Entering the War Zone

This weekend was the first time that I was worried about my safety in Spain. This weekend was St. Juan, which is similar to the United States 4th of July, but on crack. All of Barcelona flock to the beaches to drink, dance and blow off their fingers , er, I mean light fireworks.

The first thing I saw as I approached Bogtell beach was an ambulance speeding down the road with its lights flashing and siren roaring. Not a good sign.

I was stunned as I watched young children light massive fire works as their parents smiled with approval from a safe distance. In typical Spanish fashion, there were no police anywhere.

I felt like I was in a war zone. The large fireworks exploded like bombs while smaller fireworks reminded me of machine gun fire. Airborne fireworks lit the sky, giving it an eerie glow. It was like this for at least 5 hours. The world could have ended and no one would have noticed.

As it got later, more people filled the beaches and the fireworks (thankfully) slowed. Around 6 A.M. many people got naked and jumped into the Mediterranean. Everyone was having fun dancing and partying to the thumping house music that filled the warm night time air. It was Spanish beach partying at its best.

Next up? My countdown until my departue on July 31st. More on my crazy travel plans soon...