Barcelona NomadnessX 2013 Crew in Stadium During Bull Run. Of course two pescitarians myself and Tarmac Jerry start talking about how this goes against us not eating meat... smh! Life Experiences with the Tribe man!
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Sitting on this small area that our ten foot tall windows open up to in Barcelona, red wine sipped at the equivalent of 11:30am in New York City, yet 5:30pm here in Spain. I'm overwhelmed with all this trip has been. My second time to the country, something I'm not known for doing, and an entirely new experience it is indeed.
Barcelona, my love-- I am seduced.
It isn't so much a not wanting to leave, as it is a prepartory gameplan on how to come back on a more permanent basis. I think back to the brief encounter I've had here with a man named Scott. He is Japanese, and unintentionally drawing. I have a little crush- but I digress. He spoke about living all around the world, specifically Cali and NYC, but how Barcelona has been home over the last three years. He used a word I'm used to -- hustle -- in thecontext that one can do so in Barcelona, legally, and live. I'm still a bit skeptical and awe-stricken, but we exchanged information and I look forward to the point where we can chop this up, because I'm seriously giving some things consideration. I'm learning...
I can be calm. I realize more and more the S&M relationship I have with NYC is like a constant assault on my senses, particularly the neighborhood I live in. My stresses are still the same here. I worry about the same things, yet I finda space not to here, and it's much more difficult, on the verge of impossible in the spot I call home.
My paradise involves more than water. About a year ago, a tribe member posted a photo (I want to say) of Maldives and asked where everyone's personal paradises are. I remember writing that the water would grow to bore me day in and day out and that I needed the energy of a city nearby to keep me inspired, creating, and stimulated. My paradise includes culture, street art, wine, attractive human beings, diverse human beings, and water somewhere easily accessible. Well...... in an alleyway close to Placa Reial, I sit writing this post with a glass of red wine, my laptop, and inspiration for a number of posts and status updates to come. I am at my best when creating...like, right now. I am in the middle of my personal paradise, and I don't know what it's supposed to make you feel like, but I have been smiling for no reason a lot. A lot like NYC in the summertime, but not so much in the winter.
My life will consist of three B's. Brooklyn, Bali, Barcelona. I have visited all three-- yet, it's time to live. These will be homes.
Traveling with an ex can be awkward if not checked properly. Again, just a personal observation.
Topless beaches, where thirst is to a minimum, are kind of my thing.
Tattoos create a lust unbareable for me. I was taken by surprise at how dope the ink culture is here. there are tattoo parlours all over the place and the amount of work I've seen done on people is amazing. I see half and full sleeves more than any other tattoo type out here.
Dining in the dark is a LIFETIME MUST DO EXPERIENCE.......but only with the right people. The term, shit gets real comes to mind. Dans Le Noir in Barcelona was absolutely amazing. It's anxiety producing, sensory overload in many ways, as your most dominant one is stripped from you. The emotional state you are brought to when having a conversation, in the dark I feel is rare and unqiue to that specific circumstance and those around you. You must be free and embrace. The fact that the waiters are blind, is such a powerful element to the entire experience. In life, they rely on us. As the host said to us "In the dark, the blind is King. Listen everything they say." And that was the truth. When lining up to go in they say the person with the least amount of fear should go in first. Before I was even able to gauge my level of fear, the Tribe had thrust me to the front. Alex, our waiter, turned around and instructed me to put my hand on his shoulder, as that is how we all walked in, forming a line. When Alex turned aroudn I couldn't help but read his shirt.
"There is no blindness, just ignorance."
That was my silent cry moment, walking in, behind curtain one, then curtain two, into complete (can't see your hand in front of your face) darkness. That, was the beginning...
This trip, these people, this city. Nomadness.
You know it's real when the laughs stop, all the cameras are off, and silence fills the air.
I was petrified, but as the leader of the pack, I felt it was too early to show it. As talks went from our fears, to health insurance numbers, people's smiles turned to nothing, and all I could think about was "Where the f*ck is this bus? It's almost 1am."
I left everyone upstairs in the living room. Eighteen Tribe members, contemplating life, and (again) what I'd gotten them into. Fair enough, this idea was enough to put me over the edge as well. They were told that I was downstairs, on this Madrid street, waiting for our chartered bus. This was a partial truth. The other side to that coin was, the air in the apartment was thick with fear, and I needed the elements of outside to just breathe. I needed to get out and face it on my own.
As the five hour ride shortened, the bus became fidgitty. Those who weren't running, were sound asleep. Those who were running, wide awake. Pacing the bus, stretching, reading the Bible (no bullsh*t), or just staring ahead at the vast lands of Spain, both anticipating and dreading the signs reading 'Pamplona".
We arrived. My body arrived, but it was nearly out of body for me. My mind had fast forwarded about 30 minutes, to envisioning all of us safe and sound in the stadium, unscathed from the bulls.
I didn't realize until a guy we were standing by, from Minnesota, acknowledged that it was a group of us women who were running. Much love to Antoine and Blue for holding down the fellas of the Tribe, but it was a group of right women, who said we're going to do this, and do it together....or so we thought.
PHOTO: Sheila Brown
There are two places on this course that you don't want to get caught up, Dead Man's Curve and the entrance to the stadium. If you get caught up by bulls in one of those two areas, you're fu$%ed. Where we decided to set up shop, ironically was the straight away right before Dead Man's Curve. My strategy, run from my starting point to the beginning of Dean Man's Curve, dip under the fence and off the course, then run through town to get to the stadium. My spirit was good with this plan. I was sticking with it.
About 10 minutes before the run begins, the police gather people into clusters along the course (the sh*t you wish you would have had someone tell you beforehand) and you aren't released until 5 minutes before the first gun shot goes off, to find your spot. There's two shots. The first signaling that the bulls have been released. The second signaling the last bull has left and all are on the course.
Once the crowd was released about four of the seven of us had run through Dead Man's Curve....I stayed back. I wanted to be where I was comfortable. Three of us stook to the plan. Three almost immediately became two, which shortly thereafter became one...me alone on the course. I refused to leave before seeing at least one of these bulls.
First shot rings off.
Ok, sh*t.
Second shot rings off. It is now only a matter of time before I see one of these bulls. I'd been told to estimate around 30 seconds before I see one. This proved to be false. No more than 15 seconds after the second shot rings off, I brace, turn to look behind me and there are grown men, hundreds of them, runnning AT me..HARD. I pick up the pace, and as soon as I go to turn and gauge the crowd behind me again, three bulls, two of them had the light brown/white coat, run right past me to the left. I approach Dead Man's Curve, and right before it, I dipped out underneath the fence, and started my sprint to the stadium, through town.
PHOTO: Sheila Brown
It was the most invigorating 15 seconds of my life. Sex included.
The Tribe made it unscathed and the bond between the runners was palpable in the air. Black people running with the bulls...red card status. Tribe sh!t.
Her response to my itinerary email:
'I can only keep your little toe in the ground ever since you were a baby...Thanks for the info. Please be faster than the bulls in Madrid. Wear your new sneakers that I bought you, and take to the air! Love ya Mom'
(it doesn't get better than this!)
Photo By: Eva Sandorova
There's another Nomad•ness Gal to add to the list of phenomenal ladies already present. Today's shout out goes to a Xianix Barrera.
I first met Xianix in an art class at Iona College. Both 2006 graduates, and full of art lust, we ended up in a number of the same studio classes before getting our diploma. Her talent on a canvas was immediately apparent to the students, and faculty, but her passion for art took another turn. A turn that couldn't be explored in our own Iona classrooms. Xianix was in love with Flamenco dancing.
Years after school we would randomly run into one another. But I really think our relationship changed during one phone conversation. I'd returned from Japan, and she called for advice on moving abroad. Nerves were kicking in, approaching what would be the first of many trips she'd be taking to Sevilla, Spain to perfect her craft. MUST check out the video posted below of her in action.
This love of Flamenco fuels her traveling, an awe dropping personal weight loss initiative, and the entrepreneurial spirit that led her to open up her own New York City Flamenco Group, Sabor Flamenco.
"I had no idea that the one decision to take a Flamenco class on January 8th, 2005 would change my life forever. I found my calling, my passion, and my dream. I was told that I must get myself to Spain to truly understand what Flamenco is all about. Through extremely hard work (holding down three jobs, working seven days a week, for three months after graduation) and sacrificing my summer, I got myself to Spain for a month in 2006. I’ve since gone to Spain every two years for 3-4 months at a time. Immersing myself in the tradition and lifestyle of Flamenco. That which cannot be taught in the US, that which can only be experienced at the root of its creation," she says.
Xianix has visited London, Paris, parts of Morocco, Madrid, Barcelona, Granada, Jaen, and Sevilla Spain.
"My travels started in 2005 when I went to London for spring break. I remember being amazed by the round-trip ticket price of only $300. It was great for me because while everyone was heading south to Cancun, I was heading east for a bargain. I loved it so much I went back the following year. That first experience with traveling outside my bubble of Washington Heights (NY) opened me up to the world that is out there. The world that I thought I’d never get to experience myself."
Asia, I love you.
You have done me well over the last year and a half. After this trip, I must leave you indefinitely.
Africa is calling.
Morocco, I'm coming...2011
It is time...
Brainstorming on a 3-week trip between Morocco, Egypt, and Spain. When will it be done?
