La Festival de San Fermin (holy s&!#)

After a gruelingly long trek northward across the Spanish countryside (which, if you can't sleep, take a sec and just watch what you're passing. You don't see that everyday), in which I switched buses multiple times due to temperature issues, we arrived in Pamplona.  It's a quaint (#mymomsfavoriteword) city situated on the outskirts of Pais Vasco somewhere in the north of Spain with some really incredible views.  Living in Ohio, it's hard to believe that some lucky bastards get to wake up to views like this every morning.  Like a true culture-seeking young adult looking for a true immersion experience, me and a group of about 10 other Americans set out for the nearest bar to quench the thirst that we had so painstakingly sustained for a 6-hour bus ride.  First, however, we had to buy the essentials: the red scarf/sash thingy that literally everyone wears.  The dude abided, and I paid 5 euros for a red scarf that I would sport around my waist for the marathon that is La Festival de San Fermin.
After stopping into a tienda chino (translation: Chinese store. All the little shops to buy beer, liquor, and candy are run by Chinese people. Kinda like 7-11s in the States.  It still catches me off guard seeing an Asian person speak Spanish) to buy some overpriced rum and Coke, we explored Pamplona.  What a city.  It's got that European charm that everyone's always talking about when they get back from Euro-trips.  It also has an exorbitant amount of hot chicks.  I guess that goes for every place I've been in Spain, but it's downright nuts.  I think I paid more attention because everyone is wearing the same thing at the Festival, so I had to find little things to discern one from the other.  There's something about 'em.  Maybe the language, maybe the fact that they wake up and that's as pretty as they'll be all day (which isn't a slight to them in the ...slightest), maybe the skin.  I don't know. But it's starting to drive me crazy. It's kinda like when you watch a Natalie Portman movie and you know that you will literally never be able to touch or even have any sort of intelligible conversation with her.  Damn.

She went hard.  I actually saw a couple of guys dragging her through the mud to where she is in this picture. She didn't move a muscle.  She very well may be dead.

Anyway, we walked down a little road with a breathtaking view of the mountains in the distance where there was a HUGE gathering of Spaniards, waiting and reverently watching something behind a gate.  I went up to a guy and asked him (culture!) what was going on and he said that each night before the race (held each day for a week in July at 8am) some cowboys or something bring the bulls into their holding pens, where they wait until the next morning.  This was pretty cool.  Everyone stands there without a sound until the bulls pass, at which point everyone cheers really loudly.  It got me to thinking, though.  I don't get the bull-Spaniard dynamic.  It's stuff like this that makes you think, wow, these people have respect for these beasts, but in just 10 hours they let them run wild in the streets behind a bunch of drunk, crazed people, ultimately, to their death.  I'm not judging either way, I just don't get it.  (By the way, vegetarians and vegans, don't go to something like this if you're gonna make a 'moral stand' on how it's a reprehensible, horrible act of sport.  Stop it. Don't put yourself in the situation because you're annoying the shit out of everyone who's there to have fun. You don't eat meat. We get it. Try a burger. They're delicious!)

This is where everyone waited for the bulls
to be filed into their pens.

My buddy Chris and I eventually got separated from the others, and my bottle of rum (another 15 euros pissed away), and explored more of Pamplona.  What a scene.  People say Americans party hard.  These Spanish folk take it to another level.  I take pride in a good ol' fashioned OSU football tailgate, and Saturday mornings in the fall in Columbus are reserved for hearty binge-drinking and school spirit, but I've never seen anything like it. You routinely see people absolutely sauced, face down passed out in the mud.  Culture, I guess?  Anyway, we sipped (housed) on some Mahou and happened on our other roommate, Andrew.  This is when the party started.  In the main plaza, Plaza del Castillo, while we braved the rain (first time I saw rain in Spain after being here for more than a month), we watched them set-up for a concert.  Then the music started.  And then we ran, FAST, to the front row where we danced like crazys to everything from Lady Gaga to The Village People.  Somewhere during this time, Andrew, aka fratstar numero uno, was quoted as saying "I have never been this happy in my life."  Actually, it was more like "I HAVE NEVER BEEN THIS HAPPY IN MY LIFE."  He's got a knack for yelling everything he says.  I'm sure his happiness had something to do with the 2 liter of Coke that he had in his hand, in which at least one liter was rum, but, nonetheless, we were crushing life.  It was one of those times where I was thinking, "this might just be something I'll never forget."  Also, "this should be in a movie."

Mr. Andrew Matthews.  He bought
these sunglasses for 10 euros for
some reason.  Alcohol.

The next 6 or so hours were a blur of beer, calimocho (red wine and Coke...damn tasty and really popular in Spain), eating bocadillos, hanging out with some New Yawkaz and a girl with a striking resemblance to Jessica Alba, more booze, speaking some damn good Spanish, if I do say so myself, and passing out on a stone wall, which, at the time, was as comfortable as the first time you lay on a waterbed.  I woke up with a foggy head and a half-hangover.  At 8pm the previous night, I had enough adrenaline to take a bull in 10 rounds of a boxing match.  Fast forward to 5:30am, all I wanted was a blanket, a Big Mac, and a bed.


I didn't run.  But I vow to make it back to Pamplona one day.  Because I think the 13 hours that I spent in Pamplona may just have been the best of my life.

Suerte, y'all.

The beginning of my Madrid adventures (for the English speakers)

Ah, yes ... Madrid. I love you. I think this city is characterized by the cosmopolitan nature of its people, who are from any and every part of the world. But also, they share a sense of pride to be Castilian and to be citizens of the most interesting city I've seen in my life. The Puerta del Sol is my favorite neighborhood at this point, but obviously I have a lot more exploring to do. This barrio is where everything goes down; the restaurants with cuisine from all over the world, the bars that boast menus with all types of alcohol (tip: Do not take two shots of Absynth in a row), and girls ... GIRLS ........ Ah, but the girls can be a topic for another time. At the beginning of this experience I was a little discouraged to know that I wasn't going to be spending the summer in Barcelona. (Because, let's be honest, I'd be hard-pressed to find anyone who has something bad to say about the city). But my feelings changed a lot when I first saw the rolling terrain, peppered with mountain peaks and unexpectedly amazing views, that borders Madrid. I heard that Madrid was a 'truly Spanish city,' in that pretty much everybody speaks Spanish, whereas Barcelona is really more of an international city where English is more prevalent. I have a roommate here who doesn't speak any Spanish, and without us as translators, would have no chance to live in a city like this. And I like that. I like the feeling of actually being a member of the culture, an experience of absolute immersion. From time to time, for no particular reason, I come to and realize that  "I am in Madrid."  It'd be hard to put in words what that feeling is like but it's....well, it's just cool. I am blessed beyond belief to have the opportunity to be living an experience like this... and you can bet I'm going to make everything I can of it. 
Chau chau 

El inicio de mi aventura madrilena

Ah, si...Madrid.  Te amo.  Me parece que esta ciudad se caracteriza por la naturaleza cosmopolita de sus personas, los quienes tienen origen en cualquier parte del mundo. Pero, tambien, comparten un sentimiento de orgullo ser Castellano y ciudadano de la ciudad mas interesante que he visto en mi vida.  La Puerta del Sol es mi barrio favorito hasta este punto, pero obviamente tengo muchisimo mas exploracion hacer.  Este barrio esta donde toda pasa; los restaurantes con cocina de todos partes del mundo, los barres que se jactan de una carta con todos los tipos de alcohol (tip: no tomes dos chupitos de absynth en una fila), y chicas..........CHICAS.  Pero las chicas es topico para otra entrada.
Al principio de esta experiencia, por ser honesto, estaba un poquito desanimado saber que no iba a trabajar en Barcelona.  Pero, mis sentimientos cambiaba muchisimo cuando primero vi la terrana alrededor de Madrid y todo que ofrece la ciudad.  He oido que Madrid es una ciudad cierta muy 'espanol,' en que no es tan internacional que Barcelona, y siempre se habla el castellano.  Tengo companero aqui que no habla nada espanol, y sin nosotros como traductores, no tendria nada oportunidad vivir en una ciudad asi.  Y eso me gusta.  Me gusta el sentimiento ser socio cierto de la cultura, una experiencia de imersion actual.
De vez en cuando, en horas al azares, tengo el pensamiento que "yo estoy en Madrid."  Es sentimiento supercopado que tengo la suerte experimentar algo asi...y intento hacer lo mas que posible de la experienca en mi dos meses en Madrid.

Suerte todos!

Chau chau

Tiger Woods

Now, I haven't been alive for many years, but I would say that no one has ever transformed a sport as much as Tiger Woods.  Jordan did tons for basketball...making it cool to play defense, making it cool to wear shorts below the knees, making it cool to wear Nike, making it cool to win 6 championships...but considering where golf has come from pre-Tiger and where it is now, there's no question Tiger is responsible for the single biggest change in the American sports landscape.  Who knows what I would have done with my summers for the past 10 years had I not picked up a club.  Moreover, who knows what I would have done with my summers had my brother not picked up a club, which was in also large part due to Tiger.  And that's what we did.  Kids do things that they think is cool, and for the first time, golf was cool.
But, here we are again.  Idling those superstars who we sit in front and watch and, dare I say it, get to know? It's kind of hard to think we don't know these people, right? Of course now it's bordering ridiculousness, with guys like Chad Ochocinco (or Johnson or whatever the hell he is nowadays. Who gives a s&@#, the Bengals suck anyways) tweeting so often you literally wonder how he has time to do anything else.  Which brings me to my next point, I follow him and he's pretty entertaining (BTW I'm @tstaff9 on Twitter).  But, seriously, there is so much transparency in the world of sports, you form relationships with these people.  You watch them every night, then on Sportscenter the next morning, to the point where you even know what they're going to say at the postgame press conference because you already watched it the night before when it was live.  Then you're reading articles about them online and following their myriad tweets about God knows what.  Thing is, they're always there, and when you have familiarity with someone like that, you start to feel like you know them and trust them. You look up to them.
I loved Tiger.  He made my summers a bi-sport marathon, with golf now complementing baseball.  How many times did you stare at an 8-footer and first thing that came to your mind is a vision of Tiger walking after his putt right after contact 'cause he knows he just made a huge par save on a crucial hole in any of the 14 majors he has won?  That 'Tiger Woods PGA' video game, or I guess I should say whole franchise of fantastically entertaining Playstation and XBox games.  Oh, he wears Nike, too?  Yeah, that's a guy I'm going to like.
Well, then we find out about the absolute trainwreck of a Thanksgiving night anyone could ever imagine.  (I take away from those news reports that it's imprudent to mix Ambien with a wife who just found out you've cheated on her and has access to your golf clubs).  Then more and more stuff came out and it was instantly just laughable.  ("He slept with how many different women?"  "....geez").  The more and more that came out, the more and more I realized that to think these people are like us is ludicrous.  The guy grew up winning every big amateur tournament in the U.S. and then goes on to rack up 14 majors at a neck-breaking pace and with relative ease.  He's got a franchise.  He's Tiger Woods.  Let's just say, kind of intrinsic to the whole aspect of being a 'worldwide phenom/superstar', he had some opportunities that the common man doesn't.  He took advantage of those opportunities, just as any great champion would.  Unfortunately for him, his wife, his family, and his millions of fans all over the world, those "opportunities" were extramarital affairs.
And we watched it all. In awe! But that was it for me and Tiger Woods.  Growing up watching a guy at the absolute top of his game, I fell victim to liking and knowing that man.  I was wrong (like 18 times worth).
I've got a bet open with my brother about Tiger's prospects of reaching Jack.  I don't know if I've ever liked my odds in a bet more than the what I have with this one.  I say there's no way he wins 19.  No way he wins 18.  I don't even think he's going to get to 16.
It wasn't a popular bet to 'take the field' in a tournament that Tiger entered during his supremacy.  But it is now, and I'm in that corner, cheerin' loudly.


Long live 18.

Memorial Day

I couldn't be more proud of the country that I live in, and in no way have I ever been afraid to sing its praises, despite strong opposing thoughts by people I've met from all over the world.  Today is a day to commemorate the unyielding courage and determination to continually observe and celebrate the beauty of free will and liberty which has characterized these United States for centuries now.  I have so much respect for anyone who has ever served this country.  I try to say thanks to people who have served when I can, and it's so unfortunate that these men and women are sometimes seen in a bad light due to some of the goings-on of the media-centric political landscape of today.  Several weeks ago, we witnessed the celebration of the glorious culmination of the sick, twisted, thuggish life of Osama bin Laden.  A lot of people may criticize the revelry that went on at Ohio State that Sunday night.  Whatever may be said, it was done in good taste and in a spirit of patriotism.  We lived beneath the shadow of a decade of uncertainty, a continuous episode of not knowing if we were in danger of further terrorist attacks and misplaced American hatred.  That coward's death and the celebrations that went along with it mark a defining moment in the history of this great nation.  I remember hearing the announcements during my lunch period telling about what was happening on our own soil.  The silence was deafening.  Almost ten years later, so were the "U-S-A" chants, the out-of-tune but oh-so-beautiful singing of the Star-Spangled Banner in the middle of Mirror Lake, and car horn beeps and echoes of screaming patriots that littered the Spring air on that historical day almost one month ago.  To quote Michael Medved, we live in "the greatest country on God's green Earth."  I couldn't agree more.  Let's say thanks to the vets and servicemen today.  Happy Memorial Day all!