Call me Gypsy...

Oh no! Time to go....

Yes, I'm sitting here in my empty room with my bags packed tightly ready to return to what is obvious to me as the greatest nation to ever grace this lovely planet. Looking back, I made some amazing friends, had an amazing time, absolutely loved Madrid, but look forward to making my way back to a faster paced lifestyle, at times more cordial people, good italian spaghetti and meatballs, my dog, and knowing that I'm truly home.

Before I end with a oh so touching end remark, let me tell you about Pamplona. I'm not entirely sure how to describe it because it was like a spring break party with violence and blood. Oh, and Bulls. The Bulls aren't fed for like a week to make them extra pissed off, and then they spank them with nails on a 4 by 4....well, not really, but they taunt them alot. As Bryce said, these bulls are prolly minding their own business talking about the weather and BAM!, time to go f some people up.

Brent, Whit, Eli (how the hell do you wake up Susana 2 times in a single night is beyond me), Maria, and I took the bus up to Pamplona on Sunday morning. It was a pretty smooth ride, we got there and it was damn coldd. Like I know we're close to France, but that doesn't mean everything has to suck :)

Our hostel room was clean but when we took our first siesta, with 5 people to two beds, it was kinda like sardines in a can. All lines up, in uncomfortable, rigor mortis type positions. We then went to the cheap gas station, got ourselves some sangria, went to town.

Town was...again its difficult to describe this scene. We bought the white outfits with bandanas like everybody else so picture a sea of white and red, drenched in sangria. Like....there were more drunk people than an Amy Winehouse get-together. Oh Snap! (Culturally Sophisticated Reference # 1!). We mapped out our route for where the Brent and Bryce would run and where Tony, Maria, Eli, Whit, and I would watch them die.

Going to bed was a hilarious fiasco as now seven, yes seven people crammed. We gave Tony the patio and Eli and Bryce the floor. I must say, Bryce and Tony, between their bitching and sardonic remarks might have possibly accounted for 1/3 of my laughs this trip. Upon asking them if all football players from Kansas were this witty, Tony retorted: "Dude, most of them can't read...". He just needed to go to patio, he was being cranky.

So here's where the fun begins. 5:30 Wake up. Pitch black, silence...

Bryce: "Is everybody up?"
All minus Tony on Patio: "yup....(sigh)"
Bryce: "I just got this text from my Mom. She didn't even know I was running..."
Text Message: Bryce, You don't have anything to prove. We love you

I think that killed his inspiration to succeed faster than that friggin 0-2 curve from Wainwright to Beltran (CSR # 2!). Of course...he ran.

Pamplona is a pretty city I must say, minus the whords of crap and drunk people passed out. I think Brent told me that he went to go pee behind a dumpster and a man was drunk asleep behind there, so yeah, Brent urinated on a human being. I think I speak for everyone when I say he's a terrible human being and might be making a trip down south. No, not back to Tejas.

So after a single day of partying (there's 7 days of this shit), Pamplona looked more messed up then Britney Spears on a good day (CSR # 3!...Okay I'm done, I've had my kicks). They brought out the civilian cleaning crews in full swing, for apparently no reason. Tony and I saw some guy raking the ground. Like, raking pavment.

We got there at like 7 and the lines around the route were obviously packed. Tony, pissed off from the day before when he got his wallet stolen (I have no idea what is with this continent and petty theft - sometimes I wish there was more violent crimes), got us up close. We still couldn't see, but some nice Spanish guys told us to get a garbage can to stand on. I found one, Whit and I jumped up, had an awesome view. So funny story. The day before, we were going around asking locals who had run for advice. Most of them gave us the look and said "es muyyy peligroso" (Dangerous), and ridiculed us for being foreigners in for a high. Yeah, cuz whoever was the first Pamplona citizen to go "hey, instead of just herding them to the Plaza del Toros...why don't we have them CHASE US!!?!?...THAT'D BE ILLL" was a genius too. But by far, the best line from a local when we asked "Has corrido antes?" (Have you run before?) was:

Nunca he corrido. Nunca haré corrido. Tengo mucho miedo.
Never have I ran. Never will I run. I´m very very scared.

So reassuring.

So la corrida starts when the first gun shot is sounded (bulls let out of gate) and 2nd gun shot is when the bulls are all out. There's 12 bulls in all. 11 of them pissed off. One of them retarded. Makes for an adventure. brent and bryce left us and got prepared, we actually said a prayer for them, and then wanted to see blood from other people. I think the most frightening part of the race it looks like is not the bulls themselves, its the massive stampede of humans, in which you cannot actually see the bulls. Pretty damn frightening. The race was awesome. We saw one guy with an blood side, another with what looked like an ear torn off, and some conscious but stretchered people. Sucks, but hey, what the hell did you expect. I did not, unlike some (cough cough whit) take pictures of people in their most agonizing times.

Brent and Bryce came out victorious, our little warriors they were. Now, as is true with all testosterone driven males...the story devolved rapidly, and of course, as it should. So I'll proceed.

Real Story: Brent ran not too far but not too close, managed to physically slide into the Plaza del Toros, watched some people dive, ran the whole time, was brave, and did not get mauled.

Man Story: Brent was running along the side when all of a sudden Retard Bull came out of nowhere and went to go jab him in the side with his left horn. Brent, using his superhuman strength, broke the horn, stabbed the bull in the eye, and somersaulted backwards onto the Bull, using his grip to break the Bulls skull and liquify the brain. Afterwards, Brent used his firebreathing abilities to roast his kill. True story, no joke dude.

Afterwards, we kinda just killed time, still totally psyched about what we had just witnessed. The ride home was fine, of course, not complete without ANOTHER trip to KFC. What the hell is with charging for ketchup in this country. I thought this was socialism...?

I still can't believe this is my last hour in España. I definitely would recommend the trip and surely have learned some things and opened my eyes. Simultaneously, I would say that some of the best things in life come from home. I'm not homesick by any stretch of the imagination, but I do love my country and would bleed for it. I prefer crappy cold milk to lukewarm beverages, good old cooked meat to withering bacon fit, and overblown patriotism to political scorn. I do love soccer, but give me a team that can make me alive like the Mets, and I'm there. By the way, I think I'm returning home to a Mets team that is above .500. They did it! They don't suck, they're just mediocre!

Spain is a place of history and wonderment and when I get a chance to return, I undoubtedly will. From all the venga ta luegos to the random moments by Banco de España or in Buen Retiro to the singing in the streets to the arguments with street vendors, it has a life of its own and as my señora Susana states, it's not a matter of good or bad, but the difference between one life and the next. Yup, that's one profound Madrileñean flower therapist. Europe, contrary to popular stupid thought, is not a disgusting liberal place, but a continent that has U-turned after centuries of bitter violence, and world wars. Europe has blossomed into a powerful economic conglomerate, each state retaining its history in a way that the US cherishes. Spain is no different. I may disagree with some aspects of their lifestyle, but the people of Spain are by no means backwards, stupid, or Mexicans, and if you treat them that way, well you know precisely why Americans abroad think they have to wear Canadian t-shirts. For one, they don´t. Most countries love Americans and hate our government, and you know what, sometimes they´re justified, sometimes they can go shove it. Regardless, moms acts the same way moms in America do, kids bitch, and fathers think they control the world. We´re culturally worlds apart, but - and Danny this one´s for you - there´s more to them, than meets the eye. First person to name that movie gets an Oreo.

I'd say this blog was certainly a success, and I'll definitely remember these stories. I'd love to meet up with all my friends from here, but realistically, we'll all go our separate paths. Maria, I know you won't change the channel when I'm on TV ;) This has been an incredible vacation where I opened my eyes, developed my character, and revealed myself to well, myself, and it was definitely needed. For a transient period, I became a Spanish speaking, vino gulping, tapas-loving, futbol driven European with friends who were just as goofy and ridiculous as me and with a loss of inhibitions that allowed to me to be a jokester and all, but in the end, I'm a strong willed, politically motivated, English speaking, Coke drinking, Pizza destroying, baseball diehard who hails from the land of the free and the home of the brave: Amurrica. If you didn´t take a lesson out of this blog then that´s okay, I hope you simply enjoyed it. I like to make people laugh and cry, cuz I enjoy doing it too. I laughed a lot this vacation, and feel relaxed as I head into law school. I know it´s a big transition in my life, but I´ll tackle it somehow, and hopefully find my niche. I don´t wanna hate my job, I just wanna be happy, and as crude and corny as it sounds, being happy is a central tenet to our 243 year old declaration.

It's 10.00 AM and time to wake up Eli. I'll take the last metro from Gregorio Marañón to Nuevos Ministerios, then out to Aeropuerto Terminal Cuatro. Maybe on the flight I´ll get a beer, cuz when I return, I lose all my privileges as a cool college student. To everybody left over, que tengan buen viaje, te lo pases bien, y ciao! Echaré de menos España, pero como mi amiga Maria dijo, siempre tendremos nuestras memorias. Adios!