Travel Interrupted

BlaBla Car is the way to travel around Europe. So much cheaper and more comfortable than the train plus you get to meet locals. So from France to Barcelona I went. I was there just 24 hour--only time enough to walk around and check out the market. There is so much to see and do in Barcelona, what a wonderful place! The French have obviously lost the fashion title to Spain. Once again I found myself wishing I were on a shopping holiday. The next day I caught a ride to Pamplona for Running of the Bulls. I didn't have a room reservation anywhere as every place was either full or outrageously expensive but I figured something would work out. We arrived around 20:00 and Wow!! What a wild and crazy place! A sea of white and red and drunkenness. I found my way to the historic town filled with parades, marching bands, live bands, DJ's and music blasted from the bars. I squeezed my way through the crowded streets, successfully avoiding having sangria spilled all over my clothes, danced in parades, went to two carnivals and soaked it all in. Not having a place to stay I decided it would be best not to drink as I needed to keep my wits and belongings close to me and I didn't want to be any more tired than I already would be if I had to stay up all night, which I did.

The party goes on 24-hours a day during San Fermin. Every night at 23:00 there is a spectacular fireworks display and music is heard all night long. I was surprised at how young a lot of the drunks were--fourteen and fifteen year old kids swaying as they tried to stand still at 3:00 in the morning. It gets cold in Pamplona at night and blazing hot during the day. So around 04:30 I found a nearby hotel and sat in the lobby looking for an affordable place to stay for my second night there. And since I didn't pay for one night anywhere I justified paying $150 for a night would average out a little better. Then at 06:30 I went to get a good spot to watch the running of the bulls which starts at 08:00. I settled on an area near the beginning of the run and managed to see one guy get gored right off the bat. The bulls are fast. very fast. The whole run takes place in less than three minutes. Afterward everyone breaks up, gets breakfast or goes to their hotel rooms to finally get some sleep after a night of partying. I found a beautiful cafe and bought myself a cup of hot chocolate so thick it was like warm pudding. Perfect for dipping my buttery croissant into! In the square outside I found a patch of grass, put my day pack under my head and took a nap. Around 10:30 I felt my skin begin to cook but it was still to early to check into the hotel so I walked to the grocery store and bought myself a picnic lunch. There is a quieter, more secluded tree-lined park with a beautiful view of the city and river below that I had discovered the night before. I laid out my towel and enjoyed a healthy meal of gazpacho, sardines, banana and yogurt. I journaled in my iPad for a bit then decided to lay down in the shade of the trees and rest for a bit until I could leave for the hotel.

I must have fallen asleep because I never heard him come. When I woke about 20 minutes later I sat up and looked for my day pack which wasn't there. A few seconds of disbelief hung over me before it sunk in that everything of value and importance that I owned, along with some of my favorite clothes, had just been stolen. Passport, drivers license, $4000 cash, iPad, iPod and hundreds of dollars worth of other little things. Numb, I stood up and started walking around determined to find that SOB that took my stuff. I still had my stainless steel water bottle and as I walked through all the nearby parks looking for the thief, I resolved to knock him upside the head with it when I finally found the bastard. Unfortunately I never did. Instead I found the police at which point I broke down into tears for the next four hours. Not only is this four months worth of budget but my iPad had over a years worth of journaling that I'll never be able to replicate. Names, places, dates, details...my digital memory. I filed my police report and walked to the hotel. I was shown to my room which had four beds and after explaining to the clerk what happened he offered to let me use his lap top.

During my travels it has become abundantly clear that encounters are never left to chance or coincidence and this day was no exception. The hotel didn't have a proper reception, just some poor guy stuck in a storage room with a computer. So while I was in there, using his lap top trying to reach Clay through FB (although there was nothing he could do, I just needed to hear his voice) a couple young Swedish men came in looking for a room, of which none were available. But they had met a family from Denmark on their way in who said they had more beds than they needed and could share their room. So I quickly finished my message and went up to my floor in an attempt to catch up with them. As they came out of the Danes room I caught them and said that I was in the same situation if they met anybody else that was in need of a bed but I only had the room for one night. And since my day pack had been stolen and I could use the cash. So five minutes later there was a knock on my door and that's how I met Ali and Nico. Swedes aren't known for their warm personality and great sense of humor but Ali and Nico broke that stereotype. I attribute it to the fact that Nicos parents are from Chile and Uruguay and Ali's from Egypt. Irrelevant. They rescued me that weekend.

We were like the Three Musketeers for the next 48 hours. Ali let me freely use his cell phone to connect with the digital world, shared his deodorant with me and made me laugh. We walked around and did some shopping so they could get the finishing touches for their attire-red scarf, belt and white t-shirt-then ate some Spanish Chinese food for dinner, complete with Sangria. In the morning they were going to run with the bulls so this time I went to the end, near the arena, to watch for them. It was definitely more fun watching when I knew people running. It was jam packed and my viewing area was about an 8-inch diameter hole so I didn't see them but they did make it inside the arena. We met up afterward and walked back to the hotel. I listened as they unfolded the detailed events of the run, of their scary and near-dangerous encounters with the huge, horned beasts, how someone in the arena very near them got lifted up by the bulls' horns and smashed down on his head and they watched as his body lay there motionless. It was frightening and exciting at the same time.

We had a noon check out and Ali and Nico had beds with the Danish family if they wanted them so I suggested that I leave and go back to Barcelona. They wouldn't hear of it and futilely checked on line for an affordable room, suggested buying hammocks and there was always the fall back of renting a car just to sleep in but in the end Ali called the Danes and asked if I could also stay there. They were fine with it so we were able to enjoy the rest of the day going on a thrilling carnival ride, eating, drinking sangria and watching the bull fight.

See a Spanish bull fight--check. It was a bucket list item. I'm glad to have experienced it but do not intend to ever attend another one. The six bulls from the morning run were slowly teased and tortured as they bled to death until the final, fatal stabbing by the Matador de Toros. There were three matadors, each of which, in rotation, fought two bulls. The least experienced one was boo-ed both times. Even a novice like myself I could see that he wasn't very good as he repeatedly ran behind the protective wall. They all looked spectacular in their traditional, gilded blue outfits and flowing red capes but only one of the matadors performed beautifully, exactly in the dramatic, poised style that one imagines a matador to perform. It was quite impressive.

In two days we laughed and joked and made a lot of memories. They paid for more than their share of everything which was greatly appreciated since I had only 320 euro on me when I was robbed, with no means to get more, and still had to get back to Barcelona and pay for four nights accommodations there and spend 130 euro for a new passport. They ensured that my bucket list trip to Pamplona was indeed a good time despite the awful circumstances. Once again I was feeling blessed.

Obviously I hadn't taken the weather into account when I was planning my trip. I didn't ever factor 35 degree Celsius weather in my head when I saw myself cycling through France or exploring Spain and Portugal. And anybody that has been following my blog knows that I don't do heat well and I'm not a beach person. I had a few choices: 1) fight the heat and tourists and sweat my way through the Latin countries 2) get a job somewhere or 3) go to cooler countries that I had not intended to visit. I chose option four. A couple weeks after Clay and I parted in Nice, I bought a ticket to Orlando to hang out with him for a couple months. (What better place to escape the heat? LOL!) I wanted to get to know him outside of our magical, too perfect fantasy relationship. Was he really this nice and perfect? Was he worth all this time I was spending on him? I was unable to be present in my travels because he was always in my head and, being the ever impatient one, I had to determine if it was real or just his best foot forward. I was certain he had a dark side and I needed to find it. So after four more days in Barcelona, with a temporary passport and six euro in my pocket I hopped on a plane and headed to Florida.

P.S. Because all my stuff was stolen I couldn't take photos so there aren't any associated with this post. Sorry.