Running with bulls is definetely not as safe as running with scissors

Today has been one of those insanely epic days that maybe comes along once a year, and that is if you're lucky. Lets round all this out one thing at a time shall we....

First. Today we went to Arles, France. Not only is there where Van Gogh lived for many years, his crazy years, there is an ancient Roman amphitheatre still being used, and what its being used for is bullfighting. So, that is like the appitizer to a meal that just grows and grows.

The Bull Fight. This was interesting because the bulls really do get killed in this event. I've never really seen anything like this before, but after reading some literature describing the cultural reasons for doing this, how much the bull fighters respect the bull, that all of the bull is used as food, and that the killing is done in as quickly as possible. An experienced bullfighter can do it instantly. I saw six bull fights today, it was crazy.

Running with the Bulls. Yes!, I did run with the bulls! The goal here was to try to stop the bull in the street. So, instead of running ahead of them you run behind it and try to catch the bull. I ran and hurdled over some people who fell and grabbed its side. Both arms around the side of bull with like 15 other guys all being dragged down the street. It was awesome except for getting poop on my pants and hand.

There were also amazing buildings we visited. An ancient cemetary, bath, church, square, and the collesium.


Here is the icing on the cake though. When we got back to the bus to leave a little car was blocking our way. So what did we decide to do? Duh, we picked it up and moved it out of the way. Jay and I and like seven gypsy men moved this car by picking it up. After this one of the gypsy's demanded ten euro from me and i was like no!, i picked up the car too. We yelled a little bit then he went away. We drove home and dinner never tasted so good.
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