Friday, July 16, 2010

I come from the land of red haired people!

Hola a todos! I hope everyone is having an awesome summer still because I'm having a great summer.

Last weekend was an absolute tiring blast. On Saturday the 10th, two friends and I headed to Pamplona to go run with the bulls. The bus ride was about 5-6 hours there with plenty of beautiful Northern Spain countryside to look at. Our first mission was to find some food after getting off the bus, and we eventually ate some 5 Euro bull sandwiches at some weird restaurant. I felt relieved that I was at least going to eat a bull in the case that I died (but luck and good route planning was on my side). We then went walking around Pamplona looking for interesting things in the 40 degree Celsius weather. Then we randomly sat on a bench and eavesdropped on a conversation between an Australian girl and 7 Frenchmen. We eventually relieved the Australian girl from the fiery love pit of Frenchmen, but not without being kissed on the cheek by a Frenchman (Hint - Don't take pictures of Frenchmen for Frenchmen. They will kiss you on the cheek whether you like it or not). After the Australian was in American hands, we continued walking around Pamplona eventually opting to not go to a bullfight because tickets were about 50 Euros a pop ($75). Our original sleeping plan (of David, Ellen, and I) was to sleep in the park as a group, but the Australian girl (Whom I shall now refer to as Chi, her name) invited us to sleep more securely on the floor in her hotel room. We obliged. Before heading to the hotel, I made sure to scrutinize her story to make sure she wasn't a rapist/Frenchwoman in disguise/murderer/Lover of pop rock. Her story was completely congruent and straight, so we slept on her floor.

At 12:12am, I get a call from America; it's my dad. I couldn't answer it because my cell phone would have exploded in 2 seconds from the costs. Apparently my dad didn't want me to get killed by a nice and friendly bull, but I didn't come to Pamplona to just watch. I came to run. So the next morning, I planned a nice, easy, and safe route where I made sure no bull was going to come, and I did it. I RAN WITH THE BULLS! For more details, must see me in person.

As for the night following the running, Spain was playing in the World Cup against Holland. I of course was a little torn. Should I root for the country I'm in or the country that my heritage is from? Either way, I couldn't lose! I went to watch the game in downtown Madrid at Plaza Cibeles, and then we wandered around watching the game at random bars. When Spain won, the whole city went nuts! Cecilia, David, and I stayed up all night in Madrid singing, walking around, dancing, watching 2 old people have sex in front of the Prado Museum (very tasteful place I must say...), asking prostitutes how much their services would cost (apparently 25 euros for ______), resting on random benches, getting window shows from high school girls, and almost getting caught up in a riot. It was a fun night I'll never forget. For more details, see me in person. Blogs can't express emotions too well.

Oh, and as for the title of this blog, apparently at 5am in Spain I look like an Irishman. The people kept coming around and asking me if I was from Irlanda, and I eventually just said 'yes' to get them to shut up. Oh, the joys of being a Anglo Saxon whiteman - no one knows what country you're from! haha

I've only got 19 more days here in Spain. Here's to the best of them!

Besos.

Nicolás Antonio Canfield

No comments:

Post a Comment