The never-ending sounds of far-off explosions echo off the surrounding buildings, while firecrackers shoot across the street bouncing off curbs and nearby cars, leaving a trail of sparks and screams that whizzes through the crowd scurrying to get out of the projectile’s path.
I think I must have died somewhere along the train ride to San Sebastian, because when I woke up I found myself in culinary heaven.
The crowd’s cheers echoes around the stadium, a vendor walks up and down the rows of seats selling snacks and drinks, and a man yells out, “finish him!!” as the sound of drums and trumpets signal the last round of play. This isn’t a football match, however, it’s a bullfight.
Last week I took part in the world’s largest and messiest food fight, La Tomatina. Seven days on and I still find the occasional sneaky tomato seed in various cavities of my body.
Last month I jumped out of a plane and plummeted to the ground with my best friend. This week I jump onto a plane which will safely take me to a place without any friends. I’m not sure which is more terrifying.