T-Shirt farming might be a glamorous profession, but even the most dedicated scout needs the occasional break from its glory and fame. So while HQ was busy not considering my vacation request, I was busy packing a bag for a little nine day cattle drive I heard about just a few days travel from Austin, TX. This event is unique in that it encourages the full participation of novices in the hands-on herding of bulls and steers. No experience necessary. No liability waiver required. And as if one needed extra incentive to participate in such a thing, the hosting town suspends the drinking age for the event and allows the bars to stay open 24hrs. Heaven? Close. Welcome to Where the Sun Also Rises. Greetings from Pamplona, Spain.

No one is exactly sure when this bad idea officially began, but fools have been gladly plunging head-first into its unique form of madness since the 13th or 14th century. I, for one, find comfort in knowing that, despite all we have learned as a species in the last 600 years, the primal need to prove our stupidity to our fellow man can still trump our better judgment.

Indications: Marinate a few thousand people in alcohol. Let simmer in the Spanish sun. When sufficiently pickled, pour mixture into a narrow and sangria stained, cobble-stoned street prior to sunrise. Add two parts fear, one part confusion, thirteen parts horned beast, a pinch of adrenaline and serve without warning. Consume with chaos at a dead sprint.

One can learn a tremendous amount about one’s self in 20 Spanish seconds. And while some of this self knowledge will not be flattering, its truth grants the holder a certain degree of forgiveness and clarity. Knowledge. Truth. Forgiveness. Clarity. This is the stuff of of the first confession—absolution coming on the heels of a stampede.

A brave man died this week on a Spanish street slick with the spoils of celebration. To those watching from the safety of the barricades and flowered balconies, he was just another fool who got what he asked for. I even get the feeling that some here welcomed his fate as it provided the missing justification for a morning spent as a spectator praying for a blood letting, instead of a participant desperately trying to avoid one. I don’t know what it is in man that drives him to choose between these two stations. Risk and venture seems to be our evolutionary mandate. We left the cave, took to the seas and even lassoed the moon. Each of these steps gravid with peril. Maybe it’s the lure of comfort and the false hopes of security that have bent us to the point where we’re more comfortable watching the trials of the world from our couches and behind barricades than from the cobblestones where we expose ourselves to uncertainty and the all-fateful mistake.

The only thing I am certain of is that as humans we will always crave the experience; whether it be our own or the vicarious residue of another’s. The pursuit of love unrequited. The thrill of a death cheated. The unknown turns of an open road. I guess that is why I traveled half way around the world to run scared and why I choose as my profession to wander America. Viewed in their pieces it may appear to some that I am lost, but from a fair distance and with the right kind of eyes one can hopefully see the deliberate design of a life and its purpose: to one day die an interesting man.

From somewhere under the Spanish sun,
Gabe