We arrived in Barcelona pretty broke and nearly defeated. Nearly but not completely. But my shoes, that was another story. They experienced too much sangria and cerveza and after five or six years of dedicated service to my feet, it was time to say goodbye.
Before we get started with the weddings and the home cooking, I completely forgot to write about Hemingway and other books I read during my four week Tour de Force/Team Chaos tour. During my trip to Brussels and Munich, my mind was wandering and wouldn't stop until I purchased a book. My wife suffers from the same ailment. Now that I think about it, when I was younger, my mom always had a book in her hand as well. Unfortunately, for me though, I have a very addictive personality. So once I start a book, that's it, every available second is book book book and more book. Over the course of four weeks, I read five books, two American classics and two sci-fi fantasy books that were over 1,000 pages each. So basically, I read until my head explodes and blood starts oozing out of my ears. But the main point of this seriously too long story is that one of the books I read was The Sun Also Rises. This is the book that made the Festival of San Fermin so popular around the world. So Hemingway and these other expat writers like F. Scott Fitzerald pretty much traveled around Europe and created this crazy writing culture that told the "classic" american story but from outside the country. I know what you're thinking and the answer is "YES". I saw The Great Gatsby at the airport bookstore and pretty much crushed that book on this trip as well in two days. I'll be honest, the classics, are good but I preferred the The Game of Thrones book 2 and book 3 even though they were more than a 1,000 pages long.
After our brief stay in Barcelona, which included walking along the Mediterranean looking like zombies and asleep by 8pm, I arrived in Chicago on Monday ready to reclaim my city. Not quite. I can't reclaim a city that's knocking on 110 degrees followed by torrential tree-uprooting downpour of rain. So for the week, I pretty much did nothing in preparation for the Cape Cod wedding. Oh wait, I went to English High Tea at some fancy hotel and then went to a King Spa. All part of a girls day and night out.
Our first wedding of the American Wedding Tour had us descending upon Cape Cod. I can honestly say I was more excited to see my wife, having spent two weeks apart, than anything else. But the wedding was an added incentive as well for a few reasons. 1. First time in the Boston Cape Cod area 2. I wanted to see if the accents you hear in movies like The Town or Good Will Hunting are actually true (they ARE actually true) 3. And my wife's childhood friend was getting married. We'll just call him J.A.M for Johnny All-American. Pretty much his profile is athletic build, chiseled face, firm handshake, probably played eight Division 1 sports in college and can probably recite Pi out to 54 decimal places. I'm not jealous, I'm just saying, we all know a J.A.M or two. In typical Hemingway fashion, I will say this, J.A.M is a pretty swell guy. Of course, even with GPS navigation, I managed to get lost in Boston on my way to Cape Cod but managed to get to the wedding site in one piece. I don't know much about the Cape but what I do know is that the people in Boston sure do love driving out there. It took me 3 hours for what should take an hour and half. Here are the abbreviate highlights from Wedding #1
I gave my wife a big hug.
As they say on the Cape, "It was a corker" and I sweated through my shirt and suit at the pre-wedding festivities.
My wife and I pretty much owned the dance floor. Women of all ages stalked me. SERIOUSLY
After only sleeping for four hours in 4 days, my brother-in-law gave an amazing best man's toast
After only sleeping for four hours in 4 days, my brother-in-law drank his weight in beer
After only sleeping for four hours in 4 days, my brother-in-law was wrestled to the ground and put to bed by me at 3am. (note to self, never wrestle a trained meathead to the ground in sweaty suit)
After only sleeping for four hours in 4 days, my brother-in-law slept through our noon tee-time and left me alone with my father-in-law aka Mr. "It's all about course management, are you sure you want to use that club" Guy aka Charlie Sheen's best friend aka Bogner.
See pictures and captions below.
Add Cape Cod to our screen saver.
My wife's brother's friends from high school. Hand's off gentlemen!
J.A.M and Mrs. J.A.M
Best Man (pre-wrestling), wife, J.A.M and the family
"I'm not going to bed, it's only 3am, not doing it!"
Mr. and Mrs. Ultimate Warrior
Future Sisters
"I can't wait until your husband slaps the figure four on me and puts me in a headlock!"
For those that don't what a figure four is, I'll let this White Sox fan show you! Until next time...
Wedding ring, Festival Scarf, and several 32 oz Cervezas at 8am.
Post Bull Fight...all six of them!
The event is upon us. This was the main reason Team Chaos decided to venture to Europe for our two week mancation. For the Festival of San Fermin, Running of the Bulls or as some say Running with the Bulls. It's the Running of the Bulls and if you're courageous, fortunate, and sober (you'll see later what I'm talking about) you may get the opportunity to run WITH the bulls. San Fermin is the patron saint of Pamplona. Legend has it that San Fermin was spreading the word of Catholicism and someone didn't take too kind to his preachings and killed him and them dragged him through the streets of a town behind six bulls. Some refute, repudiate, or as our fearless Tea Party leader states, refutiate the claim but alas we still have the festival of San Fermin and the running of bulls every day at 8am for two weeks.
Before we begin this journey of bulls, Hemingway, bull fights, sangria, cerveza, backpackers and more Sangria, my legal team has advised me to say this. Some photos, videos, and content may not be appropriate for minors or people that have just eaten a very large meal. Also, our photos and behaviors in Pamplona are not representative of our future behaviors in the United States, especially considering that I need a job and PlanetFerg just started his new job last week. Lastly, I have Pamplona, two weddings, and a trip to Tuscany floating around in my head right now, so this piece could be quick, it could be long or there could be multiple pieces so please be patient and enjoy the ride.
Leaving Zurich was difficult. We both waved goodbye to our wives as they were headed to the states and we left for Spain and the festival. Somehow I booked a 720am flight and Planetferg was on the 950am flight. So I arrived about two hours earlier and pretty much cuddled up with my luggage and decided to take a much needed siesta. When Planetferg arrived he told me one of the funniest stories I've ever heard from a plane experience. Planetferg sat down next to a couple that was obviously British or American and the husband was wearing a mouth guard type mask and the conversation went something like this:
Wife: Good news and bad news honey...the doctor in Zurich called us back...so that's good news but said that you do indeed have a bacteria and it's CIPRO resistant.
Planetferg: (Under his breadth and in his head) What the $%#@, CIPRO resistant...EXCUSE ME MISS FLIGHT ATTENDENT...IS THAT SEAT OVER THERE TAKEN!
About an hour after my siesta ended, I was still laughing. When we arrived at the train station for our 3.5 hour train ride to Pamplona, it was absolute mayhem. It was a european free for all. No distinguishable lines and no guide and no one really trying to fix the madness. Even with assigned seats we didn't feel comfortable that we were going to gain access to the train. After our mishap in Liege, we asked every soul within a 2 mile radius if this train was in route to Pamplona.
We made it, checked in to our hotel and decided that we needed to scout out the town but not stay out too late. In most places we've visited, typically larger cities, the locals speak English and that helps us navigate and execute our team chaos plans. In Munich, I demonstrated my novice Deutsch to get us through some rough patches and when Planetferg said "It's amazing how quickly my Spanish comes back to me, I'll be able to handle this part of the tirp" I though to myself, "Great". Planetferg's Spanish amounted to me calling my wife whenever we got in to a jam and Planetferg saying "Ah yes...that was the key word in the sentence that I was looking for!" So we were operating under the premise that we would take it easy on Tuesday, as the festival started at 8am the next morning and we would need to be there at 6am to hold down a position to watch the Running of the Bulls.
...yes relaxing means dancing the night away with Spaniards and agitating Pamplona's finest with my Barcelona Football Club shirt. Who knew they were Madridstas and loved Real Madrid. Ahh the Spanish and their Soccer.
So after scoping out the bull run route and avoiding being arrested on Day 1, we made our way back to the hotel...PlanetFerg who had been fighting something fierce for about a week looked as if he wasn't going to make it. I'm not just talking about the next morning, I mean in life! I give him credit for soldiering on for two weeks and surviving the Mrs. Planetferg dance-o-thon but he was in poor shape and only getting worse. Here was the plan...sleep for four hours get up at 5am...catch a bus or cab to Pamplona and then watch the Bulls run and people get trampled and then come back home nap and get after it all over again the next day.
None of the plan worked out...None of it. I overslept and didn't wake up until 645am and Planetferg woke up in tears saying "I'm sorry dude, I can't breadth, it's like my lungs are closed and my ribs are killing me for some strange reason!" He was literally in tears and I believed him, especially since I was the one punching him and kicking him in the middle of the night because he was weezing and snoring so loudly. There were two double beds in our room, so I had to wake up and walk two steps to his bed and nudge him so that he would pipe down. So by the time I arrived with a kick or a punch, my frustration levels were pretty high. SORRY! So I put on my pamplona uniform and literally ran out the hotel and down the street trying to find a cab and eventually took the bus. I should have known something was UP, as all the locals kept giving me this crazy look or shaking their heads at me. I thought maybe it was because I looked liked a hungover American or maybe they had never seen a beautiful chocolate man dressed so nicely in pristine white shirt and pant with a red sash and matching red scarf.
I'm not sure if you all have seen Vanilla Sky when Tom Cruise is running down Madison Avenue and there isn't a soul on the streets. Well that's what happened to me. It was pretty much amateur night for me. An older spanish gentleman yelled across the Placa and gave a throat slash gesture and I thought "how rude" as I was running through the Placa trying to find the streets where I could see live Bulls!
This is all I found...
....pretty much crickets.
Yes...empty streets. I later found out that the older spanish gentleman wasn't slashing his throat at me, he was telling me to remove my red scarf because it's bad luck to wear the scarf around your neck before the festival starts. You can wear it on your head, on your hand or anywhere but your neck. Ah yes, festival starting, the important thing. Well the running takes place everyday EXCEPT the first day. There's an official ceremony that takes place at noon of the first day and after the noon fireworks you can rock your red scarf around your neck of course after holding the scarf over your head for nearly five minutes.
Instead of moping around, I decided to look for Cerveza at 8am in the morning and stumbled upon a medieval fort.
Besides the backpackers, many of which slept in the Placas and parks of Pamplona, I was the first on the scene and many people came up to me to shake my hand. Little did they know that I was just an idiot with no clue when the festival started.
Thank you very much, Vote Williams in 2020
At about 9am, more folks came trickling in. I befriended and shared my Cerveza's with a young lady from Chicago who was voted one of Chicago best hair stylists in 2011, a member of team U.S.A's national inline hockey team and a member of the Iranian National in-line hockey team. The Iranian gentlemen was American born with Iranian parents but on his way to an international tournament in Italy. Yes this is my crazy life and the people I meet.
And then it all started. Mayhem to infinity....Scarfs in the air, then fire works, then beer, sangria, and silly string being sprayed for the next two hours. I arrived in an all white outfit and left looking like I went swimming in beer and red kool-aid.
That's not a blurry picture, that's peeping dousing one another with beer and Sangria
At this point, I'm officially a San Fermin'er and now I need to go back to the hotel and find my wing man PlanetFerg. I also had to return because I couldn't see out of either eye because of beer and sangria. The last thing I recall is telling my new friends that I couldn't see and then I started to walk aimlessly with eyes closed until I spotted a cab. That took about 15 minutes and countless horns honking at me as I walked though traffic.
After a brief two hour siesta, it was 5pm and Planetferg was ready to get after it as well. He recruited a New Yorker that was staying at our hotel and then we were off.
So it would be easy to assume that San Fermin is all about the adults who tote Sangria and Cerveza around. It no doubt has that element as well but it's also kid friendly. It's was not uncommon to see children out at 1am or 2am. We actually purchased our outfits from a 10 year old working at 130am. But the Running of the Firecracker Bull was the closest that I got to running with the Bulls....yet another tradition we knew nothing about!
Parents with Kids ran through the streets from the Firecracker Bull
Those sparkles and fireworks really did hurt!
Wednesday was fun but of course Thursday was going to be our day to see some bulls. We figured we'd come in and get a couple hours of shut eye and then roll back out with furious enthusiasm. Someone, NOT ME, had the bright idea of closing the blinds which essentially made the room completely dark with no sunlight. Team chaos slept through a wake-up call, three alarms, and our New Yorker friend banging on our door at 530am...only to get up at 930am. No Bulls. So I made the first executive decision to just chill until the Bullfight. It was probably the best decision we made the entire time in Pamplona. A little info on the bullfights...There are six bulls that run each day and each day there are six bullfights. So yes, this festival sees quite a few bulls and never the same ones if you know what I mean!
Funny but not so funny story. Our fakey concierge which is really just the manager of the hotel informed Planetferg that he could get tickets to the "sold out" bullfight. Only 70 euros. Done and done. After taking in some wonderful sangria and watching the local bands march during the pre-fight parade, we noticed a very Kansas City Royal environment. Royals meaning, everyone was scalping tickets...15 euro here, 20 euro there...and we're sitting on the 70 euro nosebleeds. Nice!!! But honestly it was worth every euro!
Prior to arriving, many folks had mentioned how gruesome the fights were and how it was hard to take in a full fight but as we sat in the local Spanish section, I didn't get a sense of cruelty. It really felt as if the people were carrying on a tradition and that they had the utmost respect for the fighters and the bulls. Our New York friend literally couldn't stomach it and let's just say got sick in the stands which was shocking because she was a self proclaimed NYC tough girl. But she was only person that I saw visibly sick, so then I felt reassured that I wasn't a cruel human being. What I did see was folks taking out sandwiches, bottles of nice wine, and champagne. This was truly an event for the locals. Honestly, it was an interesting experience to see the crowd intently watching every move of the bull and the matador. I can't describe it but to say that the matador was graceful under pressure and the Bulls were fearless until the very end. And it was also a grand production with several matadors taking part in each fight, bands playing the entire time, and the matadors strutting around with major confidence and bravado.
See for yourself...
Sick and kind of happy
Excited and ready for more Sangria.
Getting the Ring ready
Sun side is the equivalent of the bleachers at Wrigley or Yankee Stadium
Lining the bull up.
Down goes the bull
The Bull is "carried" out
I survived my first 6 bullfights.
My second executive decision: "We are staying up all night tonight, no excuses. It's our last night and I don't want to get home and not have seen Bulls running over or by people"
PlanetFerg agreed and our journey began....
Staying up until 6am is easier said than done. I've done it several times for work and play and it's usually never planned. When you plan it, it almost never happens. But when it happens, it's a pretty glorious experience. Glorious indeed...and after the first two nights, Team Chaos needed some gloriousness...
Pictures are better than words sometimes...
Street performers...
En route to Family friendly carnival...very peaceful, no?
Bottoms up Sponge Bob
Tradition...they run the Bulls every night without people on the street...
It's getting late but this band kept it amped up...
And then it was downhill for those that couldn't hang.
Did someone invite the Champagne Monster...we've officially reached PlanetFerg!
Random shirtless gentlemen and Planetferg trying to say no...
San Fermin Garbage Plank...
Random street party
San Fermin "out" plank
Don't worry, I'm just posing...nothing to see here.
Only two more hours to go...
Poor Planetferg...he's chilli at 4am in the morning and purchased a Sweater.
No clue at all who you are but feel free to jump in...she was literally 4'9
Leaving the bar plank...
Bartender took my "club" glasses and decided to dance.
Park Bench plank...
I think this gentleman is resting for the running!
And then we arrived!!!! Twelve hours later and a trail of destruction.
When you arrive at 6am...there are several choices to make.
Do we run? Our wives, mothers and in-laws pretty much made that decision for us. "No!" was the answer but I'm not going to lie, 4,000 miles away from the "law" and only two wooden fences stood between us and the opportunity to run 40 meters and get trampled was pretty tempting.
Where do we stand? We decided at the beginning of the course, a place they call Death's Corner.
Can we really stay perched on this fence for two hours until 8am? YES WE CAN and DID.
As you can imagine, there were several thousand people running, and about 80% of those people came straight from the bars with us. No joke, they roll out the club, stretch out, sober up for two hours and then haul their you know whats down a narrow and slippery road both uphill and downhill while six bulls and six steer come after them.
Coincidently enough, we were perched next to a couple that graduated from the University of Missouri and they offered us snacks and I quickly responded, "You've beaten us in football the past 4 years and basketball the past 2 years, you all seem like nice folk and all but I'm not accepting any pity snacks from some Mizzou grads" I was 80% joking and 100% serious.
It's official, the EMT arrived on the scene!
Yep, she's sleeping up there!
First five minutes is a walk to allow the crowds to even out a bit.
Now the real running begins
Watch out!!!!
Here's some live footage. As I mentioned before this isn't for kids and the language can be somewhat "interesting" especially when the bulls zoom by our location which is called Death's corner (3:34ish).
All I can say is that this is...BEST.FESTIVAL.EVER!
