A good time in a little town
Excuse the lack of updates. I feel like I have asked for clemency quite a bit these days, but then again, maybe I have just been feeling guilty for not writing. At least two or three people have commented on my blog, and both times the feedback was positive, so I must continue to write for those who DO read this blog. If you do come by, leave a message and say hi! It forces me to write when I am not "inspired."
Anyway; on monday, me and David (my friend from Gordon that is hanging out with me for the summer) went to visit an old high school friend whose name is also David (we will call him Jimmy so that there is no confusions of Davids in this post). He lives about 3.5 hours north of madrid in a small town of 20,000 in the middle of the spanish plains. I guess I should start this story a little farther back.
On friday I went to my old high school to attend the senior graduation. The graduating class this year was the freshman class during my senior year. Seeing that my high school had a grand total of about 40 people, I knew them pretty well and figured that it would be fun to go see them graduate. Also, ECA (my high school) is notorious for having a lot of old graduates come back for Grad, so I was hoping to see some old friends. Unfortunately I was the only loser to go back from my graduating class. Jimmy went, but his little brother was graduating. Anyway, I was very glad to see him and he invited me to his house this week because the town festivals were going on for a couple days. It sounded like a good idea, so we decided to do it.
I went up on monday with David and another friend from high school named Daniel. Upon arriving, Jimmy took us to the "local" where his "peña" was hanging out. During the "fiestas" of the town, people rent out old bars and abandoned, crappy stores so that groups of friends can have a clubhouse type place. This one was particularly grungy. They had pulled out the seats of old cars and brought them to their "local" to use as sofas. Then they had a bare light-bulb hanging from the ceiling. The only other equipment that they owned was an old boom box and a fridge packed with beer and other booze. So it was perfect for what they wanted. We hung out there for a bit and then headed up the street where there was going to be a running of a young bull. It was fun. The bull has a rope tied to its horns that people (a LOT of people) pull to get it going and direct it down the right streets. This bull was young, but still big. I could barely imagine running with a whole load of full grown bulls like some towns do. I started off running in front but stopped to see where it was, before I knew it... it had run past me (people were running everywhere, pure chaos). So I ran after it. I finally got to it in a plaza where they had tied it to a ring that was stuck in the ground so that people could watch it and so it could take a breather. Then we took off again. It was crazy and lots of fun. They did another running of the bulls on wednesday morning with several at once, but I was too tired to go for reasons that I am soon to disclose.
Tuesday was a fun day. I hung out with Jimmy's younger brother, also named Daniel, because Jimmy was off galapaganting around his town and we didn't feel like it. Either way, it was a relaxing day. We walked around the town a bit, watched a movie (Dancing With Wolves), and then went out into the country. When we left the town and went to the "campo," we went to his family's old flour mill. It was about 400 years old and still working. They stopped making flour last year, because new regulations prevented them from using it unless they made radical changes and it wasn't worth it to them. It was still neat to see. We also saw their father's workshop. He is a carpenter, but is truly an artist. However, there isn't much artwork being ordered in rural spain, so he makes tables. It was kind of sad to see such a brilliant sculptor having to make tables for people. He had studied in many prestigious french art academies... oh well. It DID make me want to learn to sculpt wood and stuff. After watching him make some really neat stuff, we went out into the field for a walk. However we were attacked by a legion of mosquitoes so we ran back with more than one battle wound to show for the whole ordeal. One anecdote worth mentioning was the fact that Daniel is an avid bug collector and was racing up and down the meadows collecting strange specimens. He was scooping things into jars, snatching things out of the air and yelling about his new catches. It was all very funny.
Anyway, when we got back to Jimmy's house he was waiting for us with preparations for the night. That night was what was called the "Fam de Foc." It consisted of a giant fire and pyrotechnic event. He warned us that if we didn't wear long sleeves we would get burned, and if we didn't wear hats or caps we would get sparks in our eyes and go blind. So we bundled up in the middle of 80 degree weather and headed out at 11:30 p.m.. We got to the main square and it was packed with people. The sober ones were wearing heavy clothes and the... err... blotto ones were not. Suddenly a strange four wheeled, two storied contraption started coming through the crowd. A strangely dressed man (looking halfway between a super hero modeled after a fly, and a court jester) was standing on the top of it. He was screaming into a mic and suddenly lit up a red flare. The village square, which had previously been submersed in relative darkness, was lit up with a eerie red light worthy of Dante's best nightmare. Many more jesters came into the plaza dancing with more lit flares. Just as I was thinking that I overdressed for the occasion, one of them pulled out a metal rod with a roman candle attached at the end. It lit up and hot sparks started flying out. Unlike anything that would have been legal in the USA, this person started pointing the fire-breathing object at the crowd causing people to scurry back. Suddenly my friends bolted towards the fire-bearer and pressed towards him ducking under the range of the torch. I realized (as a spark fell on my sweatshirt, burning a fairly large hole in it), that the only way to not get the hell burned out of me was to either run away from the pyros or to get close enough to dodge their maneuvers. Getting close was the more risky, so in I went. That went on for a couple of hours, with the large fire car thing (which was called the dragon) herding the crowd down certain streets toward the final resting place. Of course these streets were rigged with traps where we were suddenly enclosed under strings of fireworks above our heads. They went off as we went by, causing people to dodge them as well. Eventually as we reached the end of the march, they brought out bigger and more dangerous ways of burning the bejeezus out of us, such as riding into the crowd with motorcycles covered in giant roman candles, or rolling empty spark shooting kegs down the street at us. It was quite an experience and I must say that I enjoyed it immensely.
Go to photo bucket to access some pics of the festival. The username is Album is Ryonious. It will ask for a password. It is ryaniscool. I used that phrase so that someone other than me would be forced to write it for once.
Anyway; on monday, me and David (my friend from Gordon that is hanging out with me for the summer) went to visit an old high school friend whose name is also David (we will call him Jimmy so that there is no confusions of Davids in this post). He lives about 3.5 hours north of madrid in a small town of 20,000 in the middle of the spanish plains. I guess I should start this story a little farther back.
On friday I went to my old high school to attend the senior graduation. The graduating class this year was the freshman class during my senior year. Seeing that my high school had a grand total of about 40 people, I knew them pretty well and figured that it would be fun to go see them graduate. Also, ECA (my high school) is notorious for having a lot of old graduates come back for Grad, so I was hoping to see some old friends. Unfortunately I was the only loser to go back from my graduating class. Jimmy went, but his little brother was graduating. Anyway, I was very glad to see him and he invited me to his house this week because the town festivals were going on for a couple days. It sounded like a good idea, so we decided to do it.
I went up on monday with David and another friend from high school named Daniel. Upon arriving, Jimmy took us to the "local" where his "peña" was hanging out. During the "fiestas" of the town, people rent out old bars and abandoned, crappy stores so that groups of friends can have a clubhouse type place. This one was particularly grungy. They had pulled out the seats of old cars and brought them to their "local" to use as sofas. Then they had a bare light-bulb hanging from the ceiling. The only other equipment that they owned was an old boom box and a fridge packed with beer and other booze. So it was perfect for what they wanted. We hung out there for a bit and then headed up the street where there was going to be a running of a young bull. It was fun. The bull has a rope tied to its horns that people (a LOT of people) pull to get it going and direct it down the right streets. This bull was young, but still big. I could barely imagine running with a whole load of full grown bulls like some towns do. I started off running in front but stopped to see where it was, before I knew it... it had run past me (people were running everywhere, pure chaos). So I ran after it. I finally got to it in a plaza where they had tied it to a ring that was stuck in the ground so that people could watch it and so it could take a breather. Then we took off again. It was crazy and lots of fun. They did another running of the bulls on wednesday morning with several at once, but I was too tired to go for reasons that I am soon to disclose.
Tuesday was a fun day. I hung out with Jimmy's younger brother, also named Daniel, because Jimmy was off galapaganting around his town and we didn't feel like it. Either way, it was a relaxing day. We walked around the town a bit, watched a movie (Dancing With Wolves), and then went out into the country. When we left the town and went to the "campo," we went to his family's old flour mill. It was about 400 years old and still working. They stopped making flour last year, because new regulations prevented them from using it unless they made radical changes and it wasn't worth it to them. It was still neat to see. We also saw their father's workshop. He is a carpenter, but is truly an artist. However, there isn't much artwork being ordered in rural spain, so he makes tables. It was kind of sad to see such a brilliant sculptor having to make tables for people. He had studied in many prestigious french art academies... oh well. It DID make me want to learn to sculpt wood and stuff. After watching him make some really neat stuff, we went out into the field for a walk. However we were attacked by a legion of mosquitoes so we ran back with more than one battle wound to show for the whole ordeal. One anecdote worth mentioning was the fact that Daniel is an avid bug collector and was racing up and down the meadows collecting strange specimens. He was scooping things into jars, snatching things out of the air and yelling about his new catches. It was all very funny.
Anyway, when we got back to Jimmy's house he was waiting for us with preparations for the night. That night was what was called the "Fam de Foc." It consisted of a giant fire and pyrotechnic event. He warned us that if we didn't wear long sleeves we would get burned, and if we didn't wear hats or caps we would get sparks in our eyes and go blind. So we bundled up in the middle of 80 degree weather and headed out at 11:30 p.m.. We got to the main square and it was packed with people. The sober ones were wearing heavy clothes and the... err... blotto ones were not. Suddenly a strange four wheeled, two storied contraption started coming through the crowd. A strangely dressed man (looking halfway between a super hero modeled after a fly, and a court jester) was standing on the top of it. He was screaming into a mic and suddenly lit up a red flare. The village square, which had previously been submersed in relative darkness, was lit up with a eerie red light worthy of Dante's best nightmare. Many more jesters came into the plaza dancing with more lit flares. Just as I was thinking that I overdressed for the occasion, one of them pulled out a metal rod with a roman candle attached at the end. It lit up and hot sparks started flying out. Unlike anything that would have been legal in the USA, this person started pointing the fire-breathing object at the crowd causing people to scurry back. Suddenly my friends bolted towards the fire-bearer and pressed towards him ducking under the range of the torch. I realized (as a spark fell on my sweatshirt, burning a fairly large hole in it), that the only way to not get the hell burned out of me was to either run away from the pyros or to get close enough to dodge their maneuvers. Getting close was the more risky, so in I went. That went on for a couple of hours, with the large fire car thing (which was called the dragon) herding the crowd down certain streets toward the final resting place. Of course these streets were rigged with traps where we were suddenly enclosed under strings of fireworks above our heads. They went off as we went by, causing people to dodge them as well. Eventually as we reached the end of the march, they brought out bigger and more dangerous ways of burning the bejeezus out of us, such as riding into the crowd with motorcycles covered in giant roman candles, or rolling empty spark shooting kegs down the street at us. It was quite an experience and I must say that I enjoyed it immensely.
Go to photo bucket to access some pics of the festival. The username is Album is Ryonious. It will ask for a password. It is ryaniscool. I used that phrase so that someone other than me would be forced to write it for once.
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