España

Gernika was a very culturally interesting city to walk around. I learned that it is for all intensive purposes the center of the Basque independence movement. I heard the most Basque being spoken and saw the most anti-Spain protests and signs. As far as spending time there it wasn't actually very exciting and the tour of the General Assembly was dreadfully boring. Luckily we don't spend an excessive amount of time there - just enough time to walk around and pictures.

Paint-Spattered Sign in Gernika

Support Signs for the Basque Independence Movement

Grafitti in Gernika

After Gernika we traveled to Mundaka, a beach not too far off on the Northern Coast of Spain. This was an absolutely gorgeous couple of hours. If you had walked around the city and somehow managed to not run into the beach (a pretty difficult task) you would have thought that the place was deserted. The entire population of this small fishing town had made its way down to the piers and beaches, having been cooped up for a few days thanks to bad weather. Music was being played, contests were being held, and everyone was just hanging out having a good time.

Beach in Mundaka

Beach in Mundaka

Last week I checked something off my bucket list that I'm sure is on many peoples' bucket lists all over the world. I attended and watched (but did not participate in) the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain. It was without a doubt one of the most culturally different and interesting things I've ever seen in my life.

The day began at 4:15am in Bilbao because the bus leaving for Pamplona left at 4:50am. Pamplona is about 2 hours Southeast of Bilbao and we had to leave this early because the running is held every morning for a week at 8:00am sharp. I remember absolutely nothing about the bus ride, having passed out the second I sat down, but I can and always will be able to vividly recall my first steps off the bus. The first thing that you notice, and trust me you notice it immediately, is the smell. The first smell and certainly the most overpowering is that of urine and other bodily functions. Even though it was the first day of the running, traditionally the three days leading up to the start are pure, unadulterated, 24/7 partying. When thousands of men gather, drink, and party, they simply aren't going to go inside and find a toilet when they have to go. It reminds me of when our neighbors wash their cars and because we live on a hill, the excess water runs down the gutter towards the drain. Well... you get the picture. As we made our way to the stadium to watch the running, there would be a line of guys all the way down one wall writing their names as coherently as they could. The next sensory perception you focus on is sight. The first thing you notice is the overwhelming amount of trash everywhere - the gutters, sidewalks, trees, hanging from buildings, stuck to peoples' backs, blowing through the air, everywhere.

Street in Pamplona

Then just when you thought you could understand what you were looking at a piece of trash would roll over, groan, and puke on itself. People were strewn about the city with the same disregard that people threw their trash. Face down, clutching a bottle of alcohol like it was a child, holding a cell phone to their face, people were laying in literally every position you could imagine. We made our way to the stadium pushing through crowds being harassed for being American and eventually climbed a set of stone stairs to our seats.

Next came all the events we had learned about the previous day in class that lead up to the running itself. There was a short speech by the mayor of Pamplona, a brass band walked around the ring playing, and it all culminated with the firing of a single firework, marking the beginning of the run. Honestly, the running itself was rather anti-climactic. We traveled hours on end, got so excited by everything before the running, and within two and a half minutes the whole thing was over. The bulls ran, a few people fell, all without issue.

La Corrida de Toros

Now here is when things actually got interesting. There is a part to the running that most people don't know about, me included before I actually saw it. After the running, the people that ran and wanted to stay, remained in the ring and just a few minutes later a "small" bull was released to run around and entertain the crowd. Before the release of the bull, thirty to forty of the people in the ring would gather at the door and crouch down on one knee, forming what looked very similar to a rugby scrum. They all lowered their heads, creating one flat surface of human backs. When the bull was released, it came charging out, using the people's backs as a kind of springboard into the ring.

La Corrida de Toros

Then the insanity began. Despite the fact that there were two species down there, only one of which I belonged to, I found myself and the rest of the audience cheering heavily for the bull to ram the people in the ring. My thoughts immediately turned to the Roman Colosseum and people cheering for gladiators to kill each other. The groans at a close miss, the cheers when a person was flipped into the air, and the undivided attention everyone gave the entire spectacle. Part of it was indeed disgusting, but just as you crane your neck to see a car-wreck when you drive by one on the highway, I was craning my neck to make sure I saw every possible bit of violence that bull could cause. I'll never really be able to put it into words but at that moment I felt like I really understood how important the entire festival was to them, why it was such an integral part of their history, and why me and everyone else in that stadium was glued to those bulls.

La Corrida de Toros

Unfortunately, I was only able to spend about an hour or two at both Plentzia and San Sebastian. Plentzia is a small town at the end of the same metro line my dorm is located on so it's an easy trip and only takes about 25 minutes. The beach isn't very big but the sand was soft and the sun came out for the two hours we spent there. The water was absolutely freezing so instead of swimming we just played beach soccer for the pretty much the whole time. Now I'm not much of a goleador but as far as sports go sand is an excellent equalizer. It was a great time and I learned a very important lesson - never head a soccer ball covered in sand... grains of sand on a soccer ball are sharp.

Plentzia

We spent even less time in San Sebastian, about an hour to be exact. However that beach, sin duda, was one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. There's not much more to say about it other than that so instead of doing San Sebastian the injustice of trying to describe it, I'll just show you some pictures. Enjoy!

San Sebastian

San Sebastian

San Sebastian

On Wednesday, June 30, we pulled up to Bilbao listening to Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" blasting through the bus speaker, and frankly it stole something from the moment. On the other hand it wasn't the least bit unusual because as far away as Spain is physically from the United States it just isn't that different. Sure people speak another language and the history is different and all that but everyone listens to American music, everyone loves french fries and hamburgers, and people are as rude on the streets as a New Yorker in a rush. Nevertheless I was pumped up to finally be in the city where I would be spending the rest of my month abroad.

In typical fashion on this trip, we were dropped off, handed keys, and left to fend for ourselves. We moved into our dorms very quickly and while the elevator was the size of a shower the rooms are actually quite spacious and it wasn't hard to get settled in. The view from my window isn't pretty but it's nice to have fresh air and natural light (and for some reason insects don't exist in Spain, so not having a screen on the window isn't an issue).

We took a tour of the school which is absolutely beautiful and the inside is sort of how I imagined Hogwarts in my head way back in the day. My favorite part of the whole complex has to be the courtyards, which are very simple in their design but incredibly elegant.

We also took a tour of the city itself but it was a pretty overcast day so I'll upload one picture for now with the intention of going out and taking more someday when it's nicer.

Town Hall in Bilbao

The city is much smaller and slower than Madrid and the weather and people are much colder. The surrounding country is beautiful and the last four stops on the metro are all beaches. Speaking of beaches, if you ever have the opportunity to go to a nude beach, DO NOT! I went to a beach with a group of my friends that turned out to be a nude beach and I think we were the youngest people by around 35 or 40 years. I've woken up from naps to alarm clocks, to the tv, to the though of having to do homework, but without a doubt the single worst way I've ever woken up from a nap was to the sight of some other guys balls. I'm all in favor of outlawing nudity after the age of, hell why not 30?

The night life here is still quite a blast, with bars and clubs and discoteches lining the streets all through Casco Viejo as well as the newer part of the town. Shops are never open because from casual observation I've gathered that people take a break for all three meals and occasionally combine these breaks. Sure it's nice for them, and I would love it if I owned a shop, but when I'm tryin' to buy something, all I'll say is thank god for the the Chinese supermarket across the street.

Overall I love the city of Bilbao and the fact that everyone honestly takes a "siesta" is enough of a reason for me to live here. More to come on Bilbao and Pamplona and the Running of the Bulls when I get a chance!

Tuesday we woke up bright and early again for a strange breakfast and a long bus ride. We headed out to the city of Segovia, which is a little over an hour North of Madrid. We drove through some less than lovely outskirts of Madrid but as we got closer and closer the scenery became more and more scenic; the land was all rolling green hills and mountains in the distance. We didn't actually do a whole lot other than walk around in Segovia but frankly you don't really need to do much else.

Los Aquaductos de Segovia

The city is most famous for it's Roman-style Acuaductos. The residents also seem to be from the Roman time period which leads me to believe Segovia may indeed be a retirement community. In all seriousness though, while I haven't been a whole lot places known for their beauty (I've been to China, Chile, and London), Segovia has to be one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Segovia

Segovia

It was a holiday in Segovia, El Dia de San Pedro. I'm not sure exactly how they're supposed to honor San Pedro but in Segovia they do it with drunken street dance parties and hood-rat marching bands. Here's a video of said party:

Upon our return to Madrid we all took a little siesta (which by the way, has to be the single most sensible creation in history), and went out to watch the Spain-Portugal futbol game. Outside the stadium where Real Madrid plays an enormous screen was set up with a big area fenced off, lots of policia, and even more crazed Spaniards. Walking to the stadium was certainly one of my most memorable experiences so far in Spain. We left the hotel and were immediately passed by a group of at least fifteen youngish looking Spaniards with faces and chests painted, vuvuzuela horns, and a whole myriad of fight songs they were singing on and off. We decided to follow them because hey, who better to follow right? As we walked down the street nearly every other car was laying on the horn in support of the group and of their country. Some cars had three or four flags being held out the windows and some had people hanging out the windows too. As we made it further down the street the group grew larger and more boisterous. They took to the street holding out their flags in front of oncoming cars like bullfighters taunting a bull. At one point they formed a wall across the road and brought traffic to an entire halt, and I'm pretty sure the cars honking was out of support rather than frustration. Before any of us were able to see the stadium we heard and felt how close we were. The ground and surrounding buildings were vibrating from the chanting stomping and playing of instruments.

There was an entire area fenced off solely to watch the game. The TV screen that had been set up had to be at least 50 feet by 30 feet and was the entire focus of over 10,000 people. We got there relatively early and people just continued to pour in the entire time. People were climbing small kiosks and then being kicked off by the police, knocking over dumpsters and standing on them just to get a view, and if someone dared get on another person's shoulder they were immediately hit with a chorus of boos, middle fingers, and indistinguishable Spanish curse words.

The game began with a bang, Spain taking around five or six shots in the first fifteen minutes, in the end however producing no goals. The crowd became antsy and significantly more intoxicated. On our end we became tired, hot, and hungry. At halftime we decided to walk back to the hotel for dinner and watch the rest of the game there. On our walk home we heard screaming and honking erupt out of nowhere, and we all knew that Spain had scored. We got home and had dinner and were lucky enough to catch the final few minutes of the game and celebrate the win with a few Spaniards in the lobby. Part of me regrets leaving the game at halftime but most of me doesn't when we heard that another group of students from our program had brass knuckles pulled on them solely for being American and in the wrong place at the wrong time. I enjoy soccer but it's not worth a broken jaw.