Brandle´s Journal

Road Trip to Pamplona (Running of the Bulls)

2006-07-13T12:48:00.000-07:00

**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.

Granada, Madrid, Morocco!

2006-06-24T12:36:00.000-07:00

6.10.06
Today I spent most of my time at the internet café and doing laundry. Tons of fun. I created my own blog site that links off of the Worldtrippers site. The guys and I walked back to O’Neil’s again to watch the Football game. I texted Sophie to see if she wanted to meet up. So, I ditched the group and met her at a fountain at the intersection of Gran Capitan and Martinez de la Rosa. She was on her way to her friends birthday party, so we only had about two drinks of Tinto de Verano. We talked about so many things. I asked her about food and she said that she likes to cook. I asked what kind of things she likes to make. One thing she mentioned was Rabbit. I told her that people where I come from would find me a little weird if I caught the neighborhood rabbits and cooked them. She asked me if I’d ever eaten Horse. I guess you can get Horse meat from certain places in France. She wants to go study in England for her last year. She is Catholic like myself. I admire the w2ay she thinks about her religion. She prays everyday and goes to church every Sunday. She had a very cool Rosary ring that had notches on it and 1 cross. So you twirl the ring and say your Hail Mary’s. I tried to explain to her about Scientology and how Hollywood is full of some pretty different people. She asked me if most people in America practice this “Scientology” and I said no.

Sophie went to her friends and I walked her to an intersection before I split. Now here was a very interesting culture clash. When I went to say goodbye, she went for the double kiss on the cheek and I went to hug her. I could tell it was a little weird for her because the French apparently don’t hug to often. It is considered very intimate. I didn’t know this until Nithin told me later that night. In my culture, you wouldn’t think twice about it. Anyway, I said I’d call when I returned from our road trip and took off.

I walked back to find my roommates playing some kind of RISK card game, but they were using chips, fruit, and orange peels as their armies. It actually worked and began to make sense after a while. Looks like we have a new game to play!

I want to ask Sophie about the music she likes and if she could possibly teach me how to cook something. We’ll see.

6.11.06
Went to the park and laid out for a few hours. Got quite a nice sunburn because I fell asleep for about 4 hours in 100 degree weather. I’m going to seriously pay for that later down the road. I read my Vagabonding book, which I highly recommend to anyone interested in traveling. I decided to start acclimating myself to solo travel, since we’ll separate here in a little over a month. I decided to practice some of my new found wisdom and did a little vagabonding of my own around the city. I didn’t look at a map, I just started walking. I ended up next to some massive cathedral. I paused and brought out my electronic translator to try and find out how to say, “Where’s the grocery store?”

It’s amazing how the unknown and adventure makes you want to absorb the culture all around you. It gets you addicted. I was craving to start a conversation with someone. It’s amazing where a friendly smile and an “Hola” can get you. I walked down a narrow side street by the cathedral and paused to look at this artwork being sold on the sidewalk. He noticed I was admiring it and approached me. I said hello and commented him on the work. He explained to me that it was actually his friends work and his was over there on the other side of the street. I noticed the arwork was done with pastel and water colors and he seemed interested that I knew that. I asked if I could see some of his work, so he pulled me over to his blanket. He had cut up old soda cans to make a uniquely designed ash tray. I said it was very neat and after a while of talking with him I said goodbye and shook his hand. He told me to wait one moment and went to his bag to grab something. He gave me one of his soda ash tray’s and said it was a gift for me.

I ended up walking down many tiny ally ways and into some tiny Muslim areas. There were a ton of little shops with lots of Hooka’s and clothes. People were playing drums and Flamenco guitar in the alley way, and I saw a group of middle aged women Flamenco dancing to it in the street. I ended up at “The Arch” Tapas Bar and had a beer while I wrote in my journal a bit before heading to the internet café.

Later that day, I realized what an idiot I am for not putting on sunscreen. I looked like a foreign lobster. For dinner, Mr. Ryan and I walked to a Kabob shop on our way to meet Nithin, Mike and Aaron at a Flamenco Bar. I asked the guitar player there if he offered guitar lessons when he got down for a break. His name is Windy, and he gave me his number and said to call him when I returned. It is so inspiring to see and hear someone play this type of music. The ups and downs, all the different sounds that are made from one persons hand is amazing.

6.12.06
Took a bus to Madrid. We arrived and walked to our hostel, MAD. They have these weird electronic locks on your doors. You use these wrist watches as a key. When you hold them close to the door locks, they unlock. That night, we went to the hostel bar and started drinking Sangria. I met these two girls, one from Mexico and one from Canada. Kateleena and Anna. The told me all about the places they’ve traveled and gave me some good recommendations on Greece and Romania. Eventually our group randomly vanished, so Aaron and I walked to another hostel called Catz. I met plenty more Australians, Canadians, and Americans here. I was watching, standing outside, and these wasted American college guys were hitting on this group of German girls. I realized that if these guys were acting the way they did on a US college campus, they would probably fit right in, but out here, they appeared rude, ignorant, snobby, hot headed, and completely hammered. I couldn’t believe some of the comments ljkthey were saying to these girls, drunk and stumbling around. They would make American jokes that the girls would never be able to understand, but if they were American girls, those dudes would get slapped. The weird and ironic thing was that the girls appeared to like it! I’ve realized that as long as you’re different, entertaining, and funny, no matter how rude it might seem to me, they’ll find you interesting.

6.13.06
Woke up to the most excruciating sunburn itch of my life. I wanted to put my head through the freaking wall, just to take the pain off my chest. I rubbed aloe, cortison, and took an Asprin and it still didn’t do anything. I had to deal with that for a few hours and just listened to Nine Inch Nails, absorbed in my own misery. Wow that sucked.

I woke up later and walked to gat a Falafel and see some museums. It was closed, but I saw some of the neat architecture of Madrid. We eventually walked by some French soccer hooligans and secretly followed them to whatever bar they were heading to just to get in on the action of the French vs. the Swiss World Cup match. It was really neat sitting in that bar and listening to the Swiss guys chant and swear at the French guys and vice versa. I had a strange thought about my American accent. Being in Europe for a few weeks, I grew a sense of what I must sound like to them. When you’re out of your home environment, somehow you can relflect and hear and see things that you couldn’t before. I can’t really explain it, but Americans sound boring compared to all the other languages. But none the less, I like sounding different that everyone else.

6.14.06
Went to the Chocolateria San Gines for some Churro breakfast…un-freakin believable. They brought out 20 long churros, and you dip them in your own bowl of melted chocolate. Soooo good.

We split up and I ventured out to find an English bookstore. I took the metro for the 1st time by myself. It really wasn’t all that bad, you just had to make sure that the train you were getting on was going the right direction. The bookstore was old and dusty. I had to rummage through books to find an English one. I eventually setteled with Deception Point by Dan Brown.

I headed to my first museum visit of Europe, the Museo del Prado. It has works by Picasso, Goya, Carravagio, Velazques, Rafael, Reniot, Pussin, and many other famous painters. On my way I ran into some political rally in the streets outside the museum. Everyone was wearing green and every now and and then gunshots and cannons fired. I have no idea why. I had to work up the guts to walk across the street and get into the crowd. I eventually did, but couldn’t understand anything. I think it had something to do with the police being corrupt or something. I moved on to the museum.

There was a Picasso exhibition going on, but I decided not to wait in the line because I’ve seen Picasso and I didn’t have much time to spend there. I forgot how amazing some of these paintings are to see in real life and up close. They are simply magnificent. Some of them feel like they jump completely off the canvas at you. Some look dreadful and terrifying. Some spark emotions of something you’ve experienced in your own life. Some draw out fantasy’s and wonderful tales and stories. Some of the colors are so vivid that you question yourself how can there be such a magnificent color?! I spent a lot of time looking around and ended up missing our meeting time at the pub across town to watch the Espania match.

I find it interesting to see and notice how some of the painters drew inspiration from other painters. If you pay close attention, you can actually see similar features, gestures, objects, and even people in the paintings between various artists.

For dinner, Mike, Nithin and I wanted some real nice Spanish food. We went to this place called O’Pulpoa. I had a dinner with a salad, and six mini tapas dishes. I had duck pate paste, pickled sardines, spicy ham, cheese, brushetta, croquettes (cream filled tater tots with ham), and for dessert a bowl of sliced fruits and some kind of liquor.

Mission: Search for Danny Flappan.
We decided to hunt down Mikes little bro after sitting out on the roof of the hostel drinking Rum and Coke. We walked through the city to the hotel he was apparently staying at. Ryan was trying to ask the hotel lobby guys what room Danny was in, but the room was under the teachers name, which we didn’t know. It was quite confusing and we were getting nowhere until these three high school girls walked by. We asked them if they knew some KC guys in the hotel. They just happened to be staying right next door to them. The girls walked up the see if anyone was in the room, came back and told us they must be out somewhere. So the search continued. We pretty much hit every bar in the area looking for Danny. I think that the little amount of food we were eating was getting us drunk much quicker, so eventually Mr. Ryan was being very outgoing. We went to a Pirate bar, a Mexican bar, a Techno Bar and many more. Lossing track of our original mission, we just decided to get crazy and have fun. We ended up at this Kabob place which was delicious. Mr. Ryan was just talking away to all the guys in the place and being very funny. They all tried to guess where he was from. They thought he was from Poland, Switzerland, and France. Ryan finally said that he was Deutche, or German. One guy picked up on this and started talking to Ryan in German! But Ryan’s tactic here was to pre-learn the phrase…I’m not speaking German because I want to practice my Spanish…(in German.) And that’s pretty much all he knows! We were on our way out when the guys asked us where we were from again and Ryan said Berlin. Then the guy just started asking us all these questions in German. Ryan was like…uhhh, asta luego! And then we ran away.

6.15.06
Mike and I left to visit the midievil town of Toledo. It is about an hour South of Madrid by bus. I had no idea what the city was like. We got off the bus and all you could see was a city on the top of a cliff in the middle of the mountainous countryside. The first thing we saw after walking up one side of the massive hill. The city was completely walled in, so you had to walk under a large archway. The arch had this really cool double-headed eagle holding a shield carved into it. This thing was like 20 feet tall. Mike and I had no idea, but we apparently came to visit Toledo on one of the best days of the year to visit, Corpus Cristi. It is a Catholic holiday and this city was the former head of the Catholic Church in Spain for a few hundred years. After we walked through the gates, we went to this kabob shop and got a kabob. I began to unravel my delicious kabob when I heard drums and marching coming from up the road, so I ran up the street to see what was going on. There were soldiers marching down the street along with what seemed to be the entire town! They all got in buses and headed back out through the gate. Mike and I headed upward through very tiny alleyways, until we got a more open area. There were fresh flowers and tapestries hanging all over from the balconies above. People were dressed up in veils and nice clothing. The air was scented with flowers and fresh pine.

Pine leaves were strewn out all over the cobblestone streets. Mike and I could’ve been right in the middle of this celebration if we’d only arrived an hour earlier. But I guess you can’t always get what you want. We had no idea where to go or what to see, so we just walked. As we were walking, I came up to this intersection and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a massive gothic cathedral tower rising up somewhere in the distance. It totally took me by surprise. So I tapped Mike and said lets get over there! We eventually made our way through what seemed like a maze to the cathedral.

Especially with the flower petals and pine all over the walls and ground around it. The tapestries must’ve been hand made by the locals and they were so colorful.
Some had detailed designs and some had the city crest on it. We also visited the Iglesia de los Jesuites church there and climbed up to the bell towers. Now I know the meaning behind the phrase, “Holy Toledo!” The view was breathtaking. The entire city is surrounded by cliffs with a moat encircling it. There are about 4 or 5 bridges gapping the ravine. I highly recommend seeing this city to anyone traveling in Spain. It must’ve been a midievil stronghold in the dark ages. There were armored suits and swords everywhere. After a whole day of just walking around, we headed back to Madrid.

Our last meal in Madrid was at this Jambon (Ham) place, where they literally slice the meat off hanging pig legs right in front of you. Very appetizing. The taste takes a little getting used to, but it was ok. Our bus left at 10:30pm to Algeciras, where we would catch a ferry to Tangiers, Morocco. Uncomfortable bus rides are something that I’ll have to get used to, but I know that the discomforts of travel will pay off in the end.

6.16.06
I am currently writing this entry sitting on the deck of a boat traveling across the Gibralter Strait and I’m staring out at the coast of Africa.

I can’t really discribe the emotion that I’m feeling when I look at such beauty. It means a lot because of my grandmother, who recently passed on, has told me tales of the adventurous land that lies right before me.

I promised her that someday, I would come here and that promise is almost complete. The jagged mountains poke out of the hazy horizon and there is no telling what adventure awaits me there.

Of course, the first thing that happened once we got off was being hounded by taxi drivers. I exchanged my Euros for Durhams at the ATM machine. Just to get an idea, the currency exchange is 8 durhams to 1 euro. A nice taxi driver drove us to the train station and offered to drive us all to our first city Fes (pronounced Fez), but we decided to take the train. I instantly noticed the difference between a 1st and a 3rd World country. Sometimes I wonder what these people do with their social life. Do they have a social life? It sees like most people just walk around or ask you for money. Maybe I’ll find that out later. While in the train station, I found out what it feels like to be a complete outsider. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. I just kept thinking to myself, when I’ve seen a man or woman wearing robes and a veil in the U.S., I would always wonder where they were from. Well, I felt the same in their place. It wasn’t like people werer looking at me and thinking…kill the infidel…but seemed more curious and inviting. The train from Tangiers to Fes was about 6 hours with a stop over in Kacem. During the first ride, we were sitting, but during the second ride we had to stand 2 hours in a narrow isle. At least we got an interesting view of the countryside being so squished up abainst the window. At the train station, I had my first experience with the dreaded “squatty potty.” That’s the hole in the floor they call a toilet. They even have a nice bucket filled with water next to it to wash your ass with your hand…how pleasant. This is a great reason to bring your own toilet paper. I’ve read about some of the scams that people will try on you and even ran across a few of them. Once we arrived to Fes, we practically had to dodge the taxi drivers by running across the street. We walked to some hotel because we didn’t have any reservations anywhere. The first scam is a friendly young person will pretend to be your best friend and help you around in any way possible. They will eventually turn into an informal guide of some sort, and in the end they will demand that you give them money. We ended up walking to about 5 different hotels to compare prices and these so called “guides” were like freaking mosquitos. We eventually settled down at a decent hotel. The last guy said to me if I wanted to buy drugs off him, he has some good shit. I very kindly said no thanks.

It is awesome being able to practice my French because that is the official language here. I am beginning to feel a little depressed and missing home because this place is so different and unfamiliar with my life at home. Off in the distance, I hear a loud voice chanting Arabic over a loud speatker from a mosque. People are prayuing everywhere you go. It is very different. The food I’ve had so far has been excellent though. Both sandwiches contained olives, chicken, and curry…mmm.

I thought the showers in the college dorm rooms and fraternity house were bad, well this one beats all. I took a shower and tried not to touch any of the walls. It is tough to remind yourself to not let any water go in your mouth, even when you brush your teeth because you’ll get really sick. We got ready and took a taxi to the Medina, or the Old City. Now we are getting to see what Fes is really all about. We walked through this massive Arabic archway into the Medina. This is just inside the ancient walls and is a gathering of restaurants, shops, and street vendors. We walked a few shops down and stopped at Le Kasbah,…recommended in Lonely Planet. We were seated all the way on the top floor, rooftop terrace, 4 stories above the bustling Medina streets below.

What a great view. Looking down into the small streets and shops, then over your shoulder behind is an ancient Mosque, towering up into the red African sunset. The scents are overwhelming with burning wood from the fires below, hers and cooking kabob meat. I ordered a mint tea and it was sooo good. It came in a tall glass and is actually stuffed to the top with mint leaves and and stems, then filled with green tea to the top. The first taste just causes an explosion of taste in your mouth…you know that feeling when all your taste buds and nerves go off all at once. It tasted like a strong, sweet spearamint. Best tea I’ve ever had.
For dinner, I had the beef tangine. It is like a roast beef with potatoes, green beans, carrots, olives, and lemon peels all soaked in some kind of broth.

After dinner, we walked down the narrow Medina streets to look around. We must’ve had giant freakin bulls-eyes attached to our foreheads because we were being bugged every 10 seconds. “Do you have an official tour guide?” We decided that the next person who asked us that, we would all make up some language and confuse the hell out of them. I wanted to take some photos, but I didn’t want to risk having a swarm of people rush around me. One guy came up to us and said, “US breakdance, 50 cent, ya?! Aussie Aussie, call me Charlie Brown!” I had no idea what that guy wanted, besides our money. I ended up in this shop speaking French to this guy about a teapot. For my first haggling experience, I’d say I did pretty well. He wanted 120 durhams and I got him down to 60 durhams. I thou8ght it was funny because I pretended to be unsure about buying the kettle, so he gave me a calculator and said, “bon price,” good price. So I entered 12. He looked at me like I was some kind of nut wad. He said 12 would get me this, and pointed to one of the tiny legs of the teapot. Anyway, I had fun with the guy, and even if they seem upset or try to throw guilt on you, they are playing the game as well.

6.17.06
Today we walked around in the Medina again, this time during the day. I never realized how big it is.

It is made up of over 9,000 tiny streets and alleyways. Getting from the main city to the Medina was unbelievably hecktec. Guides were all over us. It actually was difficult to hold back and say, “get the hell away from us.” You really had to resist from punching someone in the face. Through trial and error, I realized by making it clear that “you are not our tour guide, we do not need a tour guide, and I have nothing for you,” seemed to do the trick. Once we got there we began walking down the street maze to somehow find relief from the constant begging and avoiding scams here and there. It was difficult to determine who was truly interested in you and who just wanted to screw you out of your money. After you figure out the technique most of these people used, I’ve figured out how not to be so noticeable.

We came across this small opening in one of the alleys and it turned out to be a hidden mosque. We asked the guy standing there if we could go in and he said only for 10 durham. So we went inside and walked around. It was a relief to get away from the people waiting outside to guide us. The architecture is just amazing. The amount of detail placed into ever square inch of the entire building just boggles my mind. As we left, we asked the guy at the door to take our picture.

We came to a small square opening among the tan sand colored maze. There was a fountain here where people could drink water from. I stopped and just observed people for a while, while the other guys looked at the map on how to get out of here. There was this opening of to one of the sides that was a chair factory. I went over and sat on the top front step and looked inside. There were children working and making chairs. I guess some would consider this child labor, but I think it was ok for them to do in there culture. It is an accepted thing here. There was this boy who was just sitting in a chair looking back at me. He took his fingers and brushed his chin, as if he had a beard and was pondering some question. It took me a minute to figure out that he was making fun of Aaron’s beard. I did it back and pointed to Aaron and he started laughing. He pointed at my camera and wanted me to take a picture of him. So I got one of him standing by one of his chairs. I took my camelback water tube and squeezed it to shoot water at him. He had no idea what it was and probably thought it was magic or something. He would laugh everytime I shot water out of my fingers with the tube. Even the older teenagers behind him were watching and laughing.

We continued on, dodging donkey carts here and there. The streets are so skinny, you pretty much have to exhale your breathe in order not to be squished by the donkey’s and the load their pulling. Children would run up and down the streets at lightning speed every once and a while, playing tag or some kind of game. The alley roof is covered with straw sticks to keep the sun out. Two little girls were following me down a tunnel carrying empty orange juice bottles filled with water. One dropped it and it rolled into the back of my foot. I turned around and said, “Bonjour!” They both giggled and ran away. I turned around about another block down the road and saw their heads peaking out of a side ally looking at me. Of course when they saw that I noticed them, they ran again.

I decided to sit and absorb the environment a little more, so I walked away from the group and went into this open area with about 8 large flat steps that spanned across the area. There were these pot makers banging on large pieces of metal to mold them into shape. I sat next to one guys large pot to eliminate the chance of me getting pick pocketed from that side. I was just writing in my journal, taking in the smells, and thoughts, when this kid on a rusty old bike came wheeling up to me and skidded to a stop right next to my face. He looked at me and said, “Je demande 2 durhams.” Meaning, I demand you give me 2 durhams. I looked at him and said, “demand?!” Then about 8 of his little friends all came over to me. One little girl held out her hand and introduced herself. She must’ve been about 8 years old. I said my name was Ryan, and they all followed after the girl, shook my hand and said their names. One of the little boys, probably about 4 years old actually tried to kiss me on the cheek! I kept laughing and leaning away from him.

The only way I could communicate to them was in French. One of them kept calling the kid on the bike “crazy,” and would do some kind of gesture and twist his hand from his head…kind of similar to our culture where we twirl our finger around our ear. So I played along with them. They asked me where I was from and I told them. Eventually the girl asked me to take a photo of them…I didn’t even have to ask! So I pulled out my camera and they all held hands. None of them were smiling though, so I pushed up my lips into a smile and they all smiled.

The guys making pots must’ve thought they were bothering me, so he yelled something at them and they all ran away. I walked back over to a corner where about 10 of them were standing there selling something. I knew they were selling boxes of gum, but I played dumb. I asked, “What are you selling?” They made a mouth motion telling me it was gum. I know that they had bought a large pack and distributed it through old gum packages, putting about 4 chicklet size pieces of gum in each package. I asked which kind tastes the best. One girl said orange, so I bought the orange. They kept raising the price on me, but I only paid them 2 durham. I took it and opened the box cautiously and paused, asking them, “It’s ok? You’re not lying to me?” They smiled and nodded their heads. I bit off a small piece, waited for a second, and then made a face like it was poisoned and grabbed my throat! They all thought that was hilarious. Then I did something I probably shouldn’t have and started giving the rest of the gum pieces to the kids who sold it to me. Before I know it, I had a swarm of children all around me saying, “Please, please Monsieur,” and held their hands up to grab the candy. I tried to split as many up as I could and didn’t have enough for all the children. An elder man with a cane came pushing through the crowd and said something to the kids that quieted them down. I said, “Merci,” and shook all their hands. It was funny because I would shake one kids hand, and then everyone else wanted to shake my hand. So like twenty little hands flew at me at once. I said, “Au revoir!” and walked off. The children were all so much kinder than the scammers awaiting us in the streets and allyways. It was such a relief to not be bothered by people who are pretending to be my friend. And just because I stopped to take in their culture and absorb made an effort to absorb their environment, I made 20 new little friends.

I met up with the guys and we continued. While everyone was bargaining, a guy approached me while I was leaning against a wall writing in my journal. Usually, I speak in French to keep people guessing where I’m from. So far, I’ve been a writer from Quebec, and a mountain climber from Switzerland, hahaa, I love it. He led us to the Tanneries of Fes (where they tan hides in pools of dye.) I was unsure and cautious at first that this guy wasn’t going to lead us down some alley to be jumped by his friends waiting for us. But every once and a while, it does pay to lend out a little trust. It of course paid off and he lead us to his leather shop, and took us up the stairs and on to the roof. You could see the workers down below standing in these mini pods filled with dye.

It smelled horrible, but it was another rare place to see the whole city from a rooftop. I bought a leather coin purse there to hold all of my extra change.

The streets started to get very busy around dusk. I found it incredible that we were the ONLY white people around. Girls would point at us and giggle as we walked by. Children would laugh and poke me, emulating my actions. More children came up to me somewhere else in the city and one kid was the same from before. He must’ve secretly followed me with a few of his friends. They asked me if they could have my “stylo,” or pen. I got it out and told them that they couldn’t have it, but I asked them to give me their hands. I knew that if I gave it to them, they would probably run off with it. So, instead, I asked what their names were and wrote it on the palms of their hands…even though they probably couldn’t read it because they use a different alphabet than the west. I had to phonetically write it down, but they couldn’t read it anyway. They thought that was so cool and then they ran off to show their other friends.

It got so crowded in the streets that there was almost no place to walk. I felt like such an outsider! We looked totally different than everyone! We took a taxi to the old Royal Palace and the gaurds were nice to let us walk out in front of the large courtyard.

We asked the guards where to watch the US vs Italy football match and they told us to walk into the main city and go to a café.

One thing I learned during my time here in Fes is to completely ignore your first impression of a place. What seemed to be a drab, run down city, full of people who wish to rob you of your money…I found a friendly, warm, and exotic place I never would’ve imagined. Now my eye’s have been opened to it.

We walked into the city and pushed our way to the back of a crowded café, ordered some Mint Tea and watched the game.

Afterwards, we walked to some random street café and had a very filling meal. I think some of the meat was liver and other unkowns, along with chicken and beef. We went back to the hotel to unlock and retrieve our bags, walked to the train station and chilled in the IBIS hotel next to the station. We ordered a bottle of wine, sat out on the back porch by the pool, and played a game of poker.

6.18.06
Well, the overnight train to Marrakech was cold, long, rainy, and uncomfortable. Once again, I’m taking it with a positive note because the discomfort will be outweighed by the experience in the end. We took a taxi to a side street near Dejnaa El-Fna, a massive open square at the heart of Marrakech. We began our hunt to find the cheapest hotel. Yet again, we were being constantly approached and pushed into staying at a place or buying something. We found a good place, after looking at 5 different hotels, near the square and started walking around the city.

I noticed that Marrakech is much more touristy than Fes. The prices for everything are much higher here. If you wander away from Dejnaa El-Fna however, you will find a more non touristy way of life. We briefly walked through across the open grounds, when two monkey trainers practically threw their monkeys on Mike. Nithin and I couldn’t help ourselves and began snapping photos because it was so damn funny.

Mike looked so pissed. The monkey even took his ice cream cone away. They tried to get Mike to pay each of them 200 durham! Mike got pissed and gave them 20 durham each and walked away. I noticed that in the plaza, practically every entertainer is there to scam you for your money, so watch out. Sadly, this is their way of life…ripping people off. The performers have scouts in disguise to see if anyone takes a picture, and then they demand you and hound you to give them money. They have tons of orange juice stands, freshly squeezed and very delicious. We decided to do some sight seeing before hitting the Soukes (all the markets and shops that are connected in a maze of allyways along the outside edges of the square.) We made our way to De Baaj Palace, which was the royal palace in the 1500’s. It is in complete ruins now due to the lack of preservation, but none the less was still cool to see. There were a ton of birds and cranes that took home in the tall walls of the ruins.

I approached these two girls that I overheard speaking English. Sara and Jen were on vacation from the US. Sara is a High School Teacher, and Jen is an Archeologist. We walked to the Tomb of San Bastion, where all the royalty was buried. The tombs were just these triangles sticking out of the ground. There were no markings or death dates. It all just seemed like one large piece of art. The five of us and our two new friends went to some rooftop terrace for some Tangiens and tea. I had another moment here where I mentally took a step back to realize I was so far away from my home, in a place so different, yet I’m still here enjoying myself with my friends and everything is ok. One of the cranes perched on top of a ruin directly across from us triggered this thought. I thought to myself…I’ve never seen this bird before. Against a red sunset and mosques towers rising above the horizon…I’m in Africa! Another reality check that hit me was that the Sahara Desert was just a few hours from here. I once heard that you can fit the entire continental United States inside the Sahara…that’s pretty big.

Later that night, we all met together at the edge of the square to walk among the crowd. There were storytellers, palm readers, musicians, snake charmers, monkey trainers, and food stands… not to mention the pick pockets.

Walking through the food stands reminded me of my days playing little league baseball. When I was standing out in the outfield, swarms of gnats would attack me. I couldn’t out run them because they would just float on over to wherever I moved to. I just had to accept that they are there and let them go about their business. So after dodging all of the chefs hollering and yelling for you to come over to look at their menu, one stand stood out. The guy joked with me, instead of pushing me toward his stand. He asked me if I wanted to try some “Moroccan Whiskey” and I jokingly hesitated and asked him if there were any eyeballs or monkey brains involved with that. He laughed and yelled at the cook to pour me a glass. I told him I had to go because we weren’t ready to eat yet. He said take the glass and finish it, just bring it back later! It was nice to have trust be used on me as a way to draw me to come back. Very clever on his part. It was a very strong gingery tea. I had to take it in sips because it was so strong. We walked to the Souks again to bargain. I noticed that bargaining is even affected by the time of day. At night, they make more money by jacking up the price because rich tourists will buy then. To get a cheaper deal, go in mid afternoon, when it isn’t busy, and they’re all tired. They are more likely to give you a deal than waste time bargaining.

We returned back to the food stand and had a blast. All the cooks at the stand cleared a table for us and clapped because we came back. I gave him the glass back and he said we could have free tea and water all night.

I was feeling a little daring, so I picked the most exotic thing on the menu…Pigeon Pie.

It was not very good, but now I can say…yes, I’ve eaten a Pigeon. After we ate, we all got this great picture of all of us standing up on the food stand with all the cooks.

We all wanted to drink, but for some reason you really can’t find alcohol in Marrakech. One of the cooks actually led us all the way across the plaza and way out of the way to a hotel that had a bar. We said thank you so much, and he went off on his way. So I tried my first Moroccan Beer, Flag. It was pretty good.

6.19.06
Today, I tried to see as much of Marrakech as possible. We walked to this government shop, which is a place people can go to get fair purchases. They all have set prices and there is no bargaining.

Everything here was good quality and was the exact same stuff being sold on the streets, but at third of the price they ask for. I was really interested in the Lamb skin lamps that they made. When you hold them up to the light, they glow beautiful colors. I came across this guy doing Arabic Calligraphy on the side of the steps. I asked him if he could write “Bon Voyage,” or good voyage, inside my journal. I explained to him about how we were world travelers and he said he would do it. I tipped him extra because he went out of his way to write it in my book. He wrote, “Bon Voyage, Marrakech.” Most of the day was spent walking around the Souks again and making purchases.

That night, we kind of split up and a few of us went to find somewhere to sit and chill. We found this roof top terrace a few blocks outside of the square that served Tea and fruit drinks. I had a strawberry shake. Yum. It was such a beautiful scene. There was a large mosque tower that was all lit up orange in the night sky right across the street from us. This once again made me realize where I was. You tend to get lost in your day to day interactions with your friends, and you forget that you’re on the other side of the world. The stars were bursting out of the sky. It was so perfect. We walked back and laid up on the rooftop of Sara and Jens apartment and just stared up at the stars and listened to the sounds of the Muslim city around us. One thing I noticed was that it was dead silent. I was in the middle of one of the largest cities in Morocco, yet I heard no honking cars, no yelling people, just silence and an occasional dog bark. Aaron took off early, so I had to walk home by myself.

Sorry Mom and Dad, I know you’d kill me if you saw the place I had to walk through to get back to my hotel. It was about 2:30am and the allyways were empty and dark. I told myself that if anyone approaches me just keep walking. I played it cool, like I wasn’t a rookie and I knew this city like it was my own back yard. I walked slow and not in a hurry, not to appear like I was scared. I walked by a few people that whispered… Hasheesh… which is a drug similar to Marijuana. That’s how they get your attention while not getting caught by the authorities, which I doubt would do anything to them anyway. I was offered drugs probably about five separate times on my way back. I was eventually approached by this one guy who asked me if I smoked and had a lighter. I couldn’t help him out, but he noticed that I wasn’t from around here. I was really cautious on the information that I gave him. I told him I was from Colorado. A place with a lot of Spanish influence. He eventually figured out I was from the US, and invited me over to his friend to have a drink with him. At this point, I was very cautious. I said I had to go because my friends are waiting for me around the corner. He said don’t worry man, I know you think I’m trying to hurt you but you can consider me your first friend in Morocco. I started to let down my walls a little at a time and walked over to the side of the street where his two friends were sitting. He introduced himself as Ali, and I told him my name was Ryan. People here have a hard time pronouncing my name because they say “R’s” differently. He said… “Ryan, like that movie with Tom Hanks…Saving Private Ryan,” and I said that’s it! He found that really neat and introduced me to his two friends. Ali told me that he is the owner of a restaurant called “The Sahra,” right across the street. I told him that I’d come by tomorrow and say hi. He handed me his drink that he took much pride in. He made it up himself. It was a Lemon Shwepps bottle mixed with Elisa, which is a Moroccan whiskey. I only drank it after he did to make sure it wasn’t drugged. It was really cool to meet these guys, and I am well aware that it was in a dangerous environment, but if you let your walls down every once and a while it can be rewarding. I hung out with them for about another hour, talking about all kinds of stuff. His friend was from some village South of here along the coast and was telling me that they were traveling there tomorrow for some massive African Jazz festival. If we weren’t leaving the next night, I’d would’ve been tempted to go with them. I asked Ali why some women here wear veils over their face, and some don’t. He told me that only the traditional old ladies where the veils. The young generation doesn’t do it because they are becoming more modern like Europe. Before I left, Ali told me that he considered himself “The Prince of Prince Street,” which was the street we were on. So now I can tell my friends that I drank on an empty street corner in a third world country in Africa with the “Prince of Prince Street.”

6.20.06
Today we took a taxi up into the Atlas Mountains, which separates the Moroccan mainland and the Sahara Desert. Our hotel guy set it up with one of his friends who is a taxi driver. We basically agreed to pay 100 durhams each for 6 hours of his time…which in reality, he was making a hell of a lot of money on us. We crunched in the back of the taxi. One person sat in the front and four in the back seat. It was a tight fit.

Once you got out of the city, we were driving on dirt roads. Every so often, we would come across a large hole in the ground that we would drive around. It took about an hour to get to the foothills. Our cab driver was telling us that it is very important that we understand that the mountains belong to the Berber, Native Moroccans, and not Arabs. They take enormous pride in being Berber, pronounced “Bear Bear.” They have their own language called Shi Haa, but not to many speak it anymore.

The mountains were very cool. It was neat to see a mountain range different from my home in Colorado. They were large sharp peaks with red soil and red rocks. There was a river running down the main canyon the road was going up. The people living here had built these thin wrickety bridges out of rope and wood that go over the roaring river below. I saw women and children washing their clothes below in the water.

We stopped at this very small village, with pretty much 2 or 3 houses in it. It was perched right on the edge of this cliff overlooking the valley below. I bought threw bowls from this Berber village. I was taking a photo of all the red ceramic shells piled up on the slide of the hill the house was perched on.

He was sitting up the hill in a little hut and waved to me to come up. He showed me his shop and all of the things he made. I bought them for 30 durhams, which is about 3 Euros.

We stopped and had lunch at this café across the river. I could tell that the taxi driver obviously knew the owner and was giving him business by bringing us here. It was kind of a joke though. They tried to make it seem all exotic by chaining monkeys to a tree by the tables. Our waiter was kind of a jerk too. When we tipped him 10 durhams, he got mad and asked for more! We pretty much said screw that and walked off.

We continued on to a village with a waterfall hike nearby. I found it to be such a large culture clash when you have tourists sporting their flashy cool gear walking through such a remote place. We were walking over the river bridge and children were singing some native song while washing their clothes.

The hike was pretty neat, but it was obviously geared towards getting tourists to buy things. On the way up, there were these fountains with cold drinks stacked up in a pyramid, and vendors selling goods on the side of the trail. Ohh well, it was still a cool experience.

The waterfall wasn’t spectacular, but the culture and the people are what made the trip here.

I walked by a few musicians dressed in robes on the way down which I thought was neat.

The ride back just sucked because it was such a tight fit for two hours. It still baffles me how many people try to rip you off! I’ve probably met about 10 people during our time here that you didn’t have to argue with for money. Even our taxi driver, who agreed that we would pay him 500 durham stopped in the waterfall village and said my friend here who is a guide will take you up to the waterfall. We strongly declared that we pay 500 only and not for both. It just sucks how you have to tell someone about 8 times that you don’t need a freaking guide. We are not complete idiots and can follow a trail to a waterfall.

Anyway, we went back to Marrakech and split up. Ryan and Aaron went to shop, and Nithin, Mike and I went to find some cheap street food. We walked into the most remote, non-touristy place we could find and ended up finding some pretty neat lamps on the street. A guy sitting near us noticed our interest and said to follow him. He led us through a busted door up into an actual lamp workshop above the streets. The smell was overpowering with dyes and paint fumes. Everyone up there must have been higher than a kite. All the workers were very nice and said they would make any color for us, right in front of us. We told him that we would come back because we already bought some, but we would go tell our friends. We never returned, but it was nice to see how the lamps were made.

So back to my exotic food story. Nithin, Mike and I continued wandering the streets for cheap food. We found this lady at a potato stand in the corner of some alleyway serving soup. It was the most delicious soup I´ve had the entire trip.

We headed back to the hotel to meet up. I decided to go and say hi to Ali “the prince” from last night at his restaurant. He brought us up to the very top of his restaurant and sat us down to watch the sun set over the city. We ordered a bunch of crepes since they aren´t that expensive. We finished up, said goodbye and that we´d recommend his restaurant to anyone heading this way. It was time to get ready for another full night and day of travel.

2006-06-10T12:02:00.000-07:00

6.2.06
Yet another night at the pubs. They seem to play a lot of U2 here. Jimmy, Mike and I went to a few, including the famous Temple Bar in the Temple Bar District. We got used to this Irish drinking toast, Salontra, meaning good health. Later on in the night, we went back to our hostel/pub Oliver Gogarty’s for some more drinks and traditional music.

There were a few guys sitting up in the corner playing some amazing music. One guy was playing the Illain Flute, which is kind of like a bagpipe, but he doesn’t need to blow in through a tube. He just uses his arm to squeeze air through the pipes. Obviously there were drunk Irish people all around, but let me tell you those are the best damn drunk dancers I’ve ever seen. While the band was playing, a circle spread open right in the middle of the bar. There were a ton of girls there…I think there were a lot of bachellorette parties AKA “Hen Parties” going on. But one after the other, someone would leap in and just go crazy with their feet. Just like in that play River dance!

These girls really knew what they were doing. Later there was a really old dude who got in there and was spinning all the ladies around with his finger and thumping his feet to the beat. The hostel there was so loud at night. On the way back, we met an Australian guy with the surname DRINKALL… interesting. Since the hostel was right on top of the pub and in the middle of the craziest district in Dublin, you either had to be passed out drunk, or brought some earplugs or you wouldn’t get any sleep. But I slept just fine that night.

6.3.06
Today we left Dublin to see Jimmy’s home in Cork, or Corcaigh in Gaelic. We woke up at 7am to catch an 8am bus. I have a reputation of being slow in the morning, and it certainly held up today. We ended up sprinting for the bus and barely made it. Fortunately, we convinced the bus driver to let us on with only 3 seats left. I’m glad our group didn’t sit together because I ended up next to a beautiful blue eyed, blonde haired Irish girl. Her name is Irene Barry, from a small farming village just north of Cork. She had been studying in Dublin for Textile Design and Interior Design. So we immediately sparked up a conversion about Design…since I’ve been through some similar courses myself. It turns out that she used to work at Sea World, San Diego drawing Henna tattoos on tourists for a few weeks.

I’m starting to get somewhat of an outsider’s perspective on my home country from talking to Irene. For example, I was talking to her about some of the festivals I’ll be traveling to throughout Europe. She had honestly never heard of many of them, which surprised me. I came here assuming that everyone in Europe knew about everything that goes on in Europe. She asked me if I had heard of certain festivals in the US, and I hadn’t. I find that people don’t necessarily pay attention to the things that happen in their own country because they don’t directly apply to them.

We arrived in Cork after a 5 hour bus ride (it’s usually shorter, but our bus made some stops in a few towns), and took a walk to Jimmy’s Pad. Cork is a beautiful and diverse city. It was voted the Cultural Capital of the World in 2005. I couldn’t believe how many hot girls were there, blew my freakin mind away. Anyway, we were walking past pub after pub after pub until we arrived at this piercing/jewelry shop. Jimmy introduced Mike and I to his friend Noeleen, who worked there while going to school. She had just finished exams and graduated with a degree in Graphic Design! She is a very charming girl with pitch-black hair. We all walked back to Jimmy’s to take a shower and get ready for another night of crazy, uncontrolled, wild pub crawling. Believe it or not, Ireland is on of the most expensive places in Europe, so we went to the liquor store…known here as the “Off License”…and bought some Baileys Irish Cream, Jameson Whiskey, and Beamish Stout Beer. If you’re familiar with the ingredients, you probably know what came next. Irish Car Bombs! Note to self: Don’t go around to the pubs at night and ask for an Irish Car Bomb…you’ll get your ass kicked. So, we slammed down a few and headed to Jimmy’s favorite pub An Spailpin Fanac, meaning The Wandering Laborers. This was a little laid back place just across from the Beamish Beer factory. The Beer was so fresh, they could pretty much kick a keg out the front door of the factory and it would roll across the street to the pub. Icy cold, creamy top. I’m a huge fan of stout beers now. We moved on the An Bodhran, which is the name for the Celtic Drums commonly used in “Trad Music,” and met some of Jimmy’s Irish, German, French, Canadian, and American friends. This place was like The Hawk in Lawrence on steroids. Loud music, packed full of drunken college kids from all around the world. You can imagine the interesting conversations that went on in there. We eventually called it a night and stumbled back to Jimmy’s Pad. We had to get at least a little sleep for Blarney Castle the next morning.

6.4.06
Today we headed out to the town of Blarney, about a 30 minute bus ride outside of Cork. I really didn’t know what to expect except a lot of tourists kissing some rock in a wall. The castle blew my mind away.

In the past, I’ve learned so much about medieval castles around Europe in the Dark Ages, but you never learn about the area around them and the town’s that developed afterwards. The Blarney grounds are closed off, so you have to pay about 8 Euros to get in, but it is absolutely worth it. For a little history lesson, the Blarney Stone was found by a King who had a speech impediment. He would kiss it and it cured his speech for a while. The word Blarney means “pleasant talk.” The grounds reminded me of something out of Lord of the Rings. The forest seemed somewhat eerie, but compelling. It called for you to come closer and wander about. This kind of creeped me out a bit because I’ve heard some of the Irish Faerie and Witch Lore. I’ll get to that in a second though. First we walked up to the castle. It had a gently rolling stream with giant trees and foliage gently blowing in the wind all around us…somewhat like the Shire. The castle towered a few hundred feet straight up above the forest. This is when Jimmy tells me that the Blarney Stone is at the very top of that tower and you need to lean over backwards off the side of the tower walls to kiss it. So of course, I’m all for it. We start walking and Jimmy tells us about all the castles secret architectural weapons. The Murder Hole is a small area right when you walk through the entrance of the castle. They usually lock you in there and pour boiling liquids and rocks and spears on the enemies through a hole in the ceiling. As you can imagine, this was not a very fun place to be caught in. Especially when they grinded the Oubliette into action. This genius warfare device was controlled by a latch or lever that was pulled by the defending soldiers at the top of the murder hole. Apparently the floor inside the murder hole completely tilts sideways, dumping the enemy soldiers 80 ft below to a dark, dank, dungeon only to be left for dead. Not fun. Moving on, we eventually got to the top of the castle and admired the view. I was trying to imagine myself standing on that wall a few hundred years ago with a medieval army at its breach. Most people would normally pass this thought off as just a fairy tale, or fiction. This kind of stuff did happen though, and you get a little more sense of what it was like when you’re standing on the edge of a castle. Arrows and giant boulders would be flung at you from the field below. We waited our turn to kiss the Blarney stone. Jimmy said that the two polite Irishman who help you kiss it try to sell you the photos that they take. So Jimmy took the camera and stood right behind the Irish photographer and sneaked a shot of Mike and I kissing the stone.

You would lay down on your back, lean back, pretty much completely upside down and kiss the stone. (I should ad here that when I returned to Cork, Noleen told me that the locals go up there at night and piss all over the it) I was literally being held off the top of a castle by an 80 year old, and very polite, Irishman. It’s quite a view looking down, well… really up, at the 200 foot drop off the castle wall.

Once we hiked down the castle, we wandered off into the mysterious forest around the castle. We came upon this small rock which had a door chiseled out of it and some stares dropping about 20 feet into a cave. This is a magical place called the Wishing Stones. If you are bold and brave enough, you can make a wish at the top and walk down the stone steps backwards and blind without falling. If you make it to the bottom, you’re wish will come true. We all made it of course, Jimmy messed up on the last step and of course he had to do it all over again.

We looked like complete idiots to people walking past us up the stairs, but whatever…we’re lucky now. The next place we walked by was a creepy large stone. I read later that that’s where people used to be executed. So the feeling I got from it was definitely correct. People usually don’t venture to this place because it is haunted. Some of the trees here are very, very old and they looked twisted and scary.

Almost as if they have grown worn and tired of past memories and time. One place we came upon looked like something straight out of a fairy tale. It was a small cave like dwelling under two giant rocks teetering against one another at the pinnacle. A large old tree had winded its roots around the rocks and towered above it. I swore some evil witch must have sacrificed small children inside. We got the hell out of there. It felt like we were in a Blair Witch movie.

On our way out, we realized that we haven’t gone to see the dungeons of the castle. There was an entrance to the dungeons, which was basically a small cave at the base of the cliff the castle was built on. We went inside a few feet and realized that there was absolutely no light! There was no one around, and we weren’t completely sure if we should be in there, so we decided to bust out my bic lighter and move on! It was kind of scary because you couldn’t see anything except a foot in front of you. So the dungeon passage got to be about 3ft by 4ft wide and it just kept going and going.

Eventually my lighter started to run out of fuel, which sucked because the only other way we could see was by using our camera flashes and cell phones to give us some light on where to get out. So we finally come to the end of whatever passage that was and mike flashed the camera. When we looked at the photo he took on his digital screen, we saw that there were writings all over the wall! It was from all the people before us who dared to wander the dungeons under Blarney Castle. When we came out we were all wet and somewhat muddy so all the tourists where wondering where the hell we came from. We told some German guys that they could go back there as long as they have a lighter or something. It would’ve been freakin brilliant to wait back there in the dark until some poor soul comes wandering into that dark room! Would scare the crap out of anyone!

So we returned to Cork and went to get some fish and chips. Now these are like the fish and chips that I usually get from Dewey’s American Grill across the street in Highlands Ranch. Nah…this was REAL fish and chips. A full cod, thrown in the deep fry skin and all, tossed onto a large piece of paper, with a ton of salt and white vinegar poured on it. He just wadded the whole thing up in the paper and handed it to me. Yummm! And Jimmy recommended the Garlic Mayo for the fries. It was so good. Not the best place for a date though because it gets pretty messy eating with your hands.

Went out later that night to the pubs and had a blast. It was Jimmy’s last night in Ireland as well, so he had to say goodbye to all his friends. We were going to jump off the bridge into the Lee River below, but decided that it wasn’t a great idea when we saw a shopping cart glistening on the river bottom. We got the late night munchies and went to the highly recommended Hillbillies American Chicken. Just like KFC, but with a funny name. I went home and packed for our next destination Granada, Spain.

6.5.06
Ok, so I’ll skip a lot here because we traveled on planes the whole day. One from Cork to Dublin, then from Dublin to London, and finally London to Granada. Granada is a city in South Spain tucked away in a very mountainous region. I here you can go snowboarding here, but I decided to pass. It has a lot of Moorish influence in the architecture from when the Moorish people of Morocco conquered the region sometime in the early dark ages after the Roman Empire. It is not a very touristy town, but it does have a large University. So there are plenty of young people to talk to. Unfortunately, there are too many that speak English. The town is incredibly cheap; at least from Dublin’s standard, and they are the only people in Spain who typically give you free Tapas with beer. So we can literally eat dinner while we’re on our nightly binge. Tapas are basically different appetizers that they bring to you when you order a drink. The Tapas you get depends on what kind of beer you order. At some bars, the more you drink, the better your Tapas gets. Anyway, it’s pretty convenient for us young guys because dinner is typically served here around 10:00pm. So the nightlife is bangin!

So, on with the story. Mike and I split a cab with this guy we met, Will, on the plain who is a student in Granada. Our taxi driver was completely insane. The second we all got in the car, he pretty much floored it out of the airport and didn’t slow down until the train station. Mike and I had planned to meet the rest of our group, Nithin, Mr. Ryan, and Aaron, at the train station. We finally get there, alive, and paid the man. This Asian girl approaches me and is speaking in some language that I don’t understand. She was complaining about something on her phone. I wanted to help her out, but I had no idea what she was saying. So out of nowhere, Aaron and Mr. Ryan grab and start running me through the train station telling that I’m being kidnapped and to not look around because you’ll be tainted by Spain. At this point I was just worried about that poor girl outside who I had just ditched. They brought me to some creepy tunnel under one of the train tracks, sat me down with a little video camera aimed at my face, gave me a little piece of paper with some questions on it and told me to read them and answer them into the camera. They told me that they would meet me at some Tapas bar, which I had no idea where it was and ran off. So, I’m sitting alone, in a creepy train tunnel with only a little light to see, talking to myself into Mr. Ryan’s camera. Apparently while I was at home in Denver, the rest of the world trippers group gave personal interviews before they left. Since I didn’t get the chance to do this, they kidnapped me and made me do it as soon as possible because they didn’t want me to be tainted at all by my travel experience. Then they seal up the tape and send it home. None of us have seen any of the interviews. We will watch them when we get back in a year and laugh our asses off.

I eventually found them sitting at a café down the street from the train station eating at a Tapas Bar. Sitting with them was the Asian girl that approached me when I got out of the taxi. They told her to go up and confuse the hell out of me while Aaron and Ryan grabbed me. Nithin was dressed in some ridiculous outfit with a large sombrero-esque hat and a black leather shirt, smoking a cigar. I saw him hiding in the corner reading a newspaper as I was being kidnapped though, so his camouflage didn’t work. We all sat down and talked for a while, then moved on to another Tapas Bar to eat some fried squid. Mmmmmmm. It actually was pretty good. We eventually headed back to the apartment that the other three have been living in for the past few weeks. The apartment was amazing. It is on the sixth floor above a Tapas Bar and has an incredible view of the mountains. We have two separate balconies, our own individual rooms, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small laundry room. After the tour, Mike and I were so exhausted we crashed for the night.

6.6.06
Now that it is light out, I can actually see what Spain is all about. I woke up and went with the guys to the internet café. On the way home we stopped at this local fruit and vegetables seller on the street corner. It was so cheap. Like 1 Euro for a large bag of apples. The fruit was so good because it was grown on a farm about 10 miles from here. Most of the day was kind of a recovery day from travel. Later that night, we went back out for Tapas. Mike, Ryan, and I met Aaron at this hostel called Oasis. They have been hanging out there even though they aren’t living there because the people are so cool to talk to. So we had some drinks and met some Canadians and Americans and Brits. The English bartender new that Mike and I were rooks, so he poured out a shot of Absinthe for Mike, Mr. Ryan and I. It’s that glowing green stuff that apparently makes you see little green faeries, but Ryan informed me that this was weak stuff. Oh ya, another history tip. Vincent Van Gogh was very fond of this drink, especially when painting! That is why a lot of his paintings are so weird and “trippy” looking because he was all doped up on Absinthe. He even decided to proclaim his love to his girlfriend by cutting off one of his ears and giving it to her… He must’ve been listening to the green faeries. Anyway, it was pretty much like liquid fire. Burned a bit, after all it is 70 proof alcohol. So that started the night out very, very fast. We walked down to one of the guy’s favorite bars called Poe. It had really great Tapas. I got a shish kabob. Mike got some kind of Potato Soup. We met some other people and mingled through the streets of the city. The cathedrals were amazing. You’ll just be walking down a thin side street and look up to see this enormous sand colored cathedral towering above you. The neighborhood is literally built right up to the walls. The architecture is very bold and solid looking. The buildings are broad and strong. Every once and a while you’ll walk under some ancient Moorish wall that over the years had been integrated into the modern architecture of apartments and other buildings. It is quite a site.

6.7.06
Today we hit the beach in Malaga, which is an hour bus ride south from here. Malaga is much more of a modern touristy town. We walked all over the place, going into shopping malls, movie theaters, and the beach. The beach was ok. The sand was more like pebbles though. There was quite a nice view there if you know what I mean…So we had had enough of the beach and made our trip home to Granada, washed up and hit the internet café. I eventually made it to the internet café to continue working on my blog site. While I was typing, a Spanish girl came up to me and asked me if I could help her. She was trying to apply for a scholarship to some school in Pennsylvania. So I asked if I could read what she was writing so I could help her out. I went over to her computer station and started to edit her letter to make it sound more formal. She was very appreciative and said I was good at English….hell ya. Once my I stepped down from my high horse, I gave her some advice on writing formal letters in English. She was really cute, I regret asking her if she wanted to hang out later. Oh well, it was nice to get that feeling that your help was needed and useful. Later that night, we bought some Alhombre 40oz´s and drank at home. This was one funny night. We all got pretty wasted, but Mr. Ryan topped us all. He eventually thought he was a bullfighter and used his sombrero hat and a red blanket as a cape to attack Mike (the bull.) Anyway, we got some really funny photos out of that one.

6.8.06
Today Mr. Ryan, Mike and I walked down into the center of the city to see what Granada was all about! We walked all over, seeing the massive cathedrals, the mega shopping centers, and the little side streets.

We stopped every once and a while at a Tapas Bar to drink and get some food. We eventually hit the Alhombre crevas, and walked up this narrow cobble stoned street. There are a ton of hippies here. I don´t really know why, but anyway they are everywhere…and they kind of smell bad. One of them had a pet hawk on his arm, so that´s pretty cool. Makes up for lack of bathing in my book. On our walk home, we really began to notice how attractive Spanish girls are. We decided to try and make some kind of poll where we could determine the ratio of hot Spanish women to average Spanish women. Every few minutes, we would say “now” and count the first ten girls we could see. Then determine the hotness of the group of ten. Example 6 out of 10. After a few of these measurements, we came to the conclusion that 7 out of 10 Spanish women are hot. That´s 70 freakin percent!

6.9.06
The Alhombra is calling.

Nithin, Mike and I woke up really early to avoid the crowds and walked up the mountain to the Alhombra. This is probably one of the largest attractions in all of Spain. This is pretty much the reason why most people even come to Granada. It is a massive Moorish fort perched on a large hilltop at the base of the mountains and right on the edge of the city. The Muslim architecture is amazing. Incredibly detailed and organized.

The form of the architecture is defined by the Koran and its teachings. The gardens were spectacular. They were lush green and scented jasmine floated through the air. The architecture allowed water to flow through the entire garden, which is on the top of a cliff. They even had water flowing down the handrails on the staircases. It was quite amazing to see a place that has inspired people for centuries, including the famous American Author Washington Irving who wrote “Tales of the Alhombra.”

We walked back and took a nap before out late night bar hopping began. I woke up and asked Mr. Ryan to cut my hair. This was the first time he had cut anyones hair and the first time I let someone cut my hair. So this was a very scary process. He did well though and gained my trust that he won´t buzz a bald strip down the center of my head for fun.

We went to a few bars that night. We started out at the Kasbah, which is known for their Flamenco Dancing. The group met down in the basement where the dancers would eventually show up and ordered some Sangria while waiting. Sangria is a wine that is flavored with fruits and spices. We ordered a pitcher and it actually had chunks of fruit and other spices in it. The dancer eventually came down the stairs and the music started. Flamenco Dancing is quite an art form. I noticed the gracefulness of her fingers as she ebbed and flowed them through space.

How she controlled her hair by flinging gracefully around her head and through her fingers. I probably takes tremendous focus and practice to dance that way. She eventually danced over to our table and grabbed Mr. Ryan. He was hesitant at first, but we all pushed him to go up out there. I´ve seen a lot of funny things in my life, and this one is at the top of my list. A tall white American dancing next to a Flamenco Dancer in a muslim bar basement. I believe I saw a little bit of the running man come out of Ryan there for a second.

Anyway, the crowd loved it and everyone was clapping when the song ended. After that we hit the streets again in search for another bar.

The next couple bars were completely empty, but we had fun playing foosball and darts. We ran into a group of American High Schoolers who were looking for a bar to drink at. So we found this Martini Bar on the corner of a pretty busy street. There were lots of Americans there and one cervesa was only one Euro, so Ryan bought us a round. We were approached by two other American girls who wanted to hang out with us. I went back up to the bar and bought a cervesa. There was a different bartender there and she took my 2euro and didn´t give me any change back. She just walked away! I was pissed but I couldn´t say anything because I can´t speak Spanish. So I grabbed Mr. Ryan and told him to ask her how much 1 cervesa was. She looked away, obviously noticing that I new she gypped me, and said 2euros. That bitch! So I went to a different bartender and she gave me a cervesa for the regular price. Ryan was trying to teach me Spanish the whole night. I wanted to say something to the nice bartender…not the evil one… so I practiced enough to where I sounded legible enough. I brought Mr. Ryan up with me and said (in Spanish) “My friend here…Mr. Ryan… doesn´t speak Spanish, so he would like 1 cervesa.” This was funny because she was speaking to Ryan in Spanish a few minutes ago.

After that us guys and the two American girls walked to another Tapas Bar that wouldn´t stop playing 50 Cent and Tupac. We got out of there fast and the girls split to do their own thing. We were eventually just walking down the street watching Mr. Ryan going up to random groups of Spanish girls and asking where some good bars were. We came across this “Irish” Pub called O´neills.

I ordered some kind of Belgian beer which was really good. Nithin and Mike took off so it was just the real men left, i.e. Mr. Ryan and myself. It was about 3am by this point. This girl came up to the bar next to me, and Mr. Ryan leans over me and said to her “Me hombre (me)…es a loco” in a Mexican accent and continued to twirl his finger around his ear. This meant “My friend here is crazy.” Miraculously, this line worked! Anyway, she kissed me on both cheeks. I thought she was coming on to me a little strong, but it turns out she´s French and that´s how they say hello. She has dark brown, semi-curly hair, cinnamon brown eyes, and a soft face with perky cheeks. She had a very eloquent quality to her posture. She totally looked French. Her name is Sophie and she´s from Marseille. I had an interesting conversation with her about how American girls are "easy." She said there is a bar here where they all hang out. They say that you´ll get a free shot if the girls dance on the bar. Oddly enough, we were just at that bar. Anyway, they´ll just play some rap song and the girls will just get freaky on the bar. I could see why she thinks Americans are easy. But she made it clear that American guys were just fine…cha-ching! She was studying in Granada at La Cartuja University for a Translation degree. I told her about my travels and that we were heading to Madrid and Morocco on Monday, but we´ll be back again at the end of the month. She asked if we could hang out again, so I got her digits and told her I´d call when we got back. I felt like an idiot though because when she asked for my number I had to have Mr. Ryan come over and translate my phone for me…idiot! Anyway, Ryan and I cruised out of there cool and casual. Boom!! what an ending for a night.

6.10.06
I did my laundry all today. I was kind of scared to hang my clothes out the window on the clothes line to dry. I didn´t want my boxers blowing of into the wind to some far away place. Spent most of the day at the internet cafe creating my new blog site.

Later that night we went back to O´Neil´s to watch the beginning of the World Cup games in Germany. I texted Sophie to see if she wanted to meet somewhere tonight. She told me to meet her at a fountain at the corner of Gran Capitan and Martinez de la Rosa. I left the guys at O´neil´s and walked to the fountain. She was on her way to her friends birthday party but met me to have a few drinks before hand. She introduced me to Tinto de Verano which is a notch down from Sangria but still very good. It is like a carbonated wine, I think it´s mixed with some kind of pop. We went to some Bar and sat down. We talked about so many things. I asked her about food and she said she likes to cook. I asked what kind of things she likes to make. One thing she mentioned was rabbit. I told her that in my hometown, people would find me a little weird if I caught all of the neighborhood rabbits and cooked them. She asked me if i´ve ever eaten horse. I haven´t but Sophie is pretty fond of it. Apparently it is very tender. You can get horse meat from certain places in France, but not everywhere because it is not completely accepted yet in there society. She wants to go study in England her senior year, (she´s a sophomore now.) She is Catholic like myself, but I noticed a difference in how we thought about the religion. I admire the way she thinks about Catholic Church. She prays every night and goes to church every Sunday. She had a very cool Rosary ring on her finger. It had 10 notches in it and 1 cross. So you could twirl the ring and say your Hail Mary´s. We somehow got on the topic of Scientology and I tried to explain it to her. She asked me if most Americans practice Scientology, and I told her that it was only the Hollywood weirdo´s.

I walked Sophie to an intersection and said goodbye. This point was a little ackward and I noticed that our cultural differences kind of clashed. When I went to say goodbye, I went to hug her and she went for the double cheek kiss. I could tell she was a little weirded out by it. I guess the French don´t hug too often unless you are very good friends or family. It is considered a very intimate thing. In my culture, you wouldn´t think twice about hugging someone. Anyway, I said I´d call her when we got back and then took off the other direction. If I see her again, I want to ask her more about what kind of music she likes and maybe she could come over and teach me how to cook something. But we´ll see what happens.

I really didn´t have any place to go, so I walked around the streets for a while. It was about 2am and I decided to figure out where I was and find my way home. I bought a map from a store and eventually figured out what street I was on. I walked about 20 minutes until I got back to Real de Cartuja, where our apartment is. I walked in to find my roomates playing some kind of Risk card game but they were using chips, fruit, and orange peels as their army playing pieces. It actually worked and began to make sense after a while. Looks like we have a new game to play!

2006-06-10T10:34:00.000-07:00

Read and learn my thoughts, discoveries, experiences, and adventures abroad!