The Sun Also Stinks.
Saturday last, we drove to Pamplona for the busiest day of the San Fermin Festival. It was a lovely drive - three hours through the Pyrenees. But of course, no family trip is not without its... stomach aches. Somewhere, right over the border, we sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and sat and sat (and if you've potty trained a toddler, surely you have read the book) while SpecK sat and sat and sat (you get the pic) on a toilet, in a very small service station.
What a drive!! We went through a pass where a very old fort was built right into the side of the mountain. Very Lord of the Rings. We saw sheep way up the mountain. And then a ski resort - just plopped down by the ski aliens. We went from cool and cloudy to warm and sunny in a matter of meters!
There is no visible or physical border between France and Spain. Just like my waistline, it no longer exists. Just an old, 1960's looking gate house. SPAIN! Sunny, cool, beautiful. Another two hours or so pass (so did SpecK, BTW, and all was well), and we drove into Pamplona.
We hit the pavement. It would be a beautiful town, if it weren't full of drunks. Let me rephrase - it is a beautiful town; I should visit when it is not full of drunks. We walked the kids over to the big and beautiful Plaza del Castillo and tried to sit down to eat.
The old town was littered with broken glass, garbage, people, and the entire area stunk of vomit, urine, several different kinds of smoke. The kids were traumatized. I've kept them in the French countryside for too long. Or not. It's good for them in a "Mom, uh... so when I get home I can totally say 'what not to do when your'e drunk.'" Life lesson, honey, life lesson. Yeah, we sat down and the crush of people, stench and heat pretty much had two of my children near tears when the Tween said, "Mom, I think we should leave."
So we did! We made it worse!! We pushed on further into the old town, where there were shopping carts full of hard liquor and enterprising people selling mixed drinks out of their carts; no wonder people were puking. The shops sell cold, one liter plastic bottles of sangria, which I
think is a great idea. For a reference, it was 1:30 in the afternoon.
They were traumatized and looked horribly unhappy. They covered their screwed up little faces with whatever they had in their hands. We laughed. Toughen up, kiddos. You ain't in the French countryside anymore!
As Lee got lost staring at his phone, I read the map and walked in circles. Eventually we stopped in the Plaza Consistorial and I said, "ENOUGH! Time for ice cream." Everybody was happy-ish. The kids uncovered their noses long enough to eat some ice cream.
We located the apartment where we would watch the run the next day. Grabbed a ham sandwich (of the Iberico kind - booyah!) and I said, "Enough. We are walking back now." The kids had had enough of the Las Vegas meets Frat Party meets college football tailgate meets DisneyWorld meets Stag Bachelor Party meets NOLA Carnivale.
There are a lot of families, old and young, come out, dressed in white with their red neckerchiefs and sashes. The little ones, all dressed up are really cute. The old people, sauntering and strolling through the square, seem to be oblivious or immune to the ginormous party going on around them. All of them were dressed in red and white, dresses and heals, or pants and sweaters in white and red, but everybody had a neckerchief and sash! It was amazing to witness and all in the name of the Saint Fermin. I was really impressed with how respectful revelers were of families. No, really, the Spaniards are all about family, and several generations celebrate together. I saw many young people supporting their old people while walking through the (filthy) streets. I saw many, many very young children, infants included, in the middle of the giant party at 10:30 at night. Strollers, sleeping babies, screaming, crying babies, toddlers running this way and that, and lots of moms and dads managing it all. And in a way, the revelers just steer clear and respect the space of children.
I have to say, the Spaniards know how to party. There were plenty of Americans (amateurs) participating in the debauchery. I spent my time directing my children away from the (okay, let's just say it, 20 year olds) bent over puking in the streets and men pissing on available corner of... well, anything. Corner of a building, portable urinal, corner of a trash bin.
The City of Pamplona - they are amazing. Despite all the mess, the city has garbage cans, dumpsters, portable WCs, and yet, the drunks can't seem to find them or they were full. And tiny garbage trucks were slowly navigating the tiny streets packed with people to empty the dumpsters - at all times of the day. There were teams of people cleaning up the piles of garbage left behind. It was insane.
How much do you think the therapy will cost? Everything is my fault anyway. Someday they will tell their therapist about the horrible parenting they received as children, getting dragged through the revelry at the Running of the Bulls. It is made worse by a mother that yells, "HEY-OH!!" and takes a picture of this on the way back to the hotel...
I crack myself up.
After some cool, quiet respite at the hotel, we went to the Plaza Conde de Rodenza, with all the kid activities and watched some street performers, as if the streets were not already full of entertaining folks. I wanted to see the marionettes, but we skipped it to locate food. After dinner, my goal was to get back into the center of the fray and participate in the running of the... Toro del Fuego!
My son, clinging to my arm, completely unhappy about going BACK into that Roman party, and I pushed through the crowd to the Santo Domingo, with the rest trailing behind. I don't think I need to describe it - it was now around 9:00 at night. In all honesty, if my kids were not with me, I'd be having a great time! I thought it was a fantastic party and I totally get it. There were bands out all over the city, and "musicians" wandering the streets. One young man had a trumpet and let loose a reveille and everybody cheered and shouted, "TORO!" FREAKING AWESOME, if you ask me.
At 9:45, out into the streets around Santo Domingo, a man, with a big, black plastic(?) or fiberglass(?) bull propped on his body runs through the streets, chasing the children (with their parents) and fireworks shoot sparks out from the bull.
It was the greatest thing I've done with the kids thus far.
It made one pass and when it turned around to pass again, H2 pulled his hoodie up (I smelled burning hair), grabbed my hand tightly and said, "Let's do this!!" I grabbed the Tween, asked SpecK (who looked a teensy bit scared) and we ran off into the crowd and away from the bull. It was hilarious - until I got flat tired and lost my shoe. At that moment, I was never so grateful that I had the forethought to wear ugly socks. I hobbled around on tip toe in what used to be a white sock until I located my shoe and joined up with the bull on the return.
I've never seen such terror and joy on the faces of little kids. Their parents were even more entertaining. It was so much fun. Lee got a great video of it and we were thrilled. And then we made our way home. I don't have a good photo - it was too dark.
One last thing, if you can imagine. SpecK has been developing a magical kingdom this entire trip with a magical Pegacorn - a Pegasus unicorn hybrid. What is the first thing she sees? A big Pegacorn balloon. Constant begging. I told her I'd buy it when we left. So, there we are, in the big, very crowded, Plaza del Castillo, buying a big, baby blue Pegacorn balloon, and dragging it all the way back to the hotel. It bumps into people in the breeze. Lee holds it by the tag for a bit. Then the Tween, kinda done with the whole thing (it's 10:45, too many people, too much stink), puts the thing under her arm like a baguette and takes it back to the hotel. HA!
We have a 5:30 a.m. start kiddos, so time for bed.
PS - This is a shout out to all the single ladies (or not) and my Fairy Gaybrothers (JJ and CC)... I told Lee, "We need to spend 7 weeks in Spain. I could burn out my camera battery in a nano second taking pics of all the hawt men here.... you know, pics for my Fairy Gaybrothers. Hahahahaha!" Ummm, no seriously... there was no shortage of head-turning, brake tapping, fanning yourself like meemaw in a Baptist church in Lousiana in August - you get it - shoot! Hey JJ - this one's for you!
No comments:
Post a Comment