Je Suis Gourmond

Going from the "mucho fiesta" of Barcelona to the "joie de vivre" of the South of France is a whole new culture shock. First of all, after speaking "piquito" Spanish for several weeks, it's very hard to turn "gracias" into "merci" and "si" into "oui". When you think France, you may think Paris, but it's a melting pot similar to any big city and some French culture gets lost in the shuffle. My experience in Provence was very different from that of Paris and it dipped me into the true way of the French people. I stayed with a wonderful family, ate authentic food and had a personal tour of some of the most beautiful places in all of France.

Starting at the train station - where else? - Nicole and I had become such pros at moving around Betty and Godzilla, her large suitcase and mine, respectively. With an occasional hand from a stranger and a keen eye for "asensuer", which is a lift, we were moving around quickly and almost gracefully. I had finally mastered gaining momentum and swiveling, pushing and pulling my beast-of-a-bag. It truly has become a friend, albeit it's a love-hate relationship, on this journey. Off the train in Marseille, we successfully found the big red "M" for Metro and "hopped" on our line to our hotel. We had truly grown from our initial Metro experience, which was so hellacious that we ended up wasting so many euros on taxis to and from anywhere with our luggage. At this point, we had some real confidence and made it perfectly to our hotel. Yes, a "hotel". Alas!

I had forgotten what a television even looked like, but the sight of it was such a wonderful surprise. After drinks and some amazing Indian food, I ended up watching movies "en francais" for hours into the night. We woke up and packed up for the umpteenth time and made our way downstairs to meet up with Frederic, our pal from Paris. He had spent the last 10 days working on a cruise ship and was going to take us with him to his family's home in Cuers, France, a short 1 hour train ride from Marseille. Fred's dad met us at the Toulon train station in his compact Peugeot - a French brand whose symbol is a sideways roaring lion. Fred made introductions and we gave "deux bisous" - double kisses - to our French host Jean-Pierre. Nicole and I would come to call him Robbie D because he was a spitting image for Robert DeNiro. We learned that in France you kiss to the right first, opposite of Spain and involved two kisses less than the Paris standard of 4, which just takes too damn long if you are meeting more than two people at a time.

Arriving at Le Chateua de Beuiller, we realized how special this opportunity truly was. Lost in translation, we had no idea that Fred's parents had an entire guest apartment underneath their house, complete with a kitchen, wash machine, terrace and private bath. We sighed a huge sigh of relief as we realized that our bags were in ONE place for the next 10 full days. We kicked off the first night with the traditional 5 course meal. In France they start with the Appetizers, which is considered a cocktail and light snack, such as olives, bread and dips. The Entree, which in our culture is the main dish, is actually the pre-meal dish including Chauceterie (cured and hung meat), Ratatouille and other cold items. The Main Dish is typically pasta or veggies and meat. AFTER dinner they have cheese...So much cheese. Usually at least 3 different cheeses ranging from stinky and soft to odorless and rock-hard. After cheese, they serve dessert, which on our first night, I prepared a toasted-coconut & ice cream dish. When everyone is stuffed and relaxed, it is time to close it all with a night cap, decaf espresso, infusion, or tea (the, en francais). Nicole and I most often chose the Digestiv Infusion which perfectly soothes the tummy after all of that rich food. Eating dinner with Jean-Pierre, his lovely wife Evelyn and Fred was one of the best things I experienced. We sat with a huge English-French dictionary on the table and often drew pictures on napkins and played charades to decipher the unknown words.

Fred took us to some wonderful places. We spent a lot of time in the Peugeot and Nicole and I took turns sleeping in the backseat. Fred drove us up and down winding, mountain roads and stopped at the perfect places to snap photos. We had picnics on top of mountains, kayaked through the beautiful lake of Verdon, saw some extraordinary country-side, and dove into the southern french culture as if we had been there our whole lives. People mistakenly took us for French when we spit out complete sentences and when we let them know we didn't speak much French, they immediately wanted to know more about where we were from and where we were headed. With Fred as our personal travel translator and cultural liaison, we felt completely at ease and were able to see the nontraditional, non-tourist locations that were more private, more authentic and more beautiful.

Towards the end of our 10 days, we were sad to say goodbye, but were ready to move on to the plans that awaited us in Genova, Italy. Jean-Pierre and Evelyn sent us off with numerous recipes, tiny souvenirs, and an open-invitation to return at anytime. Saying goodbye to them was hard and we knew that we could never begin to show our full appreciation for the time they showed us. Being the gentlemen he is, Fred awoke early and packed up the Peugeot with our bags and saw us all the way on to our train at the station. He stood on the platform and waved goodbye as we waved from the window, just like a typical movie scene. We had made a true friend and knew that we would probably never see him again. Definitely one of the best, yet hardest things about traveling is meeting wonderful people from all over the world that genuinely change your perspective and open your eyes to so many new things. Fred, Evelyn and Jean-Pierre are undoubtedly people who I could never thank enough and will never forget.

Barcelona: aka "Bar-tha-lona"

Finally updating on Barcelona! Since it was 10 full days of sensory overload, I had to really sit down to recall all the tidbits and details. I know that I am still leaving SO much out, but here is what I remember...

Arriving to Barcelona is very much a blur to me at this point. Perhaps because I've waited 10 days to document it, but regardless, I was sick, tired, and it's all pretty fuzzy. I definitely remember arguing with the cabby who drove us from Sant Estacio (our bus station) to Yellow Nest Hostel, the first place we stayed in Barca. He tried to charge us 1euro for each bag we had, including our backpacks, which he did not lift or touch and did not meet the size regulations on the window sticker. He also said "si" when I asked if he took credit cards, but was pissed when I had to go to an ATM to get cash. He first took us to the wrong location where he and Nicole argued in the cab as I walked around looking for our building. He tried to charge us for this mistake, but we stood our ground and although he threw our bags out of his trunk and called us all kinds of dirty spanish names, we got our way and only paid 13euro (an easy 6 less than he was demanding).

At Yellow Nest (my first true hostel) our room was a female dorm with 8 beds. The sheets were free (top sheet too) and they didn't nickel-and-dime us for every little "extra luxury" such as sheets, a locker or pillow. I immediately fell asleep and slept as much as possible. Our hostel offered a pub crawl, starting with fresh-made Mojitos and several free shots at bars for only 10euro. I knew my cold was not going to get any better unless I slept and hydrated, so I showed a semblance of responsibility and chose to sit it out. Our original plan once we got to Barcelona was to meet Nicole's friend, Christian, who was going to allow us to stay with him in Barcelona, but the two of them played Facebook tag too much, forcing us to book another night at the hostel. Our second night was a mixed dorm - meaning male and female occupants- but thankfully on the same floor so we didn't have to move our luggage far. We slept much of the second day, but made it to Font Magic around 7pm in hopes of seeing the fountain in its lighted glory. Unfortunately we never saw it lit up or running because we didn't stay long enough. We walked around and saw the Contemporary Arts Museum and then headed to Poble Espanyol, where there was a ZZ Top concert!! We contemplated paying the 50euro to see the show, but we weren't dressed for a rock concert and were a little too tired to be enthused.

Our next day, feeling better, we moved to Equity Point Hostel, right in the heart of Barcelona. Las Ramblas is the "Champs Elysees of Barcelona" where you can walk with the 3000 other people a day and shop, eat, see cathedrals and museums then end up by the ocean at Port Vell. Port Vell would come to be our favorite spot in Barcelona, where the statue of Columbus points towards Italy, Columbus's home country. The best of all worlds, it offers the beach, fabulous restaurants, shopping and of course stunning architecture. The first day in Barcelona, when things stopped being so fuzzy was our second day at Equity Point when we took the hostel's free walking tour of the city. Adam, our Brit/Aussie tour guide, was very knowledgeable about the city and gave us history on all kinds of wonderful places. We saw Pablo Picasso's neighborhood and school, we saw one of my favorite cathedrals so far (I wish I could recall the name, but has been labeled "The Poor Man's Cathedral"), and we learned a lot about Catalan history, the people of Barcelona who don't feel like they are Spanish for many reasons. We ended the tour and ate tapas, then decided to go out and hit the discotheques. We got all dressed up for a stylish lounge bar on the beach, but then ran into a Fanatic camp coordinator at our hostel bar! It was so cool seeing a fellow Fanatic again! Aussies have definitely become my favorite people. We ended up following him to a hole-in-the-wall pub "L'Ovella Negra", or The Black Sheep. This is a place where we cannot go back and I was physically threatened by the bar owner...whoops!

The following day - please don't ask me if it was a Monday or a Friday because I honestly don't think I could tell you - we hit up the beach. It was my first taste of the Mediterranean Ocean and I will always remember how perfect it was. The waves were ideal size and temperament, allowing us to tread, float and jump with the waves. The sand was the smoothest I've felt beneath my feet. The water is most definitely my element. We took a siesta on our towels, dove in a few times, then headed back to Equity. Back at the hostel, we struggled to take our showers... We had to push the button every 30 seconds to keep the water going and the light is censored outside of the shower, so we had to pry open the finicky shower door and wave our arms around every 30 seconds to trigger the light. It was quite the feat, but showering has been our only link to the comfort of home so we didn't complain too much. Yes, if you know me, you know that I often live off of one shower a week, but in Europe, it has become my security blanket. The water is not always warm, nor strong nor consistent and sometimes you end up in the dark with soap in your eyes, but the water rinses away the dirt and stress of travels like nothing else can.

After two more days in our hostel, we moved again, but this time to Be Hostels Dream - outside of town too much for our liking. Luckily with the Metro, which we have become pros at, the ride is only 30 minutes to Las Ramblas, Sagrada Familia and other important stops. Saturday night in Barcelona was our craziest. We started a pub crawl (a tour of bars offered by club promoters through the hostel and are technically illegal) at an Irish pub and ended up at a discotheque where Nicole and I got separated for close to 3 hours. I stayed with our tour guide and searched the club several times, but after 2 hours, I realized I should head back to the hostel and check for her there. I had these panicked thoughts that she didn't have a metro ticket and most likely did not remember the name of our metro stop - Pep Ventura - or our hotel. Thank God, by the time I took the scariest metro ride back, she had arrived just 5 minutes before I walked into our room. Unable to leave Barcelona, we booked another 2 nights. We had to change rooms both nights... and ended up with more Aussies as roommates. We were very tired of moving our luggage around from place to place, unpacking and repacking every 24 hours, but we rose to the challenge and can laugh about it in retrospect.

In Barcelona I had delicious tapas, even better Paella and the most wonderful impression of the city. It truly is a mecca for all things: beach, party scene, history, scenery, shopping, eating and so much more. Every corner you turn is more and more of something worth seeing. We finally had to say "Adios" as we had plans to meet our French friend, Frederick - the man who invited us to his home in Malakoff for a "barbecue" - in Marseille. We planned on only staying 4 days, but ended up there for 10 because it was an indulgence of culture and food that we fell in love with.

Adios Fanatics, Hola Larrabide!

We made it a point the following morning to book a hotel. We found one guesthouse with availability (maybe one of four total places open). We packed up our bags, hugged our Fanatics friends farewell and climbed in a cab. Our directions from our hotel said to get to Trintxerpe (pronounced Trint-sherpay) BBVA bank and then call for further directions. Our cab driver placed the call, told us to get out and wait for our hotel to pick us up (at least we assumed this is what he was saying as it was all in spanish). With our bags - dubbed Godzille (my bag) and Big Betty Bitch (Nicole's bag), we sat in the square and waited. 15 minutes later, a tiny Euro car pulled up and a man flagged us to come over. Again, going much on faith, we loaded into his tiny car and hoped for the best. He took us up this beautiful mountainside on this narrow winding road and we Oohed and Awed at the view of San Sebastian below. We pulled into Larrabide, not so much a hotel, but a guesthouse or hostel of sorts. It looked so peaceful and serene, especially coming from Camp Igueldo where we had stayed one-too many nights. He kindly helped us unload our bags (this is a rarity in Europe, apparently) and led us inside an old house with barn doors. Inside was our quaint 2 twin bed room, where we set down all of our stuff (Godzilla and Big Betty) then sighed the biggest sigh of relief. We were ready to detox from the hell that was San Fermin.

Joseba, owner and host of Larrabide, spoke English and welcomed us with a cheerful smile and a hint of excitement to show us around. Joseba had a lot to be proud of, starting with his beautiful Spanish wife, Ideola, whose lack of English only added to her charm. We were shown the shared bathroom, the kitchen, and where breakfast would be - "9:30, but if you sleep in, it's ok" - and the finale: the sidre room. Joseba not only runs a guesthouse, but makes wine, sidre (cider) and liquor in his spare time. I saw my first bit of sidre poured - a spicket in a barrell, where you hold your glass several feet away from to create a bubbly substance. You must drink sidre quickly, as it turns black after sitting for 5 minutes. Not only did he offer us that, but he also poured us a pitcher of wine, to sit for 30 minutes and return to drink. We learned later, this was his real passion and what he spends majority of his time doing. Our American friends that we met later in the hostel, each received their personal bottles of sidre to take home with them, although the sidre would never make it home, but instead would end up in our tummies, where it belonged.

After being blown away at the success of our last-minute booking, we decided to wind down with a nap in our first bed since Paris. Here, I take a turn for the worst and end up feverish and miserable for days to come. Waking up, we decided to walk down to the internet cafe at the bottom of the mountain - Joseba does not believe in the politics of Wifi (pronounced "weefee") because in his opinion, it causes cancer in their children's brains like a cell phone. At Cafe Manuela, I made all the necessary internet rounds and then decided to head back up to Larrabide with a touch of a fever. Nicole opted to meet me later and I began my journey up and up. Trintxerpe is a city on a hill, where buildings are surrounded by escalators, elevators and never-ending stairs. Going up is a challenge, but being in a completely different world, awakens the senses and makes you forget that your hamstrings are on fire. Eventually though, the buildings end and being up on a seemingly people-less mountain at dusk, can cause a fright, especially when you realize you must've missed your turn. After backtracking, I finally found my way to Larrabide and made it up the bitch of a final hill (worse than our hill in Newcastle) and collapsed inside. I took the most amazing shower (a 6-point shower) that actually gets hot, where I almost never left. I organized Godzilla and prepared for bed. Nicole, supposed to be home at 10:30, was still nowhere to be seen as of 11pm. Knowing how easy it was to get lost, I asked our American friends Mike and Sean, to go down the hill to find her. She made it back an hour or more later, huffing and puffind, also having been turned around on the dark mountain. At this point my fever was hellacious and was causing me minor hallucinations. I decided to chug as much agua as possible, take some ibuprofen and sleep as much as I could stand, which would be much of the next few days.

In between rests, we joined our Cali friends for some waves at the beach, had tapas (appetizers very common to Spain) and walked the town of San Sebastian. We decided to stay up late drinking sidre and playing cards, a decision I would pay for as I healed slower and slower each day. The next morning we went to the Farmacia and got some medicine (socialized and convenient, although a translator would be nice). We went to the train station in a foolish attempt to book a same-day train out to Barcelona, but after waiting in an hour long queue (or line), we were told the next train was the following day at 4:30. We then walked to the bus station where we booked a bus for the next morning at 8:10. At this point, we have no idea where we are going to stay for the night and based on experience, learned that San Sebastian holds very few last-minute openings. Nicole and I got lost for 3 hours in San Sebastian, but finally made it back to Larrabide...SO MUCH WALKING. We immediately went online to a Google translator to tell our hotel we had no where to stay. They did not have another night available, but we begged to even stay on the couch in the common room. Being the generous soul she was, she told us in so many Spanish words that we could stay in her home on the second floor of the hotel in a spare room: "only to sleep" and this was "an exception". We thanked God, our hostess, and our lucky stars, especially when she didn't charge us an extra night stay!! The room was quaint, cozy and comfortable. The following morning, Joseba drove us ALL the way to our bus station beyond the San Sebastian city center. We gave him 10 euro, to which he smiled big and said "For my children!"

The bus ride was 9 hours and I don't remember a blink of it. Sick to the bone, I used my inflatable pillow, eye-mask and melatonin to catch up on some much-needed winks.

Encierro

First day of the encierro (to lock/shut up) - running of the bulls - we had to be on the bus at 4:30 a.m. to get to Pamps. Clothes still wet and purple from Opening Ceremony, we loaded tiredly into the double decker and slept a wee bit more on the 1+ ride. In the northern part of Spain, it is quite chilly in the morning, and having wet clothes, we were pretty cold and miserable. Separating from our braves friends who intended to actually RUN with the bulls, we made our way to the bull ring, where the run ends. Being there early is important to get a good seat, but we were in the shade and couldn't seem to get our oomph while we waited for the 8am run to start. A quarter till, they began showing highlights on the arena's big screen and also showed pictures of the bulls that were running that morning. Nicole and I finally forced down an early morning beer and felt better so that we could pump up for the event! There are 3 rockets: the first to announce that the corral door has been opened, the second to alert runners that the bulls have left the pen and the final to signal that all the bulls are in the bullring and the run is over. When rocket one went off, two was quickly behind and it took a total of 3 minutes for the 6 bulls and mass of runners to flood into the bullring. It seemed to be a pretty clean run and although one bull fell down, there appeared no major injuries or incidents. The bulls are held in pens until the evening bull fights where they are to be killed :( 6 bulls everyday... Very sad and something I did not watch.

In the bull ring they release 1 young bull at a time with taped horns, and the people in the ring run around and slap their bums, pull their tails and grab their horns (although the latter two are considered taboo and could lead to getting beat up by Spaniards). When the guys (mostly all males) provoke the bulls, they occasionally buck them, charge them or pin them against walls, although we saw no major injuries. Everyone in the crowd roots for the bulls and considers the provokers idiots, although we knew A LOT of those idiots as friends and also hoped no one was seriously hurt. After a few minutes, a neutered steer with a bell around its neck comes out to get the young bulls attention and lead it out of the arena. The crowd applauds as it exits and we all sigh a sigh of relief that no one (and no bull) was harmed. Apparently these young bulls are being trained to run their own run years later and also participate in the bull fight, where they will die. More sad faces....

At the conclusion of the first run, we met up with Barry (no sign of Taylor had me a bit worried) and headed to the bus garage - a warm, but filthy place to sleep while we waited for our bus (scheduled for pick up at 10:30). At this point, we had forgotten what it was like to be clean and only cared about the basic survival needs: food, warmth and sleep. Back at the camp we took long showers and scrubbed the stink off, which was moot prior to the night ahead of us.

Pamplona holds a firework festival after the first run day and we had to be back on the bus by 7pm. This was a crazy night in the town filled with Sangria, small parades, Spanish songs and flashing boobies. After the night, we had an option to stay in Pamplona all night, or get on the shuttle at midnight to go back to camp for only 2 hours before the 4:30 am bus. Nicole got on the bus, but I decided to stay with Taylor and others all night. As the bus pulled away, I immediately regretted that decision! We danced, we partied, we saw a spanish concert, and when the night was over at 4am, we went back to the dirty garage for some sleep. We woke up in time to walk BACK to the bullring (yes, this is a new day, but hard to tell) where we slept through the entire event!!!

We finally made it back to our camp for check out, but since we had no reservations, we were told we could camp another night. Trust me, by this point I had no voice, I was cold, tired and grouchy. I wanted nothing more than a hotel room and was willing to shell out some serious denaro to make it happen. Instead of worrying about that, we headed to the beach for a beautiful and sunny day. I rested and took in the real San Sebastian. The women go topless there and the attitude is so very laid back. PDA is not uncommon, nor is a woman breastfeeding, an old naked man walking the beach, and children sans clothes. I played in the Baltic sea waves which were cold, clear and bigger than expected. The beach is called Surfer's beach and there were plenty of surfers.

We stayed at the Fanatics our final night for an extra 20euro each and had a miserable time. Being sick, I stayed in while Nicole went out one more night with our Fanatics friends. I asked her to tuck me in (basically cover me with layers of my clothes) to the point where I could not move. When she got back she ended up wrapping herself in layers of her own clothes for warmth. We shivered and complained all night, but got through it.

Opening Ceremony, Fanatics Day 2

In Pamplona, during San Fermin (the festival where they give thanks to Saint Fermin, run the bulls through the streets and celebrate with copius amounts of Sangria) everyone wears all white, except for sashes or scarves of red. The scarves are NOT to be worn around your neck until AFTER the Opening Ceremony - - to do so is considered very bad luck. In our Fanatics gear - - our white shirts, red headbands, red scarves and yellow Fanatic sunglasses - - we blended into the sea of white. Luckily we all had Fanatics logos on our shirts to help us find each other through the crowds and mosh pits. We made our way to Dead Man's corner, named because of the sharp corner where the bulls have difficulty turning and often gore or trample the runners. We could not stay for long because it quickly turned into a mosh pit, where people are picked up off their feet and carried through the crowd. Unfortunately we did not leave until we were all soaked with Sangria and doused with cooking flour...Yes, there went our white clothes.

After removing ourselves from Dead Man's corner, we went to a square where we had a mini-siesta on the bench (this is around 10 am) and then started back out into the crazy streets. We went to see the fountain where people climb to the top and jump into the crowd (many people have died here too) and watched people make some insane leaps of faith. Honestly, I could not trust a crowd of drunks to catch me from 40 feet in the air. We later learned one guy had fallen head-first, cracked open his head and broke his collar bone. He was a Fanatic and was lucky to not be paralyzed - - He also ran with the bulls the next morning!! Those crazy Aussies. This area also became a mosh pit, most likely another source of my bruises, so we headed up the street where we saw an incredible percussion line. Taylor (in a speedo and his white shirt) danced the Bernie, the most hysterical dance in the world, based of the movie Weekend at Bernie's, when the dead guy Bernie's head is back and his arms are loose and flailing. Taylor would teach this dance to hundreds of people in Pamps and so many people wanted their picture taken with him. We did not take our cameras into town this day because we knew we would end up covered in sticky Sangria and couldn't risk it destroying them. Opening Ceremony is considered the craziest part of the entire festival and is the biggest party with the most people that I've ever seen.

We all slept on the bus back to camp because not a soul there was sober or had energy. Somehow, though, when we were back at camp, everyone was ready to keep going. This would set the pace for our next 3-4 days of surviving on an hour to two hours of sleep at a time. We ended up playing Kings (like the American King's Cup card, drinking game), but with Aussie rules. This is where we met the most insane of Aussies, and of course, my darling Barry. The best part was the Chicken Goggles game, although I made that name up on my own. So if you get a card (I believe a 6, but now it seems fuzzy), you sing "Fingers in the middle, fiddle with your diddle, goggles on" and basically put your fingers around your eyes like a set of goggles. Then everyone goes around making chicken noises and changing directions of the circles - - similar to the "Drive" part of the American version, but so much more fun.

This would be the night, I'd meet Barry and spend much of my night sitting outside talking and smoking cigarettes (ouch) with him. We hit it off pretty well and I will leave the story at that. We have several funny stories, which I will leave to the imagination. Basically though, he is a gorgeous guy with a super sexy Australian accent. He seemed to think (as most Aussies did) that us Americans had sexy accents. I thought to myself We aren't the ones with accents! They are. But it has become apparent that that is not how languages and accents work at all. Finally over with Day 2 - - we went to bed at 2:30am to wake up at 3:45am to catch our bus into pamps - - it doesn't slow down one bit from here.

From Paris to San Seb - Fanatics Day 1

Our last morning in Paris started rough because we got only an hour of sleep each after seeing the Eiffel Tower light up at 1 am and packing our bags in our hotel. We had to leave our hotel by 5:45a.m. which meant we needed to be up around 5:30 to have enough time to get our huge bags down the four flights of stairs. At this point we realized that all future hotels and hostels MUST have a lift!! Our bags thudded down the dark winding staircase, loud enough to wake the hotel owner - no, they still refused to help with baggage, however he did call us a taxi who drove us to Gare de Montparnasse to catch our train. We grabbed some quick coffees (european coffees are 2-inch tall espresso shots) and a sandwich (everything in Europe is wrapped in a bagguette or bread).

Finally on the train, we realized that Nicole and I were not sitting together, and were actually 5 cars apart. I sat next to an old french couple and their grandaughter who sat drawing pictures and speaking the cutest french. It was a quad-seating where we all faced each other and I could tell I was just as interesting to them as they were to me. They kept asking me to switch seats, but knew NO english so I had to follow the woman's pointing finger and facial expressions to understand. They didn't want their granddaughter to face backwards on the train, so I obliged. I put on my eyemask, turned on my iPod and watched the train depart from Paris in the early morning sun. Next thing I knew I was sawing logs, when Nicole nudged me and said she had an extra seat in her compartment. I went up and spent the rest of the train ride sleeping in her "voit", or car section.

[Some information about where we are headed: About two months ago, when Nicole and I were trying to decide our itinerary, we knew we wanted to see Running with the Bulls, but were finding it expensive and difficult to make reservations anywhere near Pamplona, where the festival is held. I stumbled upon The Fanatics, recommended by a fellow Eurotrip.com user, and immediately put a deposit down after spending 10 minutes on their site. Basically they offer a campsite in San Seb (one hour outside of Pamps) where you can sleep, get bussed into town and hang out with some crazy Aussie sportsfans, although the past few years they've started incorporating Americans and Brits into the mix. We booked 3 nights and 4 days with them which included the Opening Ceremony, 2 mornings of running with the bulls and the bull ring, a night of fireworks and a relaxing final day to sleep in and pack up. We would later learn there was no such thing as "relaxing" on this trip.]

We made it to Irun, where we raced to meet our next train - luckily it departed 15 minutes late, because we had to haul our bags through security, where I was yelled at by a spanish female guard for not moving my bags off the conveyer. I've never seen anyone take something so personally before!! We got on our next train where we met James, aka "Jimmy", an old traveler (probably in his mid to late 60's) who shared his tales of travel for the past few weeks. When we arrived in San Sebastian, we realized that we had no address or directions for how to get to our campsite and no one was able to help us. Jimmy said that he would drive us in his rental car as soon as he got it and we found out where we were going. Since we arrived at 1:30, everyone was on Siesta and nothing was open, so we sat on a bench and waited. My good friend Taylor, who was my best friend in junior high that I had not seen in 5 years, was arriving at 4:30 , headed to our same campsite, and I was banking on him having more details. Thankfully he did. He got off his train, with no expectation of seeing us waiting for him, and I grabbed him with a big hug. (By the way, I shortly remembered that it was my birthday today!) Jimmy had just gotten his rental car at this point and said he could drive us all to our site - there was no way we could pass up a free ride and since Taylor was with us, I felt more comfortable accepting a ride from a stranger. Jimmy took us to the most beautiful site-seeing viewpoints in San Seb since he had been there before and knew where to go. He was a crazy driver and stalled the car at least 20 times. When he finally got us to our site, we realized he was hoping to hang out with us more and asked if he could stay at our camp...Um, no. We told him we had a strict itinerary and reservations had to be made in advance. We thanked him for the ride, but we knew he was disappointed. This became the first laughing matter.

Checking in: Here is where we met Jules for the first time, sitting in the Marquee (big white tent), checking in the newcomers. She was our campsite manager and kept things as organized as possible. We paid for our mattresses and got our tent numbers, then made our way to our new temporary homes. Nicole and I were in tent 28, and Taylor was in 29 nearby. As luck would have it, in tent 27, we would find 2 girls from Flower Mound, Texas, Eurotripping for months at a time, just as we were! After we settled in, we all met at the campsite bar for some cervezas and tapas (I had the most amazing jalapeno balls!) Again, everyone shared their travel stories and talked about where they were headed - - a common theme so far amongst fellow travelers. It is so neat to meet people with the same goals and outlook on traveling as us and it makes us realize we are all different, yet the same.

After "freshening up" we all headed on the bus 16 to head into the historical part of San Seb, to the music bar Tas Tas. We stopped for some quick tapas first: I got most tortilla tapas (my new favorite dish, although now quite sick of it) and Nicole got some crazy seafood stuff, including octopus which totally grossed me out! Now in Tas Tas, the music was playing, we were dancing and we were meeting more and more Fanatics. The whole club sang "Happy Birthday" to me and I got several free drinks. We ended up catching a taxi home, although we wouldn't learn that until the following morning after seeing pictures of us in a cab. We were convinced we had taken the bus 16 back to camp and all of us accepted that as the truth until photos proved otherwise...can you say party too much?

At this point Nicole was ready to head to bed, but Taylor and I hung out in the marquee with camp coordinator Moose and a few others to smoke a bit (sorry folks, it's Europe and Rick Steves does say to "immerse yourself in culture"). When I finally got to the tent, I realized it had flooded and our stuff was sitting in an inch of rain water. Nicole was sleeping and the water hadn't reached her yet, but I quickly tried to get our clothes, cameras, laptops and things out of the water. Sleeping in the tent was miserable! We decided NOT to buy sleeping bags, since we were already hauling too many kilos of luggage each, but would regret this sincerely. I used my towel as a pillow and dressed in the several layers to stay warm without a blanket. I would be bruised by the end of the trip from sleeping on the hard ground, separated by a thin foam mat and layer of tarp. The next morning we would be up by the crack of dawn to make it to Pamps for the Opening Ceremony. The craziness was just about to start...

Pepe le Peu

I am currently taking a rest in the hotel because it has been a BUSY past 2 days en Paris. Saturday (2 Samedi) we woke up and walked Champs Elysees and had our SECOND french hot dog. It was a baguette hollowed out perfectly to slide a ketchup-dipped wienie into (something I will take home to America). We saw Louis Vuitton and other big names on our way to the Arc de Triomphe. We took pictures in front of it but could not manage the 248 steps... Then we made our way over to the Seine River where we turned a corner and saw the beautiful Eiffel Tower for the first time. Our jaws dropped and we both stopped dead in our tracks to awe at it. Being one of the most world-famous monuments it lives up to all of its splendor and beyond as you get closer and closer to it. We had a lunch (salmon and excellent goat cheese with our Kronenburg bier) and talked to a man and his wife from Israel, right beneath the Eiffel Tower. We finally made our way under it and through it to the Parc de Champs de Mars where people sat or lay faced towards the tower and basked in the gorgeous sun. We had our "picnic", which ended up being two stolen napkins from our lunch spot and no food. A guy did come buy and sell us Heineken (2 for 5euro - - not such a good deal, but meh) and then we were joined by 3 Chileans sitting nearby for some champagne and talks of travels and plans. We tried to teach them to play Texas Hold 'Em, but the conversation held more importance and the cards were forgotten quickly. We have some amazing pictures there....

After the Eiffel Tower we went back to the hotel and slept for hours to regain our strength. We got very dolled up (Paris Audrey Hepburn style) and made our way to Place de Vendome where we were looking for a "hot bar". We made our way inside the Ritz (we have high expectations after all), used the incredibly lavish bathroom and talked to the concierge about where to go. He recommended a place, but a local came up and said Hotel Coste was the best (we would later learn it is the most expensive and hip bar in Paris). Le Coste est tres bien. We met very interesting people, although the Parisian who guided us there tried to kiss Nicole - "I want to kees you" (in a slimy french voice) in a hallway (CREEPER!!). Later we met British boys/men who had just cycled their ways from London and had numb asses. One boy was particularly gorgeous to me and was told by another that I "fancy him", which I did. It led to wonderful conversations about the American version of The Office, also his favorite television program. His name was Jim, although his older friend called him "Jimbo". The British accents are by far the sexiest I've heard yet... We exchanged information, said "Au revoir" and then took a taxi back to Malakoff for the night.

Sunday (3 Dimanche) we woke up very late in the afternoon, but we both needed the sleep. We got fixed up and headed to a Chinese restaurant across from our hotel for sustenance. YES, I know you are wondering when the hell we are going to eat some french food!?! We "hopped" on the metro (Line 13, change to the 2) to see Sacre Couer en Montmartre. I have never seen a cathedral before and it was magnificent. The statues and carvings were so intricate and moving...No photos allowed inside as it exploits the church. Apres Sacre Couer we walked through Montmartre on our way to Le Moulin Rouge. Montmartre is a beautiful district and we took in the vibe in front of Moulin Rouge in an overpriced bar (we learned our 2 biers were 17,80euro--OUCH). With the recommendation of a local (I have more about Parisians and their assistance later) we made our way to the metro headed for Bastille and Latin Quarter for a nice nightlife. On our way Nicole mentioned she had to use a restroom and a restauranteur pulled her inside saying he would let us use the toilettes. We were "an exception" to the rule of no tourists in the bathroom. This man is known as Gavin and he was the cousin of the owner at Le Petit Trianon who gave us free champagne and french fries (okay, this is a little french). Gavin said he wanted to show us what all his cousin owned and we turned the corner from our the bar and were cleared by bouncers to follow him in and through a huge entrance to what would turn out to be a rock concert. So random and out-of-nowhere we saw french rock music (I'm not so impressed) and took in the scene. Gavin later said he would take us to Latin Quarter after he showered from work and changed. He continued to call Nicole "my darling" and made goo-goo eyes at her while getting more and more fresh with his hands. We decided to go to his apartment up the street, where we got an amazing view of Sacre Couer. He was very handsy with Nicole and while he stepped in the shower, we grabbed our shoes and RAN!!! We rushed out the door (not easy to open) and went down the lift (little tiny thing) where we left behind our glasses and booked it out the building. Barefoot and giggling we ran through the street, away from Gavin and his plan to pursue Nicole. Next we took the Metro to Bastille and came up the stairs to find more "pursuers" where I said "Arretez!!" and "Laissez-nous tranquile" (stop and leave me alone). I am getting really good at my french and felt very confident with my words, but unfortunately when we left Gavin in a hurry, my french dictionaire was left behind =(

At the Bastille Nicole and I ordered a beer tower and a croque monsieur (inspired by home and the movie It's Complicated"). This was WAY TOO MUCH bier for the two of us and we ended up inviting some cute Parisian boys to join us and help finish. These Parisian boys would show us the heart of Paris as personal tour guides for the rest of the night and into the early morning. Fabiere, Adrienne et Paul were funny, laid back and very helpful. They were ready and willing to keep us company and walk us around Paris. "We walked along the Seine" and watched the sun slowly rise while we exchanged broken languages and talked about anything and everything. They knew exactly where to take us and Paul told me to "close my eyes" until we rounded a corner. When he said that I could look I turned to see the Notre Dame. The biggest, oldest, most beautiful thing that I've ever laid eyes on. In that moment, although I felt so small in front of it, I felt more feelings than I think I could ever try to express. I stood with mouth open and tears slowly forming in my eyes at the wonderful site. Adrienne et Fabe (short for Fabiere) said that it is a site for even them, although they live in Paris, there is no way they could stand there and not marvel at it.

As they headed us back to the metro, they took us the most scenic route, where we saw the Pantheon and beautiful gardens. Before we headed back to the hotel (we are tired and it is early morning), we stopped and had un cafe et croissant at a bistro. (P.S. the word bistro is classy as shit)!!

We are now in serious need for some sleep. We have a long day of travel ahead of us tomorrow and Pamplona/San Sebastian awaiting us!!