La Tomatina Video

Not my video but yes, I was somewhere in the middle of that.

Tomatoes

Lots of them.
They were up to my calves.

I confess,
afterwords I did have a bloody mary.

I was right by the truck when it unloaded tomatoes on the street.
To borrow a phrase:
All my Christmases came at once.

Granted, at certain memorable moments it felt like getting smacked in the face by a bunch of head circling... rubberchicken weilding stars.
Look right?
incoming left.

But it didn´t matter.
I was in a tomato fght.. a big one.
And I was a tomato weilding fiend.

I didn´t get the ham, fans...
sorry to say
the opertunity hath not presented itself.

But nobody else got it either(which makes me feel better).
The trucks interrupted things.

Crawling toward you...
Accesible first
by the ketchup laden screams of delight
somewhere that way.
The space just above the carpet of heads erupts in pulp ridden catastrophe.
A mist of tomato juice stretches the length of the street
hovering over fruit slinging limbs.
Jostling erupts,
nostalgia.
Taiwanese night markets
Franklin Street bonfires.
Riots.
A mass of juiced bodies swaving... stagger... like red tide.
Only one hour... a collective breath out,
release...
The locals hose everyone down on the way out.


the night before, I slept in the park.
but on a tarp
provided by the Italian fellas.

it reminded me of a music festival crammed into a tiny town square.
Everyone just crashed on the ground.
True to tent village form,
mass-contributed entertainment was born and did blossom and we became a small house.
acrobats and games.

Somewhere in between playing kings´s cup with the Italians, drinking with the hitchiking Poles (nicknamed "tarzan" and "shorty"), ... and wandering the streets of Barcelona with a pierced Swede....
I witnessed yet again, proof that
Connecting conquers
when it comes to humanity.
Different cultures can be savy.
This I know...
they can.

I wish I could tell all the details..
I broke my toe attempting to breakdance barefoot.
No biggie,
all you can do is tape it anyway.


I camped for free, when I shoulda paid.
drank redwine and cola.
scammed friends into the disco.
learned how to bowl for cricket.
got confident and jipped another campsite.
watched kite surfers swarm like gulls.
I strutted scars and traded tales with the most random grab bag of nomads you can imagine.


My European leg is coming to an end.
I gave it a good salut.

La Tomatina

Two days away from La Tomatina.
I am very excited!
Today the campsite will fill with Aussies part of an organized trip package for the festival.
Translation: 300 drunk Aussies and Kiwis are on the way.
Tonight the celebration begins... and tomorrow I head to the small town of Bunol, where the festival will take place.
The night before, the entire town drinks in the streets. I am only taking an extra shirt so I can just pass out in the park that night.
The next morning will kick off with the climbing of the greased up pole, for the hamleg at the top.
As I mentioned...
I want it.
And then come the trucks full of tomatoes which everyone throws at everyone else for exactly one hour.
I will try to buy a waterproof (or rather tomato proof) camera to record the days events.
Promises to be a good time.

Campsite Summer Nights

Shout out to my long lost Aussie childhood buddy, Adam Jenson.

My two Italian friends and me... drinking Mate (an Argentinian drink similar to tea but different from anything else you have ever tried) and whiskey under the stars.

A few random videos

Throughout my recent walking, and waiting, I started playing with the video function on my camera... doing short interviews.

Here are a few.

Sorry about the second one, I accidentally hit nightview, but I pass some old drunk spaniards that you can just barely see.

Oh where oh where to sleep

The past few days have been somewhere between a whirlwind and a clusterfuck.

I left Figueres a day later than I planned.

On the day I planned, I got to the bus terminal to get my big pack out of the locker.
Bus terminal closed.

A short beg routine later, I am let in and thankfully retrieve my things.

But its just started.

Nate misread the arrivals for the departure trains and got himself stuck with no hostel for a night.

The first night search is on.

So help myself to a little 2km hike to the campsite where I sleep on the ground for 5 euros.

Have been making a habit of counting pennies lately.

Next day I make it to Barcelona and then grab a second train to Valencia.

True to form every single hostel in the city is completely full.

Unbeknownst (sp?) to me, the city was in the middle of a huge Formula 1 rally or race or something.

After hiking all over the city looking for a Pension or a bar with a room ... a hostel worker finally rescues me and finds me a room.

Granted it was the equivalent of 45 bucks, a bit steep, but I really didn't want to sleep in the park with my passport and creditcards on me (shoulda left them in the locker).

That night was hot, very hot... humid room, no fan, no breeze... I had to sweat it out, using a damp towel to cool off, periodically throughout the night.

Next day was a search for housing.

Everything was full.

I finally found a campsite 30km out of the city where I am now. Had to hike across the city for the bus to get here.

The campsite wouldn't give me the cheap price for no tent, but I met an Aussie Kiwi pair of rubbers... car camping across europe.

They offered to let me camp on their site further up the road, so tomorrow that's where I'm heading. They're going to La Tomatina as well.

I'm recruiting guys to help me get up the greased pole.

Tradition demands the festival doesn't start until someone gets the leg of ham at the top.

I want it.

But I have to get past the Spaniards that try to pull tourists down.

We'll see how that goes.

This was their drunk finger puppet.

Two other Aussie fellas I met and their tounges ... and the drunk fingerpuppet.

Interview with a drunk fingerpuppet.











The Bull fighting arena in Valencia.





















This is what I wanted to see.


















This was all they had in August. Yeah, this.

Dali Pictures

Teatro Museo

Gold painted figures threaten to jump.

Gala´s rowboat and umbrella sit attop a giant column of car tires in the center of the museum´s main courtyard.










The Persian Queen atop a steamy vine filled car with water dripping from the roof.

The shocking nature of Surrealism´s use of the impossible.

At last, the blank canvas gives up and just as you expected promptly craps itself.

Who ate all the ice cream?













This was painted on a large ceiling.
Dali from below: see the upside down drawers?

Tristan and Isolde

Which image do you see?

I really like this one.

Dali also designed and created Jewelry. This is the Corset Ring... so you, Brittany

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Casa de Dali

Dali´s house from across the bay.








Quiet Reader in the Garden












Dali´s bedroom through a mirror.

There was random stuff like this all over his house.












The Canaray Room.

Fishnet draped slanted walls, this space was very tight. Unfortunately it was roped off. The statue at the top made it hard to fight the temptation to run for it and see what was up there.












The Pigeon Roost

Below the winding staircase was the model´s room where people could relax after posing in the studio.










Lip couch by the pool












Dining Room, complete with Winged Rhinoceros Head








One of Dali´s unfinished pieces left in his studio.








The Beggar and the Michelin Man.

Giant rowboat carcass

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Randoms

Kids cliff diving. I jumped from the point where the blond boy is. The water is on the other side of the closer rocks.













Inside the Church at Cadaques








Tiny alley in Cadaques










The Amazing Pirate Dog







Sunrise over the campsite












Ah... the Mediterranean Sea

Preparing for the leap

Where´s nude Waldo?

Some little piece of architecture in Paris.