Oh, Spain. You leave me exhausted with all the excitement and long travels. It's been quite the adventure spending time in Madrid and Pamplona... Where to begin.
Afterwards we walked around town with our Aussie friends feeling sick to our stomachs and distraught after all the commotion. We sat down for a while to have some drinks. A man dressed as spider man walked by our table and stood there singing and begging for money. I didn't know if I should laugh, be confused or feel bad for the guy, but I of course filmed a video! We tasted some bull which was a lot like beef stew and pretty good. Talks about the perception of the United States and differences compared to Australia were thought provoking. Gun laws are completely different, much more strict in Australia, which isn't surprising. Some think America has a dangerous reputation because of the gun violence and Obama seems to be a celebrity in other countries.
Some more street walking combined with a karaoke jam session of old songs by Savage Garden, S Club 7 and others helped us pass the time until the bull fights would begin. By this time we had spent the whole day without wifi or contact with the outside world. It was a nice escape considering we were left with no choice. However, we then found a cafeteria in the top floor of a shopping center with air conditioning and wifi. You would have thought we hit a gold mine. The next hour was silent as we updated the world on our crazy morning of seeing the awful goring.
It was time for the bull fights. We purchased the tickets in advance with knowledge that they sold out rather quickly, yet no knowledge of what exactly the fights consisted of. A week before we found out they actually kill the bulls. I still did not know what that would be like, if we would see or how they did it. So everyone crowded in this huge arena with enough sangria for an army to watch. A local Spaniard sat by us and offered some sangria. He got his phone out and used google translate to make up for the things he could not convey in English. He showed us photos of him at a Chicago Bulls game and said it was a dream come true to visit the states and see the Bulls play.
The bull fights started with a beautiful entrance of horses in armor and the matadors dressed in elaborate clothing. The brightly colored capes flowed through the air provoking the bulls to charge. It was almost as if they were dancing together, and that's what I originally thought bull fights were like.
The warm evening of Madrid welcomed us with a rain shower that quickly cooled things down from a day of the sun beating down. The condensation of an ice cold beer tap through the glass enticed us to dodge getting drenched. It was nice to sit down and relax over a beer and some pizza.
We stayed in the most adorable flat in the heart of the city. It was very tiny but everything we needed. Our host was so helpful to give us maps and the inside scoop. With really only one day to spare before our next destination we planned to visit some museums.
As we walked the streets every window had signs reading "Rebajas" and we quickly translated that to SALE! The museums would have to wait because these girls were in shopping mode. ZARA got the best of me. It would be a challenge fitting everything in my bag but I didn't care. I actually left a few pieces of my old clothing behind. Shopping lead to a search for mojitos and discovering a museum with a green bathroom. We didn't actually go in the museum because it wasn't free. But who doesn't love a random photo op?!
The Park del Retiro was beautiful with wide open grass and the most glorious Magnolia tree. Its branches created the perfect spiral ladder for climbing and the blossoms filled the air with an amazing aroma.
We were killing time until the Museo del Prado had free hours. Next thing you know we found ourselves in a botanical garden in the middle of the city. It was the craziest thing and totally worth three euros. It was like an escape from the hustle and bustle of the city, so peaceful and quiet. When we got to the museum we found that the free hours didn't include all of the art which was a bummer.
It was past dinner time so we found a place not far from our flat. They had some of the best empanadas ever and were very friendly. We snapped a photo with our waiter behind the bar. Our time in Madrid was over so soon and we weren't ready for what Pamplona would bring.
Morning came and we made it to the airport to catch a five hour bus ride to Pamlona for the San Fermin, Running of the Bulls, festival. By now we were pretty good at figuring out public transportation. I can't really take credit since Sarah was the leader in that area, but we made a good team! We caught a bus in the right direction unsure of what stop so we ended up walking some and ended up right in front of our place not even knowing it. So we stood there for about five minutes until we realized we weren't crazy and it was there just hidden around the corner.
We checked in to what felt like a penthouse suite with rooms bigger than most of the flats we had been sleeping in. After cleaning up we decided to go into town to find our balcony for the next morning. A band with large drums crammed their way inside the crowded bus and started to play music which instantly sparked some Spanish spirit!
The streets were filled with white and red. Everyone was dancing and drinking sangria. We quickly found our balcony and then joined the festivities. Wandering through the streets random strangers pulled me aside to have a dance and then let me prance along. In a quest to find some food to absorb the booze we ran into an older gentleman who didn't speak much English but insisted on buying us a drink and dancing. If anyone knows me they know how much I love "older" people and in that moment my life felt complete. I hope he felt like he was 25 again and hitting on chicks!
Next came a group of guys who stopped us with large jugs of sangria asking for a photo. The one held a stop sign that had some Spanish words scribbled on it. Sarah went to snap the photo of me with them and next thing you know his lips were on mine. Afterwards Sarah's little Spanish speaking skills commented that the stop sign said something about a kiss. Not until this very moment as I write this using translator did I know the exact translation of "dame un beso zorra." I will let you all translate that because it isn't very kind!
Another group of French guys stopped us. The one asked me to dance. Even when I told him I didn't know what he was saying he just kept speaking French. I realized those four years of French class weren't helping me. I suppose words weren't needed as we shared moments of twirling and spinning that were universal signs of a good time.
With an early morning ahead we ventured back to our hotel. Our 4 a.m. wake up call came way too early and we had no clue what we were about to walk into. People were stumbling all over the place, some passed out in the streets and grass areas. Everything reeked of vomit and there was trash everywhere. A man started peeing right in front of me and then went to shake my hand to say sorry. I must not have been awake yet because for some reason I shook his hand, quickly realized what I was doing and pulled out my sanitizer. We stood around waiting for our balcony host to let us in. I pointed at a guy passed out telling Sarah his buddy was trying to wake him up and what a good friend he was for not leaving. After a few minutes Sarah said, "I'm not sure they're friends." I was playing with my camera settings and snapped a picture; just as the flash went off we noticed the "friend" was pick pocketing the guy passed out. He ran over at us spouting off foreign words in anger and grabbed my camera. I had a good grip on it and Sarah pushed him away. After a few seconds of playing charades we realized he wanted me to delete the photo I accidentally captured of him being a criminal. After a few more yells were exchanged he went on his way. Another group of guys who were beyond drunk didn't know the definition of personal space and wouldn't leave us alone about taking photos with them. All of that and it was only 7 a.m.
We finally made it up to our balcony. Our host made us some coffee and we waited in anticipation with two Aussies who we befriended. The clock ticked and I had my first ever drink out of a real china tea cup raising my pinky in the air. It's the little things in life! Just as the clock struck 8 two gun shots went off and we stood with our cameras waiting. Everything seemed to happen so fast and the adrenaline was pumping. Then a moment of complete shock and horror combined with gasping and screaming took us all by surprise when a bull charged backwards and started goring a Spaniard for 30 seconds. His pants fell down so he kept tripping when he tried to get out of the way. That was the longest, most terrifying 30 seconds I've ever experienced. I never knew what shock felt like until then. It was a complete buzz kill but we were happy to know it wasn't very serious and he would live. I knew gorings happened but I didn't think I would actually see one and for as long as 30 seconds.
We checked in to what felt like a penthouse suite with rooms bigger than most of the flats we had been sleeping in. After cleaning up we decided to go into town to find our balcony for the next morning. A band with large drums crammed their way inside the crowded bus and started to play music which instantly sparked some Spanish spirit!
The streets were filled with white and red. Everyone was dancing and drinking sangria. We quickly found our balcony and then joined the festivities. Wandering through the streets random strangers pulled me aside to have a dance and then let me prance along. In a quest to find some food to absorb the booze we ran into an older gentleman who didn't speak much English but insisted on buying us a drink and dancing. If anyone knows me they know how much I love "older" people and in that moment my life felt complete. I hope he felt like he was 25 again and hitting on chicks!
Next came a group of guys who stopped us with large jugs of sangria asking for a photo. The one held a stop sign that had some Spanish words scribbled on it. Sarah went to snap the photo of me with them and next thing you know his lips were on mine. Afterwards Sarah's little Spanish speaking skills commented that the stop sign said something about a kiss. Not until this very moment as I write this using translator did I know the exact translation of "dame un beso zorra." I will let you all translate that because it isn't very kind!
Another group of French guys stopped us. The one asked me to dance. Even when I told him I didn't know what he was saying he just kept speaking French. I realized those four years of French class weren't helping me. I suppose words weren't needed as we shared moments of twirling and spinning that were universal signs of a good time.
With an early morning ahead we ventured back to our hotel. Our 4 a.m. wake up call came way too early and we had no clue what we were about to walk into. People were stumbling all over the place, some passed out in the streets and grass areas. Everything reeked of vomit and there was trash everywhere. A man started peeing right in front of me and then went to shake my hand to say sorry. I must not have been awake yet because for some reason I shook his hand, quickly realized what I was doing and pulled out my sanitizer. We stood around waiting for our balcony host to let us in. I pointed at a guy passed out telling Sarah his buddy was trying to wake him up and what a good friend he was for not leaving. After a few minutes Sarah said, "I'm not sure they're friends." I was playing with my camera settings and snapped a picture; just as the flash went off we noticed the "friend" was pick pocketing the guy passed out. He ran over at us spouting off foreign words in anger and grabbed my camera. I had a good grip on it and Sarah pushed him away. After a few seconds of playing charades we realized he wanted me to delete the photo I accidentally captured of him being a criminal. After a few more yells were exchanged he went on his way. Another group of guys who were beyond drunk didn't know the definition of personal space and wouldn't leave us alone about taking photos with them. All of that and it was only 7 a.m.
We finally made it up to our balcony. Our host made us some coffee and we waited in anticipation with two Aussies who we befriended. The clock ticked and I had my first ever drink out of a real china tea cup raising my pinky in the air. It's the little things in life! Just as the clock struck 8 two gun shots went off and we stood with our cameras waiting. Everything seemed to happen so fast and the adrenaline was pumping. Then a moment of complete shock and horror combined with gasping and screaming took us all by surprise when a bull charged backwards and started goring a Spaniard for 30 seconds. His pants fell down so he kept tripping when he tried to get out of the way. That was the longest, most terrifying 30 seconds I've ever experienced. I never knew what shock felt like until then. It was a complete buzz kill but we were happy to know it wasn't very serious and he would live. I knew gorings happened but I didn't think I would actually see one and for as long as 30 seconds.
Afterwards we walked around town with our Aussie friends feeling sick to our stomachs and distraught after all the commotion. We sat down for a while to have some drinks. A man dressed as spider man walked by our table and stood there singing and begging for money. I didn't know if I should laugh, be confused or feel bad for the guy, but I of course filmed a video! We tasted some bull which was a lot like beef stew and pretty good. Talks about the perception of the United States and differences compared to Australia were thought provoking. Gun laws are completely different, much more strict in Australia, which isn't surprising. Some think America has a dangerous reputation because of the gun violence and Obama seems to be a celebrity in other countries.
Some more street walking combined with a karaoke jam session of old songs by Savage Garden, S Club 7 and others helped us pass the time until the bull fights would begin. By this time we had spent the whole day without wifi or contact with the outside world. It was a nice escape considering we were left with no choice. However, we then found a cafeteria in the top floor of a shopping center with air conditioning and wifi. You would have thought we hit a gold mine. The next hour was silent as we updated the world on our crazy morning of seeing the awful goring.
It was time for the bull fights. We purchased the tickets in advance with knowledge that they sold out rather quickly, yet no knowledge of what exactly the fights consisted of. A week before we found out they actually kill the bulls. I still did not know what that would be like, if we would see or how they did it. So everyone crowded in this huge arena with enough sangria for an army to watch. A local Spaniard sat by us and offered some sangria. He got his phone out and used google translate to make up for the things he could not convey in English. He showed us photos of him at a Chicago Bulls game and said it was a dream come true to visit the states and see the Bulls play.
The bull fights started with a beautiful entrance of horses in armor and the matadors dressed in elaborate clothing. The brightly colored capes flowed through the air provoking the bulls to charge. It was almost as if they were dancing together, and that's what I originally thought bull fights were like.
Next thing you know they started to weaken and tire the bull with lances and short spears with barbs which are thrust into and then hang from the bull. Then came the blood and my tears. I closed my eyes the rest of the time and refused to watch the final stab that took the bull's life for the horses to then drag out of the arena. I cried and the locals chuckled telling me it was okay. There was noway we could sit through five more fights so we counted our losses and left. It seemed so inhumane. Sarah and I talked about how some of the other meats we eat aren't treated much better so how could we pick and choose what was right or wrong. We just happened to experience first hand how sad it was to watch this bull die even if the meat was given to local restaurants in honor of the San Fermin Festival. In a hurry to forget this gut wrenching reality we decided to just go shopping since that is a cure for everything. The shopping combined with a very long walk home and stop at a grocery for dinner left us worn out. The next 48 hours were spent on a bus, sleeping in airports, several flights and long layovers until I finally made it back to the states. And that's when my European Adventure came to an end.
WOW, awesome is all I can say. Lauren, you look like a million bucks. Glad you're have a great time.
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