they land, whether it be on the street full of broken glass, trash, and puke or in a field or on a park bench.

They sleep during the morning and early afternoon and then party the rest of the day and night. Eventually fireworks started blasting the sky above us. I ran into a guy who asked where I was from and when I told him he got really excited. He studied in Boulder for a semester abroad. He was really friendly after that and tried to tell all his friends that I was from CO. When he found out we were all sleeping in the park, he said NO! Come and stay at my place. His girlfriend obviously objected because he she was slapping him, but he walked away from her and told us to come by and meet him tomorrow night. He is a bartender named Txus, which is a Basque name. So maybe he’ll hook us up later?

We go split up because some people wanted to crash in the park and I still wanted to go out. I went with them to go to sleep, but the night proved to be very cold and miserable.

So naturally, in order to keep warm, I got up and went to a Techno Rave on the other side of the park and danced my ass off until 5am. I met lots of cool people in the crowd. These two Basque girls from San Sebastian like to speak English and they were interested in where I came from. They told me how much the Basque people hate the Spanish and they consider themselves just like the Northern Irish and fight to win their independence. I also ran into another San Sebastian guy who told me about how he loves the US and how he wanted to move to Philly next year. He found out about how long I was traveling for and he told me something worth remembering…”Be a good ambassador for your country because many people don’t understand what it is really like.”


7.7.06
I headed down into town from my lovely sleeping spot next to a tree in a park just outside the city walls. The first Encirro, running, started at 8am. Yesterday, I walked the course and saw how intimidating it really was. These bulls average about 1,300lbs and have horns about the size of a human arm. Every local I’ve talked to told us not to do it because it is very dangerous. At the same time none of them have done it themselves. The alleyways are all boarded up so the bulls stay on course. It also happens to make it very difficult for people to get out. There were so many people crowded around and were sitting on top of the gates that you really couldn’t see much. They let off a cannon to signal that the gate has been opened and a second cannon signaling that the bulls are all out and running. Out of the small opening in front of me, I could see a river of white and red streaming by with an occasional blur of black bull and horns. One bull fell over right in front of us. It was massive! I can’t imagine the fear that those people in there were going through. I had pretty much decided right there that I would not run.

I headed to the internet café to see if my SAE brother, Chris Hatcher, would be able to meet me here. He sent an email that said he’s on his way and to meet him at 12:30 at the train station. So I booked it out of there just to make it on time. The train station was all the way outside the old city, so I had to walk a ways to get there. On the way there I walked right by the bull pin where they keep the bulls until they let them all out on the street. I could smell the beasts and there was an unusual sense of sadness and negativity that I felt here. I thought about the gladiators of Ancient Rome and thought that these bulls pretty much are going through the exact same thing. They are honored all over the country and are treated very well, that is until their epic and disturbingly violent death in the ring. But keeping them held in that tiny pin just made me cringe. I made it to the station and ran into a guy who had run that morning. He told me that one guy was paralyzed and six people were sent to the hospital. He gave me some advice and said that if you get up front and run into the arena you won’t even see the bulls. So I started to consider running again with this new information. I picked up Hatcher and walked him down the Encirro running route to study it and prepare for the run. We looked at every corner, every section and tried to figure out where we should start and look at possible exit points. If we were going to do this, I sure as hell wanted to be prepared for it. We kept talking about how incredible it is that we were here and were going to do this. The thrill, the adrenaline, the adventure, the risk, the danger all lingered in my mind. I decided that if one never allows risk into his or her life, they can not fully and truly experience the potential of the situation at hand. We got dressed in the traditional garb, all white with a red handkerchief and sash, and reminisced about the past. We talked about how we’d be old men someday and we would remember this experience for the rest of our lives.

Hatcher and I met up with the others in a park and hung out for a while.

There were other “couch surfers” as well, one of whom ran today. I asked him to shed some light for us. The course consists of about four turns. One of those is a near 90 degree angle and is referred to as “Death Corner.” After the corner there is a long run with no escapes. It is the longest part of the course and is slanted upwards. After that there is a slight turn left and wooden gates guide the runners and the bulls down through the Plaza del Torros (Bull Arena) tunnel and out onto the arena floor. The most dangerous part is the very end, in the tunnel because it gets very narrow. People usually fall and cause a blockage of human bodies. This leaves no room for the bulls to go except to jump up and over the human wall, usually resulting in someone getting crushed. If you fall, stay down and cover your head. The bulls don’t want to step on you just as much as you don’t want them to step on you. Chances are they will jump over you. Of course, you’ll probably have pissed yourself several times by then so I would suggest pouring some Sangria all over yourself to cover it up. Do not stop running no matter what. If you are in the bull’s path you will be seriously injured and possibly killed.

This new information continued to psych me out, but I made a band with Hatcher and Mr. Ryan to run no matter what.

I couldn’t help but dwell on it for the rest of the night… I could possibly come out of this with broken bones, be paralyzed, or not even come out at all… It’s quite a mind f*ck.

That evening, we wanted to have the best night of our lives because it might be our last. It started off by watching on of the largest fireworks displays I’ve ever seen. Every night, a team from a different country competes to see who has the most intense display. I’m sorry to say it but these fireworks put anything I’ve seen in the US to shame. They were very loud, the boom vibrating through the narrow streets, alleyways, and plazas of the old city. We partied for a while and wandered the crowded streets.

Of course, I had to initiate Hatcher to San Fermin, so I poured Sangria all over his shirt while he was taking a swig.

Now he truly fits in with his stained white tee. We eventually found our way back to the park to get some sleep because in four hours we were going to place ourselves, our lives, into the hands or risk, luck, wit, and physical strength. Sleep well…


7.8.06 The Encierro, The Running.
I woke up before the sun rose, just as the sky was turning blue. I opened my eyes and looked upon the beautiful city horizon up on the hill. Adrenaline started to flow.

I walked around kicking the guys to get up. Hatcher, Mr. Ryan and I headed down from the park and into the city. It was already crowded with drunken people still partying from the night before.

The barricades were full of people sitting on them and the crowd grew from those who wanted to get a glimpse of the run. We planned on meeting the other guys, who were sleeping in another park, to take care of our stuff while we ran. As we waited for them in the Plaza de San Francisco, I was thinking of the run before me. I knew I had to stop thinking about what could happen to me and start pumping myself up, turning the negative thoughts into mental fuel and energy. The clock struck 7am and we headed out to try and get through the crowd and into the running area. We tried to get in one entrance somewhere in the middle of the course, but didn’t have any luck.

It was already closed. So we had to do something that none of us wanted to do and enter at the main gate, right at the beginning of the course. The crowd was so thick I had to wiggle my way through. Fortunately with my skinny build this wasn’t a problem for me. We got through the gate. Now it was only a matter of time until the bulls were unleashed. We wanted to get as far from that opening gate as possible. It was tough to move upward through the crowd. People were somewhat panicky. I came across a girl who was probably about 24. She was crying because the crowd was pushing her. I wanted to say something but we’re all in the same situation here. There is nothing I can do for her. The scent of beer and sweat permeated the air. We pushed our way past the clock tower and right up to the “Death Corner.” Out of nowhere, this line of police ran across the street and blocked it off. That was it, we were stuck here until the bulls were let go; way before the area we wanted to be in. As I was waiting there I observed the faces of the people around me. Every man has their own pressure gauge and when it peaks, they go into survival mode. Instinct kicks in. You will do whatever you have to do to not get killed.

I was looking at each one of them and wondering what they were thinking. How they confronted their own personal anxiety and pressure as they confront danger head on. Most just stood there, staring blankly into space, and reflecting on the situation they were in.

I could just feel the tension rising with all those people crammed into such a small place. Drums were slowly banging, just like the scene before Brave heart leads his men to battle the English. Thump…thump…thump…Each drum ticking down the seconds that were left. The balconies above us were full of people and TV crews.

The whole world would soon be watching us from above. This is the only place on the planet where people are crazy enough to do this. It didn’t bother me though. At the time I could care less about anyone but myself. I was focused. I will not be hurt today. I am alert and aware of the danger and I will run faster than I ever have before. It was every man for himself down here and I was ready.

It takes the bulls about 10 seconds to reach the area that we were in. This is the information that the policeman in front of me was telling us. He said we’d be held here until the cannon goes off. It was about 7:50, ten minutes before the cannon sounds, and all of a sudden the Police line just walked away. People started to rush forward. This is when I realized that they formed that line only to mentally psych people out so they will run too early! We still had ten minutes left and people were running. So I waited next to the barricade for Mr. Ryan and Hatcher and we slowly walked past “Death Corner” to our planned starting point and waited. More than half the people had already run past us. Now it was time to really get pumped up. I started stretched my legs and jumping up and down to warm up.

Boom… the first cannon bursts above the city…Boom… the second cannon goes off. We started to slowly walk as the crowd rushed by. Keep in mind, a lot of these people running will not even see the bulls. They are running too soon. The question is when is the right time to run? We started to dash a little quicker, hopping up and down to see if the bulls had rounded “Death Corner.” Still…we waited, just a little longer. A huge wall of people started rushing towards us. From the look of panic on their faces I knew there were bulls behind them. That’s it…GO. I ran as fast as I could. Sprinting on the wet cobblestone was not easy. With a rushing crowd pushing you in every direction you had to concentrate on not falling. I could see the barricades off in the distance; that is my way out. People were falling over left and right. Bam…a guy right in front of me hit the ground. I instinctively jumped over him. Bam, another…Bam and another after that fell. Every one of my senses kicked in to be the most alert and efficient my body has ever been. I didn’t look back. I could sense the bulls were directly behind me. Up comes the barricade. I leaped for it and grabbed the top wooden blockade. Just as I had the chance to turn around to my left and see where the bulls were, three 1,300 lb bulls slammed through the crowd about a foot away from my body. I was pushed back off the barricade and had no choice but to keep running. There were still three bulls behind me as I ran down the ramp towards the arena tunnel entrance. This was the most dangerous place to be. A place I had not intended to end up in. I was between two groups of three bulls each. All my mind was telling me was Go…Run…Go…

I ran into the tunnel. All I remember from there was still images flashing through my mind. I remember seeing the silhouettes of the few people in front of me as the sunlight penetrated through from the small arena entrance. It created a golden haze as the sun mixed with the dust and humidity. I jumped over a guy who fell inside the tunnel. The last three bulls were right behind me. The climax of adrenaline had hit me as I poured out of the tunnel and saw the glorious arena with a full crowd of screaming and hollering fans. The noise hit me all at once and the booming crowd cheered. I ran off to the side and as my senses started to come back to a normal state. I had made it. I had run with the bulls. I have done what few people in the world were willing to do. The arena was full of all the runners that ran ahead of me and they filled the sandy floor of the arena. The crowd was chanting songs and banging in unison as the bulls ran across the floor and into their pins on the other side. I bent down and took a handful of dirt off of the ground. I moved it around in my hands as I took in the scene in front of me.

The Plaza del Torro was round in shape, and very similar to the Roman Coliseum. There were blood stains in the sand from the bullfight of the previous day. I could almost see the individual sun rays as they streaked down the dust. Once again the sun illuminated a golden haze in the atmosphere as the dust and humidity merged. Thousands of people looked down at us yelling and singing. The birds circled above as if trying to see the action for themselves. A few hot air balloons lingered above the stadium as well. The moment was surreal, and it was a beautiful day to live again.

The Run was over, but we were still inside the arena and I knew this thing wasn’t over yet. The crowd started to quickly maneuver around as a smaller bull with corked horns was let into the ring. The bull was tossing people over the 6 foot high walls like they were rag dolls. Every time someone was gored the crowd went crazy. People would run up to the bull and hit it on the face. This is the place where the man the day before was paralyzed. There were numerous times where the bull was aimed right at us while I was perched on the inside wall of the arena. It snorted and kicked up dust with its front hoof, getting ready to charge. Then some guy jumped out and hit it so it charged him instead. I felt the urge growing inside me to risk just a little more. The crave for that extra little dose of adrenaline haunted me. It’s addictive, a natural high. I jumped off the side protective wall and ran out into the crowded floor. The feeling of knowing that you are not the dominant species inside that arena is nerve wracking. I felt as if I was the hunted instead of the hunter. The crowd was thick. I couldn’t see very far over the heads of the crowd, so I was blinded to the bull’s whereabouts. Out of nowhere the crowd would part and a raging bull would plow through. With little to no warning, I had to dive out of the way to avoid getting plowed into. I quickly decided that this was my limit. I had risked enough today to walk away with the satisfaction of knowing that I didn’t back down in the face of fear. I challenged myself and my body to an extreme and succeeded.

I have earned the right to wear my sash and patch as I am now among the few proud and brave Encierro runners. Some will say stupid as well, but I’ve experienced something that they will never understand, and I don’t regret it.

I hopped over the wall and met Mr. Ryan and Hatcher. We exchanged our stories with such enthusiasm and excitement. It’s amazing how you feel so much more alive when you look danger in the face. We all had different stories, yet we all started and ended at the same point. Hatcher ran right next to the bulls. They were inches from his body as he ran into the stadium. Mr. Ryan had been pushed and fell just before the arena entrance and immediately rolled under the barricade next to him. When he got up, a bull was standing in the exact spot where he was lying. It turned around, which is the most dangerous thing the bull can do because it will charge at anything. They seer’s turned the bull around and then Ryan jumped back in and ran into the stadium.

Afterwards, we all met up back at the baggage check in the Plaza del San Francisco and shared our adventure with those who didn’t run or were considering running.

We convinced Mike, Aaron, and Nithin to do it. Hatcher and I had completed our goal, which we set a year ago to meet in Pamplona and run. Years down the road this will be one bonding memory we can share as SAE brothers and lifelong friends. Hatcher left for Madrid because he had no money…it was stolen the night before by pickpockets. So his time in Pamplona was short.

The day seemed extraordinary beautiful. I don’t know if it was some chemical imbalance still in my system, but life seemed wonderful. The sun rays glinting off the trees and warming the city. The birds chirping seem a little louder than usual. I noticed the quiet reflection of those who had just run as well. You could see it in their faces who had run. They were gleaming with excitement.

We went to the park and just laid out on the grass under the old trees and absorbed life. We played drinking games all day and just had one hell of a fun time. The third day’s fireworks went off and yet again blew my mind away. It seems like they just keep getting bigger and bigger each day. Since we convinced most of the people in our group to run, they all wanted to sleep that night. The group decided to move from the park and down into the ruins next to us to avoid pickpockets, which was a hopeless goal. The other night Hatcher and Mr. Ryan were pick pocketed. Ryan actually woke up while lying down in the park and some guy was lying next to him with his hand on Ryan’s hip! Ryan asked what the hell he was doing and the guy responded with “Do you have a cigarette?” Then got up and walked away. Ryan had no idea that the guy got away with his and probably Hatcher’s money until the next morning.

I had no intention of going to sleep on the night before we left the biggest party in Europe. Myself and another couch surfer, Kim, went out while the others slept for their big day running tomorrow. The streets were crowded of course, but it was still a blast. We eventually ran out of steam and headed back to the park to endure yet another frigid night sleeping on the ground with no blanket, pad, or sleeping bag. But at the same time, it didn’t really bother me. I did something today that changed the way I see things. I’m content and happy with my decision to run, no matter how stupid people might think it is. Sleeping in the dirt didn’t bother me that night because I felt like a champion who had just one a great battle. It was one of the best night sleeps I’ve ever had.


7.9.06
I woke up feeling energized. It was 6am and I practically jumped up to wake the others. Today was their day to run. I walked over, kicked Aaron and said, “Hey, get up!...Do you want to run with some Bulls today or what?” We packed up our stuff and headed towards the noisy old city. Ryan and I gave Mike, Aaron and Nithin some last minute advice and pumped them up before the run. They split to try and get through the barricades on time. Ryan and I had to watch everyone’s stuff while they were gone, but Mr. Ryan wanted me to go and film the running for him. Kim and I took the camera and ran through the streets to the barricade just near the clock tower where I entered yesterday. I had to stand my ground to get a good view point. People were pushing and shoving almost desperately to get in. The gates close around 7:30am, so Policeman wouldn’t let anyone else in after that. I found it interesting that people would crawl on the ground underneath the barricade while the policeman turned his back. You would think that people would want to be crawling out, but not here in Pamplona… at least not yet.

People were climbing up on the top of the street lamps and balconies and the sides of the city buildings to see the run. Singing and dancing lasted all the way up until the clock tower in front of me struck 8:00. The first cannon sounded and the crowd went wild. The second cannon boomed and then the bulls came rushing by. It lasted only a second, but I got enough on film to remind me of what a completely insane event this is. I returned to San Francisco to rally with the others afterwards. Once the others returned, I interviewed their reactions and got them on tape. Then we had to run to the bus station to catch our bus.

Our original plan to head to Irun fell through because of the chaos of hundreds of travelers at the bus station worked its magic on us. The lady at the counter said our bus tickets that we booked didn’t exist. So we just bought tickets back to Bilbao, the Basque Capital, for another night. Tonight will be our 4th night out of 11 days to sleep in a bed. That’s vagabonding for ya.

Ya, you probably guessed it. We headed straight back to that Pizza Hut and bought two large greasy pizzas and coke to watch the final World Cup match between Italy and France. We all smelled like something died after four days without a shower or a change of clothes so we cleaned up and watched the match. Italy won after two halves, a double overtime, and a shoot-out, two to one over France. I had claimed victory to the pot of a whopping 30 Euros we all bet a month ago as to who would win. This is the first bracket I’ve ever nailed. I ate my pizza with great pride and reveled in my own awesomeness, then went to sleep.


7.10.06, Santander.
We caught a bus to Santander; another coastal town in Northern Spain. We tried to find a place to stay. I was down for just sleeping on the beach and not pay for a hotel, but the other pansies needed their beauty sleep, so we searched for the cheapest room. We found a fairly cheap room and devoted the rest of the day to resting and catching up on our own personal things before moving on to Germany.


7.11.06
Mike, Nithin, and I walked to the grocery store which was ironically named “Super BM.” I was a little concerned about what kind of food was sold there, but I took a chance at it anyway. We found this bag full of tiny crispy brochette bread pieces. Then we bought mozzarella cheese chunks, a can of tomato sauce, olive oil, and meat. We took it up onto the hill to get a view of the bay and had a little picnic. If you combine all of that stuff on the bread and you have a tasty little brochette all for under three Euros.

Later on Mike and I hit the beach. It was cloudy but still warm. I was expecting to see some 20 something babes in bikinis but ran into 10 and under fun day at the beach. So we tried to tune out all the screaming kids by finding an open area and played Frisbee. When we returned, Nithin walked in and said that he ran into the Quebecians, Simon and Chantell, on the beach. They stayed with us for a few days while back in Granada. So we met them at the train station to go eat some food. I had a really good veal steak, a tuna omlette, and a Russian salad. We headed home to get some sleep before our next crazy trip started to Germany and Amsterdam. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about my journeys through Ireland, Spain, Morocco, and France. Now let’s see what Portion 2 of our travels has in store for us while we travel the rest of Europe.