Running of the Bulls... Madrid Style

We were told that Madrid was the place to be on New Year's Eve, and it was no lie. Every hotel in town was sold out. Ours was on Calle Huertas, in what had to be one of the most lively parts of town. Throngs of people donned silly wigs and hats - long, short, pink, purple, fros, fairies, you name it, you'll find it on some reveller's head. Entrepreneurs from other continents sold party horns, beer and bottles of champagne from makeshift stands on the sidewalk. An endless supply of sangria flowed through the cobblestone streets.

We arrived late on December 30 and immediately left to check out the town. Puerta del Sol. That's where we were supposed to go at midnight on New Year's Eve. We can barely make our way there through the crowds. Everyone is happy, laughing, having a good time... clutching their bottles of champagne and bags of grapes as if it were the 31st. The tradition is to eat one grape for every chime of the bell at midnight on the 31st. "I wonder why people have grapes with them tonight?" Trish says.

"I have no idea."

"Today's the 30th, right?"

"I think so." The bus tickets we used today said December 30. "It has to be" I add, unconvinced. "But you're right that they seem to be getting ready to celebrate."

"Maybe it's a dress rehearsal," Trish says, and we laugh.

"I wouldn't put it past them," I say. "Only in Madrid."

We stop to talk to a guy selling enormous plastic sunglasses for 3 euros a pair. "Why is everyone celebrating tonight?" we ask him.

"Como?" He doesn't understand our dialect.

A group of fashionable Spaniards stop to buy some glasses. "Why is everyone celebrating tonight?" we ask one of them.

"It's a practice," he says.

"Practice?"

"Yes."

"For tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"You mean like a dress rehearsal?"

"Yes, it's a rehearsal for tomorrow."

I look at Trish. "You were right!" And at that very moment, the entire crowd makes a move for the plaza. Some people check their watches as they start trotting. Within moments it's a full on stampede. We look up the street and it's as if all of humanity is galloping towards us. Towards the Puerta del Sol square, in fact, but we happen to be in the way.

"Oh my god," Trish says, "it's the running of the bulls!"

"Come on... it must be almost midnight!" We run with them and make it to the square just in time for the practice dropping of the ball, just in time for the practice music, for the practice cork-popping, grape-eating, happy-new-year-wishing love fest that is New Year's Eve in Madrid.

Only tomorrow it will be even bigger, louder and happier.

Yay! Having left Portugal, we can have swordfish instead of codfish.

...or monkfish.

Fabulous Christmas Day pastries in Porto... how did I neglect to post these earlier?

Trish in her warm new paperboy hat, on the pedestrian bridge in Porto.