The generosity of others gets me to Paris

I usually only run the bulls once during a trip but since I didn't get into the bullring, I decided to take another try at it.  I woke up the two Australian guys in the room next to mine.  They were hesitant the night before about running but by persuasiveness won out.  I needed to get money out of an ATM so grabbed my wallet.  We made the long trek towards Pamplona's City Hall.  I pulled out some money before we made it to the course.  We were running a little late and so there was a huge group of people in line trying to get onto the course.  The police began to close the gates and the crowd charged the gate. I was crushed in a sea of humanity.  I pushed back trying to reclaim some personal space but it was hopeless.  The gates were closed to the course and the crowd began to disperse back into the streets.

By habit, I checked my pocket for my wallet.  It wasn't there.

Come on.  Where is it?  Check the ground.  Check the pockets again.  Look Singh- where is it? I find the guy from the apartment and ask him if he saw anything.  I knew the answer but I asked anyways.  OK. What was in the wallet?  Damn it, I just took out money.  Why didn't I wait till after the run?  Come on. You know better. Pamplona during festival is teaming with pickpockets. What else? Credit cards gone.  Agghhh. My debit card to my main account.  I can't get out money!  OK.  Take it easy.  Should I try to get onto the course?  It is my last chance to run this year.  No.  Be responsible- cancel the cards. You know the pickpocket is rushing to use them.  You need to beat him to the punch. No. What about the run?  OK.  Help the Australians get on the course, it is their only chance.  They will never come back again. You will be back another year.

I gave the Australians some advice on how to sneak onto the course and sent them on their way.  I hopped a bus and went back to the apartment. I pulled out my computer and made my Skype calls to cancel my credit cards.  All of them were canceled before they could be used.  My credit card company later let me know someone tried use the card 30 minutes after they were canceled.   I beat them.  They only got the money.  The hassle now was getting to Paris and getting my new cards.  I have a second debit card that is never in my wallet that has a small amount of money for this type of emergency. 

I kept beating myself up for being so careless as I went back into town to meet everyone who ran that morning.  I have been robbed in Spain before and I should know better.  I have been to over forty countries over twenty years of traveling and only in Spain have I had trouble.  My friends jokingly have said for years that Spain is out to get me.  After seven months of travel, I became too comfortable with traveling and I let down my guard.  It was a good reminder to always stay vigilant in different surroundings.

The group of people I was hanging out with was very generous when they heard about my predicament.  Victor didn't charge me for my last night at his apartment.  Others took care of my meals and drinks for the day and the next morning. 

Pictured: Supporters in my time of need-Christina and Pablo.

An older Irish guy I was hanging out with, Sean, gave me 50 Euros and told me to keep it just in case.  At first I refused.  He then asked if I ever had helped travelers out on the road.  I told him that I had on a number of occasions.  He put the 50 Euro note back in my hand and said, "Then this why you should take it this time.  Plus, I am only going to use it for drinks tonight if it is in my pocket. You might need it down the road."

Pictured: Sam, Tommy and the very generous, Sean.

That night Chubby Checker gave a free concert in the main square.  It was an incredible show.  The next afternoon, I made my way to Paris.  I took a train from Pamplona to a small city at the edge of France.  From there, I was to head to Paris by an overnight train.  When I got to France and was ready to buy my ticket to Paris, I found that I was short 70 Euros.  In the end, I needed Sean's 50 Euro note.  I was explaining my situation to a few other travelers and two older American women gave me 15 Euros and an 18 year old Australian student gave me the last five I needed.  I was on my way to Paris!

Pictured: Australian student donates 5 Euros to help me get my train ticket.

I made it to Paris in time for Bastille Day. Since I met my parents there, I was fine for money until my credit cards were delivered to me. My cards were brought to me by my friend, Michael, who was meeting me in Turkey ten days later.  There is something to be said about karma.

Mini Loco's Last Stand

Pictured: The last photo of Mini Loco taken in Russia.

Mini Loco is gone.  He had a heroic last stand in Pamplona at the Running of the Bulls.  He joined me for my first run and was attached to my traditional red sash.  I don't know if he was excited to attend his first "Bull Running" or not.  I had the sense that he was a little nervous about getting gored by a bull.  As I mentioned in yesterday's post, the bulls surprised us and we were running from the bulls at the same time avoiding the crowds of people that were swarming us.  Somewhere in that mix- Mini Loco and I were separated.  I would like to think that I saw him riding on the back of one of the bulls but I lost sight of them as they turned the corner.   Mini Loco, my friend, we had a good run.  You were by my side for six months of travel.  You actually made it out longer than Patrick, who called it quits on the journey near the end of June.  Travel well, my friend, travel well.

If you have any thoughts on where Mini Loco is now or want to write him a note, just add them to the comment section.  I am sure he is checking the blog on his solo adventure. 

Running with the Bulls

"At noon on Sunday, the sixth of July, the fiesta exploded.  There is no other way to describe it."

"The things that happened could only have happened during a fiesta. Everything became quite unreal finally and it seemed as though nothing could have any consequences. It seemed out of place to think of consequences during the fiesta."
                                                                                                                The Sun Also Rises
                                                                                                                Ernest Hemingway

It is hard to describe my fascination and love for the San Fermin Festival.  I went to my first festival in 2000 with my friend Graham and I made a commitment that if I was ever near Spain during the time of the Festival that I would head there.  This year's festival marked my fourth Running of the Bulls.

The fiestas of San Fermin are celebrated in Pamplona every year from the 6th to the 14th of July. The fiestas are celebrated in honor of San Fermin, the patron saint of the region of Navarre.  The Running of the Bulls happens every morning at 8 am starting on July 7.

The festival is rooted in deep tradition and if one just goes to the Running of the Bulls portion, they miss the rich experience that is San Fermin.  As you walk through the different areas in Pamplona, you can see two different types of festivals occurring concurrently.  One is more geared towards families with concerts, parades, carnival rides and fireworks.  The second is a debaucherous party that cannot be rivaled by any other party in the world.

I arrived in Barcelona from Russia a little after midnight on July 10.  My train to Pamplona was at 7 am so it didn’t make much sense to get a hotel room for a few hours.  I caught up on my sleep on the train and was in Pamplona by the afternoon. During the festival, I stayed with a guy named Victor and his mother. They rent out rooms in their apartment for the tourists who come into town.  There is always a great mix of people there, ranging from college kids looking for a good party to forty year olds looking for a dangerous thrill.

I had a small group of guys that were going for their first run so I became their mentor.  I began to say the same words that were told to me when I ran in 2000 by an experienced runner. 

“Don’t run the course if you have been drinking.”
“You are more likely to get hurt by a fellow runner than by the bulls.”
“Don’t run too fast or too early because you want to enjoy the run.”
“Always stay on the inside of Dead Man’s Curve.”

I always start by the City Hall.  Appropriate- don’t you think?  The first gun goes off at 8:00 am signifying that the gates are open. A few moments later, the second gunshot is heard as it signals that all the bulls are on the course.  Most people when they run the first time are so scared that they immediately start running.  Depending on how fast the bulls are that day, you have a minute or so before you need to start running. 

First gun goes off.  I am with five guys who have decided to listen to my sage advice.

Sam:  Don’t worry guys we can wait for the second gun before we start.
Student: Are you sure?  People are running.
Sam: Don’t worry I have done this before.  You don’t want to be the guy who gets into to the Bullring too early because the spectators there will boo you.

Second gun goes off.  Two guys get the look of fear and sprint off.

Sam: OK. We can start walking we have about a minute before we need to start sprinting.
Student: Everyone is running fast.  Look at their faces.
Sam: Don’t worry.  Hold. Hold. Hold.
Student: Are those the bulls?

I turn around and look for the first time.

Sam:  Ahhhh!!! (Censored word!)  Run! Run!

The bulls were fast and focused and they ran right by us.  There is no greater thrill than feeling them rush by you.  I tried to keep up but they were too fast. They finished the course in 2:38 seconds without injuring any runners that day.  My underestimating their speed that morning meant that we didn’t get to the bullring before they closed the gates. I was hoping to take video once I was in the bullring. Once all the bulls are in the ring and safely corralled, they let out a steer to run amongst the crowd. It is great fun as the crowd moves throughout the stadium trying to avoid the steer.

When I ran the first time in 2000, I was counseled by Jon Hansen on the run and where to meet up with a few of his friends, who have been running with the bulls for over twenty years. He, along with a number of guys who work down at the capital in Lansing, had been going for years.  Since I didn’t make it to the ring, I made my way to Bar Txoco in the main square for the morning’s first beer.  One by one my friends met me there and we relived our experience and shared them with the hundreds of other revelers at the bar.  I reconnected with a few friends from previous years.  The morning party continues till lunch and then it is siesta time.  After siesta, the party continues…

Pictured: Sam and Curly- a long time attendee of the San Fermin Festival.

PS. The Pictures of the bulls were taken by my friend, Devin Fell.

 

Guess what I will be doing today?

Dear Gentle Reader:

I am off to my fourth San Fermin Festival in Pamplona, Spain.  Wish me luck.  I will be back blogging next week when I will catch up with my adventures in Scotland, Austria and Russia.  Have a great weekend.  Sam

Downtime in Malaga, Spain

We took a night bus to Malaga from Barcelona.  It was torturous.  The seats were small and the people in front of me wanted to recline their seats as far as they could.  I did my best to get some sleep but it was off and on.  Once we arrived in town, we looked for a hotel and found a reasonably priced one a few minutes from the bus station.

It was my first time in Malaga but it won’t be last.  It is a great city.  It is known for its beaches, museums and shopping.  For me two out of three isn’t that bad.  We took in the Picasso Museum and the Roman Theater.  Because of its ensemble attractions, Malaga was recently awarded the Cultural Capital for the European Union for 2016.  "Capital of Culture" is a city designated by the European Union for a period of one year during which it is given a chance to highlight the city and its cultural institutions.

I used my time in Malaga to organize most of my summer itinerary and catch up on a few important items.  The most important was catching up with the last three episodes of Lost including the season finale. In the States, you can watch the episodes on ABC’s website but for some reason you are not allowed to watch them out of the country.  Well ABC, I am an American and I need my Lost fix! Luckily, I found a Korean website that had all of season four’s episodes that you could watch for free.  All I have to say is Jeremy Bentham?

I also made arrangements to attend the CIVICUS World Assembly in Glasgow, Scotland for the third week in June.   "CIVICUS is an international alliance dedicated to strengthening citizen action and civil society throughout the world.   CIVICUS seeks to amplify the voices and opinions of ordinary people. It recognizes that for effective and sustainable civic participation to occur, citizens must enjoy rights of free association and be able to engage all sectors of society."

I had met the Secretary General of CIVICUS at the conference I attended in Panama in April.  He mentioned the CIVICUS conference was going to be in Scotland in June.  Coincidently, I was going to be in Scotland during the same time frame so I took it as sign that I needed to attend.  I wasn’t wrong and I will blog about the conference in a week or so. 

The last thing we did in Malaga was to arrange our transportation to Morocco.  We were going to take a bus down to Algerceris, Spain and then a ferry over to Tangier, Morocco.  We had ten days before we needed to meet my friend, Jaime Bellos, in Dublin so we had time to explore Morocco. 

Tensions Run High in Barcelona

After the crazy weekend at the Grand Prix, I spent the last two days in Nice, France holed up in my hostel.  I spent most of the time on my computer.  I used the time to watch a few movies and catch up on the blog. 

Our next big location was Morocco and the city of Barcelona was the natural halfway point.  We arrived in the city a little after 11 pm and worked our way to our hotel. We were going to be in town for a day and a half before we took a night bus to Malaga, Spain.

Patrick and I had been on the road with each other for five months.   We had managed to travel with one another quite well.  We hadn't had a fight and we were able to ignore the small things that might get under other people's skins.  Both of us are pretty laid back and we had managed to work in breaks about every six weeks from each other.

In Barcelona, I began to notice that little things were beginning to annoy me.  It was obvious that Patrick was feeling the same way.  I started to wonder if five months was the breaking point.  We discussed it over a beer and we realized that the real issue was that we were both concerned with money.  Our budget was taking a big hit in Europe.   When I planned the budget for this trip a few years back I didn't foresee how bad the US dollar would be.  I started to realize that I might be heading back to the States sooner than I imagined. Unfortunately, Patrick was in the same position as me but he had to worry about his fiancé as well.  In the end, he decided that he would leave at the end of June.  Europe was killing the budget and stressing us out.  He is hoping to meet me in August for the Olympics.  I give him a 50-50 chance for coming back out.

Barcelona is one of my favorite cities in the world.  I have been there five times and always find new things that reaffirm my love for the city.  Patrick hadn't been there before so I gave him the quick tour of Anton Gaudi sights.  It was a quick trip but I knew that I would be back in July before I went to the Running of the Bulls Festival in Pamplona.