Hitting the midway point

This entry will likely be short as this internet cafe is turning my shirt into a sweaty rag. We've been traveling much of the last couple days as we trained from san sebastian to paris to brussels from the night of July 10 to the morning of July 11. We spent the night in brussels and arrived in amsterdam yesterday morning. No bulls were following us on any of our trains in case they were looking for a second shot at us.


We stayed at an out of the way hotel in Brussels and wish we had a little more time to explore the city. We happened to be in town for Flemish Day so we witnessed quite the outdoor concert outside the Hotel de Ville in the City Center. A Flemish version of Neil Diamond belted out Flemish favorites and the whole crowd danced, drank stella, and ate waffles. Well, we ate waffles and assumed the crowd was dancing and drinking stella as the waffles consumed all of our attention. I will now devote 1 minute of your life to my waffle experience:


We were really excited about this.


Waffles are meant to be eaten with the spork's long lost cousin, the Knork. No word on if there is a Knork specifically designed for left-handed folks.

We got into Amsterdam yesterday morning and the first thing I noticed was that all of the cabs, sedans and vans, are Mercedes. I don't know how that happened, but Amsterdam travelers ride classy.

We ended up having to change hotels because my idiot self booked one way too far away from the city center. We're now settled near Vondelpark close to the Rijksmuseum and Van Gogh Museum. The plethora of delicious junk food throughout the city is really easing the burden on my wallet.

There's still time to do dumber things

We got into Pamplona at about 1am with two other would-be bull runners from the midwest. They were originally from Cincinnati and lambasted the Reds for perennially sucking, Adam Dunn for being terrible (which just isn't true), and me for being from the city whose football team beat their beloved Bengals twice in the Superbowl. We hung out with them at the train station bus stop amidst a crowd of Spanish travelers heading down into the main part of the city. We got to the city proper after having to catch the bus from seemingly the one station that still had buses arriving in the middle of the night.



The carnage was immediately noticeable: people were everywhere singing, drinking, and generally carousing clad in the uniform of white with red scarf and belt. That was the deal apparently; you were supposed to wear all that so you didn't stick out and could show off the wine and dirt stains you were going to get from the night of revelry you were about to live through. We all had white shirts and red scarves except for Travis who, naturally, had marched us through all of San Sebastian in search of a pair of white pants and a red belt as he, "will not do anything half-assedly." He even got his white shirt silk-screened with the logo of his blog. I must also report that my shirt for Pamplona was sponsored by www.reallifeonhold.com.



I quickly grabbed a gigantic beer with our Cincinnati friends. This was the biggest beer I've ever drank in my life. It damn well should have been too since it cost 13 euros.



We then walked into the city first into the Plaza del Toros and then along the route of the bulls. I cannot stress enough how much people were partying. Apparently, when you finished your drink, you just threw it to the side. I've never been to Mardi Gras, but I imagine it would be a lot like this. I was really excited to litter with no repercussions and drank my beer very quickly. It definitely was too crazy to have any more drinks what with the crazed partying folk all around us and the girls to protect, or at least, make sure they don't get clubbed about the head and dragged away.

The running started at 8am and we had to line up at about 6 in order to ensure decent spots. After being mesmorized by the celebration for about 90 minutes, we had about 6 or so hours to kill. We dropped into a few clubs and the girls had their own bulls, in the form of lecherous and drunk Europeans, to run from. Oh yes, I should say that I was persuaded to run, being caught up in the moment and all.


Mas fria.


Yep, we're really doing it.

We gathered in the Plaza at about 6, handed our valuable, earthly possessions to the girls at 7:15 and huddled in the crowd until about 7:50. The one good thing about this crowd was that the body heat from the packed runners kept us warm; a feeling we longed for since we were inside the bars. We were so tightly packed, in fact, that we really couldn't do anything except obey what the herd was going to do.

The herd started moving about 5 minutes before they let the bulls out to run. Apparently, if you enter the stadium before any bulls get there, the crowd throws tomatoes and other fruit at you for being such a wuss. Travis and I found two little doorways to duck inside about 250 meters from the entrance and waited for the bulls.

The first rocket fired and more people ran by us. They didn't let the bulls out until the second rocket. Some people were screaming, others very delighted. Then the second rocket fired. More people ran by and, finally, we heard the hooves coming up the street.



Not really knowing what to expect, I witnessed 3 head charging up the street and several people trying to outrun them right up the middle of the street. I know what I was doing was marginally dumb, but I at least have the sense to realize that I can't outrun a bull. Two guys were obliterated right in front of our eyes. They didn't get gored, mercifully, just knocked to the side. We trotted into the stadium where they let a small bull who has had his horns corked out into the crowd. This is where you can live out your fantasies delusions of being a matador. We decided we had had enough so we hopped over the rail and went back into the city.

We had some delicious churros in the course of trying to get an earlier train back to San Sebastian. We ended up taking a bus back as we would get in 8 hours earlier than if we waited for our train. We got in our room at about 1:30pm and slept, and slept...and slept. We got up at about 8am this morning.

Our room was one of the nicer rooms we've had and would have been the best if not for the bastard of a caretaker who was on duty. This was the same guy who stood over us waiting impatiently for us to drop off our stuff in the hours before we left San Sebastian and, upon closing the door after exiting guesthouse that night, turned off the only light illuminating the stairs down to the street. This guy even peeked into the bathroom after you used it just to make sure, you know, you didn't take a bat to the mirrors or something.

Now, we wait for our train back to Paris and eventually on to Brussels tomorrow morning. The whole running deal was actually not that bad if you knew what you were doing and kept to the side. It's easy to say that obviously; no one thinks that they'll actually be gored by a bull or trampled by the crowd before they do this, then no one would do it. For the sheer amount of people involved, I'd say the actual risk of even minor injury is definitely less than 1% and major injury far less than that. That is, as long as you're not drunk or otherwise incapacitated by a foriegn substance and/or natural stupidity.


Triomphe!

pictures!

Someone had a lot of fun at the Guinness brewery.



Tower!

Versailles and one its of many fountains

Paula of Chez Paula chides us for not speaking French



From the Eiffel Tower



You'd be surprised how good French wine is from a plastic cup

more later when I can steal someone's camera...

One of us will be having a close encounter with el toro

Britain
Ireland
France
Spain

We got into Spain this morning around 10:30 after sleeping on the night train from Paris. I drew the top bunk in a 6 person sleeper and couldn't really shake the fear of rolling over and falling 8 feet; the safety belt was more designed to hold up the middle bunk rather than keeping me alive. This was all after having to almost evacuate the train station in Paris as the cops came in and cordoned off first a small section of the platform and then the entire thing. It took about 10 minutes for the fuzz to clear thankfully. I asked an English-speaking cop what happened and he told me, "We had a problem and that's all I can say," as we walked past a guy getting cuffed by 6 officers prone on the ground. This is terror incident number 2 on our trip so far.

This morning begins an epic attempt to stay up until about 8pm tomorrow night as we'll be leaving from San Sebastian for Pamplona at 11pm this evening in order to catch bull festivities tomorrow morning. Travis has committed himself to running and has drank his one el toro rojo in order to stay ahead of the nasty, nasty bulls and their horns. I have no doubt that he is insane. We're only slightly behind him on the insanity scale at this point for following this closely behind him.

Over the last two days of Paris, we checked off some more mandatory sights on our list such as the Arc d'Triomphe, Cathedral of Notre Dame, and the Palace at Versailles. All were impressive, but none came close to Versailles where we were awestruck at just the palace gardens as we couldn't get into the palace itself since the lines were ridiculously long. Let's just say multiple wedding parties were on hand to take photos on the compound; it's that nice and more.

We also witnessed a guy proposing to his girlfriend in the park surrounding the Eiffel Tower on Thursday night. Of course, she said yes. Cheers went up and two nearby picnicers offered champagne. We immediately remarked that proposing there was too easy as she can't possibly say no; the girls were not amused with our glib appraisal of the situation.

Speaking of other mandatory sights, the Aviation Club was highly profitable. For those of you who don't know, it is a small yet well known casino/cardroom in Paris in which we had to don the James Bond attire to enter. I learned how to say flush in French (colore); which, coincidentally, is a very good poker hand which wins you money.

I´ll try and post some pictures here shortly as the internet connection here is very spotty and I want to make sure this gets up...

We are all embarrassed that we can't speak basic French

Yesterday, while you were undoubtedly consuming beer and hotdogs, we traveled from Dublin to London to Paris. I'm not quite sure of the total mileage traveled, but the whole 3 capitals in one day thing is goofy enough for me to mention. We made it to Paris at about 7pm local time and proceeded to the Eiffel Tower after we negotiated through the metro and arrived at our meager accommodations.

The girls were lethargic all day until we got to the hotel room when, instantly, Paris euphoria overtook them and they became giddy schoolgirls craving crepes, berets, and cheese. Never before in my life have women, given a 15 minute window to get ready, come knocking down our door within 10 minutes, flickering our lights and pounding the wall, eager to leave. Danette almost ran a half block away while we were going down the metro in her crazed, excited, "WOOO PARIS" state.

The Eiffel Tower was neat; someone prepared me for how big it actually is. Think about an entire 2 football fields underneath (only square obviously). Pictures will be up soon enough as I have to wait for certain excited American girls to upload them.

We saw the Louvre this morning and I am still amazed at how spectacular it is. I found the Mona Lisa to be lacking in that it has been reproduced in posters countless times and it is rather small compared to the gigantic oil paintings right outside its display room. It's impossible to describe everything we saw in there as you really do have to see it for yourself to appreciate the entire collection (or all that you can see). We spent the better part of 6 hours there and anyone who has more than a simpleton's understanding and appreciation of art will likely need much more than that.

I must also mention that I can't read French. This is also causing a lack of posted pictures.

I can't wait to put on clean clothes

My laundry is in the washer as I write, I can't tell you how excited I am to finally put on a clean shirt. We've all concluded that the Eurofunk has pervaded our bodies. Some clean clothes will hopefully get rid of it for awhile.

Since I've last wrote, we traveled back to Dublin from Cork and checked out the Guinness factory. Our Europe tourbooks described it as "uninspired" and "all style and no substance...if you want a pint, check out a pub." Those authors should stick those sentences right up their snooty noses. While I've never been on a brewery tour in the US before, I imagine that such tours are lacking compared to the Guinness one. It was definitely worth the E9.50 for two hours of entertainment and the free pint at the end. Plus you even get to drink said pint on the 7th floor of the old brewery which has been converted into a sky lounge with unobstructed views of the city. I would probably pay that just for the pint and the view. O to be a stuffy travel book author.

More after I throw everything in the dryer...

I'm supposed to be eloquent now

We had our first major change of plans as we discovered that it would be much much easier to see the Blarney Stone if we went to Cork instead of Galway. So here I am sitting in an internet cafe that smells like a locker room because 50 guys have been playing World of Warcraft since the morning. It's important that you take in all the sights, sounds, and smells I'm experiencing.

Yesterday, we flew to Dublin on ryanair. If you've taken a ryanair flight already, you have learned to realize that southwest is a luxurious airline. We were able to land seats in the emergency exit rows which saved our knees from being pressed up against our foreheads. The pilot was able to provide us with an hour's worth of entertainment when he informed us after waiting on the tarmac for 20 minutes (in an outrageous french accent of course) that, "As you can see, the plane, it has not moved. We should move soon, yes?" It's no big deal that snacks and drinks, including water, are not free, I can live with that, rather, I appreciate the fact that US discount airliners don't try and sell you company lottery tickets during your flight. To top it off, cheesy advertisements play throughout the flight culminating with orchestral music and canned applause celebrating your touchdown at your destination. My relief was quite sincere.

Dublin is fantastic. Unfortunately, we came in at 9am so our hostel room wasn't ready. Most of the shops were also closed as it was Sunday and nothing opened until noon. We eventually ponied up more money for a private room in the hostel and the weary travelers slept. This postponed the eventual guinness factory tour for Tuesday.



Who drinks Coors Light in Dublin?

After a late-ish night (as you might infer from the above picture), we took the bus for Cork this morning. I'm sure you can imagine all the picturesque scenes of rural Ireland; I was asleep for nearly the whole ride, but the others assure me it was fantastic and you should see it immediately.





Blarney Castle and its surroundings are amazingly beautiful. We hiked up to the top of the castle and contorted ourselves to kiss a little rock in the wall. Kissing the stone is much more difficult than you might think, some disgruntled Irish guy yells, "Next!", and you have to lean over like so:



Kissing the stone supposedly gives you the gift of eloquence. As you know by reading this entry, I must have done something wrong. We think it actually gives you the chance to kiss the 235098125897 people who have kissed it before you and take in their germs.