The gorgeous disaster that encierro was came and went as swift as the raging wind.

A moment can mean nothing and everything at the same time. It can be a complete lie or truer than the truth. It wasn't until Pamplona that I realized this. The beauty in the moment is simply indescribable. The moment is forever yours, sealed in your soul as a personal experience that you can hold away from everyone else evermore. For just that brief beautiful fucking moment time no longer exists. Your worldly possessions, achievements, worries, and concerns suddenly mean nothing.
Lawyer? What the fuck is a lawyer? Who was that girl last night? What girl? What the fuck is a girl? It's you and the bulls, and you better be ready to run like hell. You're standing at the tollbooth of the birds of prey. The dogs of sleep and sick have your ticket, and they've come to claim what's theirs. It's not a fucking joke. People die doing this.

The running, I'm told, only lasted for a minute at most. It could be a moment or it could be an eternity. One slip, one push from anyone, and one horn from one panicked and enraged bull will put a swift end to your already brief corporeal existence. The bulls will turn you into a limp marionette faster than you can blink. You don't realize this until you're in the streets with thousands of others and those bulls turn the corner and face you head on. And those fuckers are not small.

I thought it might be like sex for the first time, or skydiving, or some other rush like that. It wasn't. It was better. Much better. It may have been the most beautiful moment I'll ever live. So far that's the truth, an

d I'm not sure if I can top it.

Knowing that, in my early 20s, I followed a dream I'd had since my early teens, stared down the hounds of hell, and emerged victorious, alive, and glorious is the most courageous thing I think I've ever done. I hope that my future ghost remembers the young man I once was, for I don't think I've ever been so fucking proud. May my young spirit never fade and may the warm winds of fortune guide me on my wayward path.

The fact that I did it with my friend Dylan, whom I met the semester I returned from Australia, makes it even more real, because he had his own separate experience, yet we will forever share the memory. It's the unwavering things in life like this that really make a man who he is.

Dylan and I have an interesting friendship.

From the first night we met we got along, and shortly thereafter I came to learn that Dylan is 27, is a successful actor in Hollywood films and TV series' who now wants to finish his college degree, and has more success with women than just about anyone else I've met. And the guy doesn't just rely on his looks. He knows the fucking game.

Funny how you make your friends sometimes. It just...happens. Dylan's got a lot of good life advice due to his years of experience that he has on me, and I appreciate his advice. I've already learned a lot from him, and he seems happy to teach me. I also like to think I can hold my own, and our exploits together seem to support that. Of course, it's never a 100% thing, otherwise it wouldn't be the game that it is.

I'll finish Spain in another post. Pamplona gets its own. Pamplona is eternal.

Denmark: The Centre Pin of Scandinavia

I'm breaking up, for the gravity's won (before it snaps where the warm blood runs...)

My time in Denmark came and went faster than any country previously visited. It started with an overnight train from Amsterdam through Hamburg, and into København. The German and Danish border controls both woke me up at one point or another throughout the night, and the blonde Danish girls next to me spoke great English but chose to break into Danish often, and their looks, smiles, and giggles towards me after nearly every sentence made me wish I'd gotten their numbers.

Unfortunately, my time in Denmark was on the strictest schedule yet, for I was to attend the Danish Atlantic Youth Seminar (DAYS). DAYS was held on a Danish airbase in Åalborg, in northern Denmark.

I met a great deal of like minded political science and IR majors from all over East/West Europe, the US and Canada, and even Russia and Georgia. I also learned a good amount of things I didn't know about the EU and NATO from Danish, British, German, and many other professors and experts, as well as from my peers.

To the right you can see David Cole, British Journalist, and Mogens Skødt, the Danish legend and organizer of DAYS and the founder of the project, walking through an old viking graveyard in the light rain.

Åalborg is a bit of a dreamy city, with a central church, many beautiful old examples of architecture, and at the same time a lively shopping center where I was able to buy some cheap clothes for the warmer part of my journey.

Denmark also has better weather than the other Scandinavian countries I'd visited. Maybe that's why the Danish are so damn friendly and happy? At any rate, the girls were just about as pretty as all the other Scandinavian ones, though for some reason Norwegian girls were still my favorite, which is a claim I can't really crystallize and explain unfortunately. Maybe it's just something about their style of dress. I dunno. There was a good sale in the city, so I picked up some bright Scandinavian clothes and was then on my way.

But there were many pretty girls in the DAYS group, so the Danish girls on the street weren't really in my attention for very long. The Danish girls themselves were quite pretty and friendly, though they weren't able to take things as lightly and carelessly as the other participants during the social activities and free time as they had to organize the events. All business. Here are some pictures of our lovely Danish organizers. First Alina on the bus organizing something or another-- I can't remember what exactly it was.

I'm sad I didn't have more time to hang out in Denmark and see København more. But at the same time I knew that I had to grab a plane down to Spain and meet up with Dylan to run with the bulls. Plus, I had a good feeling that Spain was going to win the world cup, and I would make it to Barcelona just in time to see them beat the Dutch. Turns out I was right, and Barcelona blew up and things went insane, but that's for my next post...

Holland

My time in Holland came and went much faster than I'd ever expected it to. I was greeted at the airport by Fleur, who was one of my best and first friends while I was in Australia. She hasn't changed much in the 6-7 months it's been since I've seen her, and she has a wonderful apartment with some friends at Marnixstraat 417 in central Amsterdam.

I spent the first few days getting to know her friends. The Dutch guys were really nice and had humors similar to mine.

We spent the first evening BBQing, joking around, and talking about America and Holland, and the various stereotypes assigned to our respecti

ve countries. Their English is truly exceptional in Holland, and they were quite comfortable speaking in English. It was a nice change from the week I spent where Finnish dominated the conversations and I had absolutely no idea whatsoever as to what was going on.

I spent the rest of the week exploring Amsterdam and taking in the sites and walking throughout picturesque little Amsterdam.

One day I went with Fleur's friend Emma to buy groceries and she drove me around on the back of her bike.

It

was a truly Dutch experience. Here Emma and I are sitting at a table at a beach cafe, pondering life.

After all the BBQs and meeting friends, Friday hit and it was time for the World Cup game against Brazil. Nobody thought Holland was going to win. I mean NOBODY.

But, as it turns out, Holland did knock out the #1 ranked team, Brazil. The Dutch went crazy and exploded into pandemonium in Amsterdam. It meant a great deal of partying, national pride, and blaring car and scooter horns.

After the madness in the city of Amsterdam came to a close, Fleur took me further out to the Dutch countryside. We drove to a touristy spot with windmills, and also to her parents house, which is near Haarlem, which is a place that Harlem, NY gets its name from, as old as the once named 'New Amsterdam.'

Holland was a lot of fun. I learned many cool Dutch words, and already knew some good Dutch words, such as 'lekker.' The canals and trees of Amsterdam truly make the city unique, and 3 level bike racks along with the fact that bikes truly do rule the streets made the city only more charming to me.

Holland is truly a unique and beautiful place, and a surprising amount of the country is actually below sea level. The Dutch for centuries have used an elaborate system of hydro engineering through windmills and various levels of water drainage to claim a large portion of their own land from the sea.

A place like Amsterdam in the summer, which had perfect weather for the entire time I was there, with wonderful cafes, cyclists cheerily riding by, an active yet not quite busy city life, and Dutch youth meeting on bikes for BBQs in the park, and then later in pubs for a good night out, makes me promise that I'll come back to Holland, if only for a little while.

With that, I was off to Denmark, as quickly as I came, on the overnight train through Germany.

Finland Pt 2, Estoniap

If anyone would like to text or call Kirsi for me and apologize on behalf of me for not contacting her because my phone ran out of credit please do so +358407709570. Also thank her for the Fanta first thing in the morning. She is 24 and lives in Helsinki, so if you are there maybe she will show you around. Who knows.

So that brings us to Juhannus, which is the Midsummer Holiday in Finland. It consists of rampant drinking in cottages in the woods (preferably near lakes), going into the Sauna, and generally just relaxing and having a good time. One thing I noticed about the Finns was the way their eyes darken when they speak of the winter. I think they share the melancholy mood towards it that the Russians have. Their Scandinavian neighbors in Sweden, Denmark, and Norway all seem to deal with the Winter just fine and often mention that they certainly prefer the Summer, but don't seem to be bothered by the winter as much.

Juhannus was...interesting. Half of the time the Finns were speaking their strange language so I had no idea what was going on and half of me wished I had taken a three day trip to St Petersburg, where I would b

e equally as oblivious to what was going on but also visiting a country that fascinates and also scares most Americans. But in the end as I look back I'm happy htat I stayed with the Finns and experienced Finnish countryfolk who gav

e us

directions, drank with the guys and joked around with them, and just had a good time unwinding and not worrying about making meetings or gathering research information.

One night I fell asleep a bit early but the Finns kept drinking and some of them came into my room and kept talking. I woke up with a g

irl I'd just met next to me in bed chatting, and I can't for the life of me remember her name. She left briefly to sleep on the floor and, being the gentlemen I am, I offered her to rejoin me in my bed. Surprisingly enough, she obliged and climbed into bed with m

e. Before I knew it, she began kissin

g me, asking me about California, and asking if I had a number so that we could meet up later in Espoo, a Finnish suburb outside of Helsinki where she lives. She told me she was 25, which is now the third time a Finnish girl is much older than she looked and acted and also the third time I've found out after we've been intimate. What is it with these women...?

I didn't really get a good picture of the bed girl but here is a picture of her lying in my bed...again...the morning after. She is blocked by the girl in black but you can kind of see her cheek I guess?

So Juhannus came to an end and I spent the next few nights stayi

ng with Emmi at her parent's house. It only took a week to realize the girl is still really having trouble settling back into life and letting go of Australia. She isn't happy with her job, isn't particularly excited or happy to be back, doesn't seem to ever truly be happy, and I have to admit she isn't the brilliant shining girl I met in Australia. I did my best to console her and help, but what can I really do? I can't even save myself from such things when they happen, let alone a foreign girl from a far away land. I even offered to cuddle on the last night, and meant it innocently, though looking back on what cuddle used to mean that might have been misconstrued, and it didn't go down very well. At first I thought I might say something and try to justify it or defend myself, but then I realized that tomorrow I would be boarding a plane for Holland and would likely never see her again anyway, so I just brushed my teeth and went to bed. If chivalry is dead, women have indeed killed it.

Oh and I took a day trip to Estonia, where I had a great time in the beautiful old part of the town. A great view from the terrace and the breathtaking church were inspiring. Still, the day trip was all I needed in little Tallinn and I was ready to head back to Finland and then fly to Amsterdam the day after.

So there I continued, with new experiences with new friends and lovers, and confirming that all the calls, messages, facebook chats, and things I otherwise began to disregard midway through my time in Australia were for the best. This time I said my goodbye and walked away from Emmi at the airport, with her continuing on about keeping in touch on facebook and saying bye many times as people often do. Goodbyes have never been my style, but at least this time I wasn't leaving her standing in the hallway of the RMIT village next door to where I live with her staring at me as if I was the only thing in the world as I made excuses for why I couldn't call her as I went upstairs to go spend the evening with my current love interest at the time. Plus I think she was pretty sick of me invading her life in Finland anyway. Regardless, I love the girl to death and owe her so much for planning such a great time in Finland for me.

Holland will be in the next post.