T Diddy :: Your Friendly Black Dentist

Aqui hay agunos photos de mis ulimos dias en Salamanca y la famili que fue mi familia durante 3 meses alli. Tambien, hay photos de los monumentos de Sevilla. Todo puedo decir es que Woo! Woo! Solamente es para la decoración! Woo Woo! (Here are some photos of my last days in Salamanca y that the family that was my family during the 3 months there. Also there are photos of the monuments of Sevilla.)

Last days in Salamanca and the sights of Sevilla

I am starting to like Sevilla. It is one of the many cities of the world that has that umph! There is something magical in the air here. I do not know what it is, but I do know that it has it. The people are friendly and very animated. I may be feeling this way only because I had a good night last night. The night started with a Intercambio. This is where I call a person of a list that is posted in my school so we can talk about 1 hour in Spanish and 1 hour in English. Last night was my second time doing it in as many nights. It is a good experience because you practice with a native speaker. Additionally, you are exposed to the real life of Spain. I get tired of the same old turist and foreigner scene. It gets really old and I hate turists because they suck. Anyway, I met my chica for intercambio (I only do intercambio with ladies because why not?). We talked for a while and then her friends came by (another reason for intercambio). We all went to see Flamenco in this plaza. All I can say that is was Sick! Off the Heezie! Jeah Foo! Tight! Dude, Far out! It is completely different that what I heard before. But it was sick because it seemed a little spontaneous. The guitar player and the singer feel each other out during the songs. Just sick! I wanted say, "Jeah, Do it! Do it! Do it!". But, I am in Spain so I was yelling "Ole" like a mofo and a tourist. Apparently the singers where really famous in Sevilla and I got lucky to see them.

After Flamenco and my intercambio, I met up with these fools from Auburn. Cool cats. We went to this bar and I saw the Stif Mister! Yes! Yes! Yes! Stifler from American Pie was in the joint chilling pulling all the stupid American girls. I did not say a damn word because he is not important to me, but nontheless, it was the man. I also saw some more Flamenco, but this time there was some dancing. The woman was so fine! This really concluded my night. I did not do much, but the experience was fantastic. I guess you have to be here to feel it and understand. It will be more off the hook if I can find a party like the party in the opening scene in Mission Impossible 2. This is the mission for this weekend.

No real news to report except that it is hot, and baby, I am sizzling. After 3 months of fierce weighlifting (the first time in 2 years), I am now ready to fend of the bulls. Yes, I leave Thursday night to meet my friends. We set forth to Pamplona Friday morning for a poco de fiesta. We will also make are final preperations and gameplan tactics to survive the challenge. I basically doing the run for the rush, the stories I can tell to all the fools out there when I return and to tell the grandkids that their grandpa has grande cojones.

San Fermines

3 things are on my mind right now. I am feel that I need to express them before I go crazy.

1. Mark is one of my better friends of this world, but sometimes he can really be a dumbshit. He made me upset with his post from July 9th about thugs. He selects 4 people, who are black and not really intelligent, from a large group of lovely folk to make a point about thugs. He is flawed in many areas, but I supposed it is not fault of his own. One, he has no sense of fashion. He does not seem to understand the fashion changes with time. For example; headbands, jerseys, and baggy jeans are in (or at least they were before I left). They are not cloths of thugs. Hell, they are not cheap and it takes some soul to wear these. Mark is still living in the 80s and wearing plad with his khaki chinos. Also, he tends to believe the hype from all the movies and new programs that all people of color are gangsters. I contend that these are not the true gangsters of the world. I can name a million more people who are white who pimped the world with their thuggish attitude than you can with all people of color combinded. My friend, is not a hater nor is he blind, but I think he is having a relapse from me and my boy Neal not being around to put him in check. Or he is just doing this the get a rise out of me and Neal. If this is the case, then he has suceeded.

2. I do not like my Spanish class in general. There are 3 people who I cannot stand. One homeboy repeats everything and then nods like he knows the material. Then repeats it again in a sentence really fast to prove that he is indeed the true Spanish master. Hombre numero dos, talks too much and has a answer for everything. He does not have the concept of sharing time. I suppose than he is making them most of his monen, but it does not help that he has a squeeky ass voice. I just want to slap him to put a little muscle in the voice. Then there is the young chica. She is Miss Know-It-All and also has a answer for every thing. She also enjoys correcting people to show the world that she may be the Spanish Master by the amount she knows. It may be that today was bad because I could not sleep last night because of the blistering heat. Regardless, I want these people to go. In the meantime, I will continue to make my jokes and mispronounce my words like I do in English.

3. Today the adventure begins. I hop on the train a 7 PM from Sevilla to Madrid. I will meet Hank and Jeff at 10 PM at the Plaza Mayor in Madrid. We will grab some grub and catch up since the last time we saw each other. Then in the morning at 7:15, we catch a train for Pamplona. I am getting pumped up. Each morning they show the bull run at 8 AM on channel 1. This is going to be a weekend that I can tell my friends, wife, kids, and grandkids about. This will also be a bond that us 3 will share for a lifetime. I pray that all 3 of us makes it out of Pamplona alive and in good shape. If you do not here from me by Tuesday, please know that I love you all and that I went out without any regrets. One love and Viva San Fermine.

I sit today at a internet cafe in Sevilla alive. Thanks to the grace of God. Yes, I said the Grace of God. During this weekend, the running of the bulls was not the most dangerous part. In fact, the running has nothing in common with the type of danger that presented itself.

The adventure in Pamplona began at 11:30 am on Friday morning. This after a night that did not sleep because Hank, Jeff and I stayed up talking catching up with each other lives and gossiping about other people that we know. Tired, we immediately checked into the hotel, Maisonave, which is center in the heart of Pamplona. We rested up because the night was going to be one of many crazy events because there where tons of people everywhere in the red and white garb laying in the streets, drinking, sleeping, and talking. We needed sleep.

The first thing that we did was scope out the street that the bulls run. We then finalized out strategy. It changed a little because the street was uphill. The plan was simple. We were going to start halfway down the street, lightly jog until the bulls come, and then do what ever it takes to not get ran over, but also get into the arena. The plan was set, the night passed calmly, and we went to bed around 2 am in order to be rested for the run at 8 am.

Rising at 6:45, I begin to get the butterflies. I though to myself, "What the hell am I doing? I do not want to go out like this. However, I did not come here to just watch and I am not going home to tell people I was HERE, but I did not run." We entered the street that is closed off to the other streets by builds and fences. There was no turning back. The butterflies were very big at this point, but I had to run. The adreline was kicking, but I had to wait 30 more minutes before they let the bulls run. I had plenty of time fighting the butterflies as I battled the crowd for position and not to get pushed over as the shoved. It was a scene that was loco. These fools where singing and smiling. I was bouncing up and down as I became more prepared to handle my business than Holyfield on fight night. About 10 minutes before the horn, the policia allowed us to take our positions. Then suddenly the horn blew and bulls were loose. We started to jog uphill, battling for position trying like hell to stay away from the middle. I was running like Walter Payton, applying forearms and straigtarms because I was not going to get in the middle or fall over a slow fool. I may be stupid for running, but I am not dump when it comes to execution. Hell, they were coming and I could feel it. People started moving to the side, panicing, and screaming. I had to hurdle piles of people that fell, I had to fight off a damn good forearm from a policeman that took me off guard. At this point, I was pumped and executing a dribble drive down the lane. All I needed to do now was finish with a monster jam. However, I rounded the final corner that lead to the entrance of the arena. The bulls were close, but I did not know how close. The plan was to run at the side of the bulls and then get behind them as they ran into the plaza. I had to decide whether to slow down or take off running full speek down the middle of the entrance. The later is the most difficult because the entrance is narrow and there is not room to dodge the bull. During my dribble drive, I decided to take it hard down the middle for a Charles Barkley gorilla dunk. I was running faster than I have ever ran before. I had about 5 feet left and I took a hard left to get to the side of the arena and not be ran over by the bull. After I cleared the entrance I looked over my shoulder and there was the bull entering as I ran some fool over. After screaming one of my sayings, "Jeah!", I realized that that bull was on my butt and that I was more of a man for running in front of the bull than on the side. All I can say is that the running was a rush that will be hard to beat.

The running was not over. My friend Ben told me that they let out calves so the people can play and chase it around. Well, in front of a packed house they let out the "baby bull" to the crowd that just ran. Well, these was no baby. This was bull. It had horns, the snort, and the charge like a regular bull. The only difference was that it was half the size, about 400 lbs, and it had caps on the horns so the people would not get stuck. This was more dangerous than the bullrun. The evidence is from the asian man that got trample and had to be carried out by the people, unconcious, slobbering, and with a nice purple hoof mark on his forehead. They let out about 5 bulls in 1 hours time. The first bull was going crazy. It was running towards me and I broke out. It came again and I gave it a hard fake left and went right. I even ranover another dude. I was doing whatever it took not to get ran over. After 2 bulls, I was done and resiged to the sideline behind the wall. I was not going to get ran over by baby bull and not the real thing.

The run was amazing. It was the biggest rush ever. Was it crazy? Yes, but I did it with intelligence and it was all worth it. I would not take it back and now my wife, kids, grandkids will have a husband, dad, and grandpa that ran in front of a charging bull in Pamplona. That is sick!

Overall Pamplona is okay. It is a party that I am happy that I experience, but I would never go back. During the party, people drink all day. Yes, I mean 24 hours. People are drunk wondering the streets, making out, and they continue to drink past there limit. The town of 200,000 caters to more than 1 million people on the weekends. This weekend was not exception. The first day of fiesta is fun. It is new and you are just in awe of the number of people, the singing in the streets, the stages for music, bands marching in the street, and people sleeping in the street. However, it got old real quick. I imagine that this party is similiar to a Mardi Gras. I have never been, but I bet this is worst. After I got over the awe, I noticed the trash in the streets and became tired off the piss oder that resides in ever street. The people would drink so so so so much, they would piss anywhere. On the building, out windows, street corners, apartment entries, and the middle of the crowd at the beginning of the bullrun. The did not care who was watching or if a family was walking by. What is more disgusting is that people would sit down on these streets and would eventually pass out from drinking too much on the streets. It was common that you had to walk over somebody in the street because they were passed out. Many people do not get hotel rooms. Instead they sleep on any grass they can find, street corners or benches. They where the same cloths for the 2 or 3 days and when you mix in body funk and piss, it makes for one nasty smell. By Saturday night , it was too much and I was looking forward to the train ride home.

Satisfied with my experience, we checked out of our hotel about 12:15 (very important time), checked in our bags with the hotel, and vetured off for food. When we returned to get our bags, the entire block was blocked off by the police. We could not get our bags. I tried to talk to the police to tell them that we had a train to catch and our bags were in our hotel. He angryly told me, "no." I was mad at first by his tone, but later I understood. The time was about 4:30 and the train left at 6:00. We were not sure if they would open up area in time and the last thing we wanted to do was stay another night in the piss infested streets of Pomplona. Well, they did open the area and we did catch our train, but only because it was not my time to go. Go where? Perish. Die. Be blown the hell up. Come to find out, there was an active bomb in our Hotel. It was in the ladies room in the first floor and the paper called said the bomb was of, "Gran potencia!" Translation, there would even find chunks of me if it went off. The hotel recieve 2 communications from the ETA terriorists. ETA, thanks for being kind of enough to call. The first was before noon. The time when we were waking up and packing our bags. The secone was at 12:25. Only 10 minutes after we checked out. I could not believe it. It would have sucked if I would have died from a terrorist bomb in Pamplona and not by horn of a bull. Luckly, they diffused the bomb, we caught our train, and I am able to write this lengthly recap.

I am amazed everytime I travel from the close encounters I have with my life. I am not sure that my friends will want to travel with me in the future. Who knows what will happen next time. So my life continues, the plan of returning to NYC is still in tact, and I can play fantasy football this year. Pictures will be posted soon if I can remove the loaf in my shorts.

Maisonave Bomb Article

Excuse the grammer mistakes, I did not edit my entry.

Here are the photos from the Pamplona trip. Do not trip on the tired eyes because I fitted in. Also, I know my gear is tight. I may have to break it out in the NYC. As you enjoy the picture please be reminded that the Lakers are the illest B-Ball team ever. I guarantee that they will win it all next year with the Glove and the Mailman. Not to mention Mad Dawg and Crazy Walton. Respect the power Snow Monkey!

Pamplona Photos
Pamplona Videos

This past weekend I headed down to the most Southern tip of Spain. Tarifa, a little windsurfing Mecca of the world, sits between the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. I went to down to continue the adventures and meet up with the fool I met in Salamanca. Joost is his name, but I call him Crazy Joost. Every English phrase he says is from a movie. However he is mostly quotes Pulp Fiction. I arrived on Friday evening and we immediately just walked around the small streets, check out the beach, and looked at Morocco, which is across the Straight of Gibraltar. Tarifa is small and full of people who are fanatical about windsurfing and Kite surfing. I am not fully interested, but it was interesting to see the culture. I actually was kind of funny seeing all the European Surfer Doods.
The weekend was tranquilo. It passed by with me taking strolls the streets, sitting on the beach, occasionally getting my feet wet in the water, eating some good food, and having a brew while watching the people during the night. I must say that I am losing my touch. I cannot handle the late nights with the suds. I think it may be another a sign that I am getting old. I hope not. I hope it is only because I cut way back to save money. That is to say that I cannot handle the suds because I am one cheap hombre. I do not want to spend $3 for a bottle of beer. That is way to expense. The weekend ended with only one hitch. One that is not small. I left my Passport at the Hostal where I slept. I am not worried about the passport because Joost picked it up for me, but I either have to have him mail it to me or travel back down there this weekend. I don’t trust the mail here and it gives me all the reason to go to Morocco now. It looks like Africa will be seeing this fool.

My random thoughts from the past few weeks.

Sick of these fools staring at me. I could not be famous because I cannot handle it. Is it because I big, black, bald and beautiful. All I know it that this don't happen in LA

I will miss the opening day of NFL. This sucks! It is one of the best days of the year. Go to the bar to eat wings, drink brew, and watch ball. Of course, it is with the boys. Thoughs like this make me want to go home.

5 months of studying spainish is a long time. I am at a point where I need to get away from students and live deep in the campo with natives. Need to improve the thinking and talking capacity in Español. Students speak too much english. To become totally fluent, maybe 1 year living in the country.

Spain is nice, but I am learning it is a little closed. I am a little different in the States, but a lot here. They know it and the act on it. Although, they are really friendly.

Host Families in Spain are only about the money. They will be sure to ensure there margin. I have horror stories. A package arrived for me in Salamanca. I am now in Seville. The family said they would send it to me. Little did I know they would send it COD. I would never do that to somebody. It is just rude in my eyes.

Looking forward to traveling Europe. It is that I am tired of studying and living in Spain. It is a nice vacation or break from my life, but I am actually living in Spain. It is not a vacation. I am ready to roam around, experience differnent things, see some faces I know, get away from bland Spanish food, and be active.

Thought about returning to Spain in November to study more. It is not likely. I think I will be ready for NYC by then. I will only extend to continue backpacking

Spainish women are very attractive, but....or shall I say BUT, they are impossible to get to know. They almost seem to lack a little bit of passion.

I need to meet some people my own age. Nice people are here, but they are young (18-22). I would like to talk about some mature things.

My fantasy football team will be tight as hell this year! I am going for the 2nd championship.

I am now in Granada for the weekend. It is a nice city near the coast of Spain. However, I broke one of my own tips of traveling. I traveled here with 8 others; 2 other guys and 6 women. Lets just say that it is very difficult to eat and do things. I was sick of people being indecisive about eating and I stopped at Arabic fastfood joint. It was off the hook and the next thing I know, all the fools are grubbing. I also managed to escape the group tourist mess by saying I am tired. I am headed to the hostal to get some sleep, but I wanted to get the lasted on the fantasy football news. Not to mention, if they have freed Kobe yet. I new better than to travel with so many people. Damn!

Granada was a good time. It is was a nice city, but it is nothing special. It is like every Spanish city. There is some kind of Castle and definitely a Cathedral. And let me tell you that every Cathedral in each town is more precious than the next. I am definitely impressed with them because our finest doesnot compare, but I will not go out of my way to see one again.

It was hot this weekend. Too hot in fact. I was dying. I think Dusty Baker was just talking mess when he said that Black people are made for heat. Maybe we are, but my white side is hurting me in this area.

I am changing my city again. I am leaving next weekend for Barcelona. Gonna get back to the city life. The school and city are bigger than where I have been. I need some action. It should be fun. This weekend I am off to Morocco. I need to check off another continent from my list.

My dad called me today. I should have know as I was shaken violently from my sleep at 5:00 am in the morning. This is his MO. When I was in college he would call at 7 am, which is a no no in those days. He would wake the entire house up. Yes, I should have know today, but I cannot think in the morning, yet 3 hours after I am awake. What is funny is that he always uses the same excuse. "What time is it there?" he asks. "Dad, I am 9 hours ahead." "Really. It is that much?" He know that I am ahead that much, but it seems to soften the blow when he asks. He does this when I am NYC too. I have always been 3 hours ahead of him. It does not change. He probably even asked me in Cali when I wa in school. But he probably forgot that I he lived in Cali too. It was good to hear from him.

Que Calor! It is so hot here. I am seriously melting. Yesterday, it reached 50 degree celcius. That is 122 degrees in the US. My shoes are melting, I am becoming black, which is transforming my chocolate caramel complection. I can't have that because the ladies love them some chocolate. Seriously, it is too hot to even blink or sleep. It is still over 100 at 3 in the morning. This is not for decoration either. I am happy I am going to Barcelona now. I am in Hell right now.

While sweating my sack off, I saw something weird today. People double park in my neighborhood. Often overnight. I always thought, that I would be made as hell if I woke up and I could not get out of my parking space because some fool double parked beside me. Well, it is not the case in this neighborhood. I saw this fool pushing this care out of the way. Yes, the leave the cars parked with no EM brake applied and in nuetral. When the care is in the way, just push it baby! What a concept. I am not sure if this is a Spanish thing, a Sevilliana thing, or a neighborhood thing, but I do know this would not happen in the US.