Since I was 12, I’ve hated clowns. Circuses are out of the question, and even watching my childhood favorite, Bozo the Clown, makes me shiver. It’s probably due to a dream Beth and I both had when we were in middle school. But suddenly, I found myself in a city where everyone was dressed as one – red noses, painted faces and a deranged look (in all fairness, that was due to the cold weather and all-day imbibing!)
On the heels of some bad news, I have two pieces of good news:
I joined a gym. And I’ve actually been going! Afraid Kike’s pirate fighting absence would get me all moody and hating Spain, I’m putting that negative energy to good use. Turns out he’s staying till late July like last year, so we’ve declared June the month of the “Equipo Fiestón” Christene and I are going to watch every single World Cup match, go to every small-town festival (where they usually serve beer the cheapest) and try to get to the Running of the Bulls in July. Then, if all goes well, I’ll start camp in A Coruña again in mid-July. I’ve looked into other camps, but the FNX deal is too good to pass up.
And, even better, I finally got a bike! Kike got me one for Reyes, an oxidized version of a mountain bike that he bought off of Chema. Juan Bosco, named after the saint on the day he was finally put to use, has an uncomfortable seat, no basket or light and makes me hunch over, but he’s going to make my life much, much easier.