The beauty of “shiny object travel” is that you happen upon a lot of random things you would never find in a guide book. While walking around Barcelona, I saw groups of people who were similarly dressed, all heading to a park.

So I followed them. Not in a creepy stalker way, more like a “What’s all this then?” way.

I had chanced upon a long running Catalan cultural event – Castells. Like other uniquely Spanish activities (see Running of the Bulls and La Tomatina), it’s a unique, crazy and totally random pursuit.

The premise is pretty simple – groups of people get together and train to build human towers of various heights and configurations. In practice, though, they are incredibly well choreographed and experienced so they know exactly when to ascend and what their positions are.

On this afternoon, there were 3 groups from different communities around the area. Each took turns creating their towers, with four rounds per group for a total of 12 towers – all with a unique configuration and varying levels of difficulty.

Step One: The Wrap. All participants are wrapped with a long sheet of fabric. This serves a few purposes – as with a weight lifters belt, it stabilizes the person’s spine for the load they’re about to carry. It also provides creases and foot holds for the people climbing to higher levels.

The wrap is extremely tight for those who are in the middle sections of the tower. This woman put her full weight into ensuring her friend was snug in his rug.

Step Two: The Foundation. The bulk of the members of the team (and the bulkiest members of the team) all group together, pressing hard against each other, raising and clasping fists. In this, there is no competition between teams as others join in to ensure the base is as stable as it can be (hence the mix of green, brown and purple shirts at the bottom level). The team creates its own foundation, then other groups fill in around the outside to keep the pressure on.

Then, the climbing begins. Each group has its own little band of pipers that plays musical accompaniment as the tower gets taller, finishing with a fanfare at the completion.

Step Three: The Ascension. One level at a time, the tower is built – each person knows their position, their role and is acutely aware of the people above and below who depend on them. As you might expect, the people get smaller as the levels get taller.

The participants on the lower levels clench the collars of their shirts in their mouths to prevent any of the climbers from getting caught up on their way to the top.

Step Four: The Crown. Finally, the tower is completed when small children (average age of 7 – 10) climb to the very top, stand on the shoulders of the person below, then wave their arm in the air to signal the successful completion. Some groups get as high as 9 levels, though on this day they topped out at 7.

A successful tower is followed by a quick descent, with kids sliding down as though they’re sliding down a fireman’s pole. The children wear protective helmets in case of any mishaps. There were none I saw, nothing even close. I was told that it’s been many years since there were any injuries of any significance.

Finally, a short video of the final stages of one of the towers I saw built so you can see it in action:

Have you seen any interesting and unexpected activities during your travels?

I’m now two months into a journey that has no set end date. You have no idea how much that nags at me – not the fact that there IS no end date, just my inability to attach a % completion to where I am so far. Some habits are hard to break.

A lot has happened over the past couple of months, so I’m splitting this up into 3 parts, to give each aspect its due. And milk this for a few more posts.

1) The destination highlights

2) Logistics & financials

3) The goals and what’s next

I’ve been to 5 countries in the past two months – England, France, Belgium, The Netherlands and Spain. Exploring each of them has been wonderful, but here are the parts that stand above the rest.

My favorite destinations

Seriously, if you're going to spend an afternoon reading in the park, isn't this a good one?

Paris. It’s still the peak of my travel love. This time I was able to spend time enjoying the culture and environment like a local, albeit for a couple of weeks. In addition to leisurely visiting parks and relaxing in many of the beautiful plazas of the city, I indulged in summer activities like watching films under the stars at the Parc du Villettes. Staying in a lovely flat away from the city center enriched the experience tremendously, and is something I hope to repeat at other destinations.

Belgium. I didn’t spend nearly enough time in Bruges and Antwerp – both of them were beautiful cities I knew little about before I rode in. Missing out on Brussels along the way gives me ample reason to return to the land of Tin Tin.

Bretagne and the Celtic Festival. There are a lot of established cycling routes in France, but a solo ride down the coast of Bretagne introduced me to an entirely new region of the country – coastal towns, ancient family farms and a huge Celtic festival in Lorient were the pinnacle of my attempt to see parts of the nation that were off the beaten path for most (foreign) travelers. I loved every minute of it.

Valencia, Spain. Aside from Paris, this was my favorite city along the way. A fascinating history, outstanding architecture (old and new) and a surprisingly strong flow of other travelers, even before La Tomatina kicked off.

The Parts I Haven’t Been Quite As Enamored With

Madrid, Spain. As cities go, it just wasn’t my cup of tea. It had kind of a harsh, gloomy quality to it. There were certainly aspects I enjoyed, but the city center was filled with Cash for Gold hawkers (dozens of them), grabby hookers (I’m not kidding, several of them tried to grab my arm and pull me along with them – god knows where) and gambling halls. Madrid’s Museo del Prado boasts one of the largest collections of artwork in the world, but much of it was room after room of portraits that meant little to me. Seeing Hieronymous Bosch’s “Garden of Earthly Delights” was the only real highlight. That guy did some seriously messed up work, hundreds of years before Salvador Dali.

Amsterdam. I found the city and the people lovely throughout the Netherlands, but the tone of the place at night was just a bit much for me. I honestly love the openness about sex and weed, and it’s wonderful that there’s an understanding that people can responsibly partake in whatever activities they’d like. Those particular pursuits just weren’t my cup of tea, though, so after the first couple of nights of exploring and people watching, I generally ended up calling it a night early.

What I’m enjoying

Staying put for a while. That’s a bit of a travel oxymoron, but I’m really enjoying getting to know a town by spending a minimum of a week in the same place. The first couple of days are spent walking around, visiting the “required” sites and getting a feel for the place. Then I settle in, head to local cafes, sit in parks, read, write and just relax.

It’s a delicate balance because I also want to see a lot of towns and destinations that are off the beaten path. For example, I could have spent two weeks in Paris, followed by a train to Bordeaux and spent two weeks there, but I would have missed out on visits to Brest, Lorient, Quimper, Vannes and Nantes. The trip wouldn’t have been the same without them.

Not a view you get on a train.

Cycling through small towns. It gets my adrenaline going as well as sparking up the exploration nodes of my brain. Even on rainy mornings, the quiet pedaling through the empty hills and valleys of France, Belgium and the Netherlands have been an irreplaceable facet of the journey.

A wealth of cultural events I didn’t even know about. I certainly knew about the Tour de France and planned some of my trip around it, but watching the World Cup Finals with thousands of people in the town plaza of Lille, France had an indescribable energy to it (especially since Lille is pretty much equidistant between The Netherlands and Spain, the two competitors). Seeing the finale of the Tall Boat Races in Antwerp was an unexpected pleasure but little flea markets, regional celebrations and sporting events pop up everywhere if you look around a bit.

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Next up: How are the logistics and finances shaping up?

I’m going to get past the EasyJet baggage fees by wearing all of my clothes the way Joey did with Chandler’s on Friends.

Here’s an angel who’s not only ripped, but is shedding his tunic like he’s about to go down and kick evil’s ass. I named him Jean Claude Van Damnation.

Sure, art thieves can make off with a Van Gogh painting from an Egyptian museum, but let’s see them nick one of Gaudi’s works.

Torre Agbar, the world’s biggest phallic symbol, is located at the Glories Metro stop. I swear I am not making that up.

There are a lot of people hanging around at the Parc du Clot. I’m assuming that’s the place you go when you want to hire scabs. Think about it… you’ll get it sooner or later.

How was I to know I couldn’t pee in the sitting room at Casa Batllo? It’s not my fault Gaudi puts bathroom tile everywhere.

I haven’t really confirmed this, but I’ve heard that the festival of La Tomatina started back in the days of bad vaudeville performers in an attempt to rid the world of its supply of rotten tomatoes. Now, once a year 40,000 people descend upon tiny Buñol, Spain to hurl over-ripe vegetables at each other for an hour.

I envision that this is what life is like working at the Heinz factory – a Wonka-like world of tomato bits, complete with beer and techno music to accompany shmushing crimson produce in the face of Pennsylvanian oompa-loompas. In my mind, that’s how ketchup is born.

The festival itself is a wonderful experience. You have to love the fact that a tiny town like this sees one day of international fame each year – with music, laughter and good messy fun. It’s one of those uniquely Spanish events, like running with the bulls, that celebrates life by just doing something illogical and ridiculous.

This is known as a "cyclist's tan"

The extravaganza is especially popular with travel bloggers, so there’s already a wealth of great advice available online. I recommend checking out posts at WhatsDaveDoing.com and CailinTravels.com. But they missed a few bits, so let me fill in the blanks.

Here are a few things you absolutely MUST avoid so that you get the most out of the experience:

1) Anti-perspirant. Getting crushed in a crowd of hot, sweat-soaked drunk people is part of the event’s charm. Quick physics lesson – when anti-matter and matter collide, a tremendous explosion results. The effect here is similar – if you wear anti-perspirant to this event, it will create a slippery force-field between you and the other revelers as thousands of pounds of pressure push up against you as the tomato trucks pass by. You risk serious injury when you shoot like a watermelon seed out of the crowd and into a neighboring village.

2) Tour group t-shirts. Avoid these like the plague. They will mark you as a short term visitor and you will not mix in at all with the locals. As any good traveler knows, blending in with the residents is a critical part of really appreciating a cultural experience. To truly appear to be a resident during the hoopla in Buñol, you should spend the day somewhere other than Buñol.

3) Restrooms. There are 6 stalls for 40,000 people who’ve been imbibing beer since the night before. Even if your life’s mission is to wait 30 minutes to climb into a porta-potty that’s long since been filled beyond capacity, don’t do it. This is the perfect opportunity to get back to nature and relieve yourself crouched in between parked cars – the way God intended.

4) Swimming pools in the middle of nowhere. No matter what the guy selling you an overpriced bus tour might say, getting stuck for 4 hours at a public pool 30km outside of town is NOT the way to spend the afternoon after the adventure is over. The emotional scars left from seeing a 70 year old man swimming in tightie-whities will take much longer to cleanse than the tomato stains I have in that part of my back I can’t quite reach.

5) Sleep. If you’re wide awake, you may look around and ask “what the fuck am I doing here?” It’s far better to stay up all night before the festival so you can fully indulge yourself in a haze of “whooo!”

6) Bars and restaurants. Don’t spend your money on beer or breakfast before the burgundy bombardment begins, because there’s plenty of refreshment available from guys walking the street. For 2 Euros and a complete disregard for sanitation, you can pick up a full day’s supply of mystery sangria served in a used 2 liter Fanta jug. It’s a beverage AND a meal.

7) Arriving early. If you get there too early, you might accidently end up near the center of the action and get tomatoes thrown at you. And that’s just plain silly.

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La Tomatina is one of those experiences you have to see to believe. Book your 2011 trip to Valencia now!

The historic center of Valencia was certainly my favorite part, but I have to showcase some of the amazing architecture that’s a bit newer. As you travel further along the Jardines de Turia, the tone moves from sports and gardens to art & culture, which are housed in buildings that are stunning in their own right. Art, science, music, oceanography and history all have homes in the complex.

An overview of the City of Arts & Sciences (aka Ciudad de las Artes y de las Ciencias).

The finest in Cylon architecture –

The Hemispheric.

A side view of El Palau de les Arts Reina Sofía

L’Oceanogràfic in the back (largest aquarium/Oceanography park in Europe) and El Puente de l’Assut de l’Or – a bridge with only a single pillar, using enormous cables for support.

El Museu de les Ciències Príncipe Felipe – built to resemble the skeleton of a whale.

Valencia was one of my favorite cities in Europe. It was beautiful from one end to the other. The only frustration for me was the propensity for them to plant TREES everywhere, making unobstructed photos quite a challenge. Damn you, Valencia, and your dedication to greenery!

The city has some marvelous features, including buildings ranging from ancient towers like the Torres Serrano and Torres Quart, beautiful plazas, churches, government offices and even some amazing banks.

A few of my favorites:

Mercado Cento – the main market in town for purchasing fresh (really fresh) meats and vegetables. Some of the beauty of this part of Spain comes from the use of tile and ceramics in the exterior of buildings. The market is one of the best examples of this.

Inside the market. I thought about buying a rabbit on a spit, but they wouldn’t let me start an open flame in our hotel.

Placa de adjutament – one of the main plazas in the city and the home to many of the government offices for Valencia.

The most impressive piece I saw was this carved alabaster entryway at Palau del Marqués de Dosaigües, which houses the ceramic museum.

One of the best features of Valencia is the Jardines de Turia park. The Turia river was prone to floods, so in 1957 they decided to divert the river outside of town. With the space that was left, they created a wonderful park with several kilometers of gardens, sports facilities, jogging and cycling paths, playgrounds, fountains and ponds.

Nighttime shot of the Placa de Adjutament.

• People who cover themselves in body paint then stand motionless for photos in public squares make me nostalgic for the interactivity of mimes.
• The restroom in the Irun train station has a condom machine. I can’t even begin to understand why that’s necessary. Is train sex THAT frequent? Shit, why don’t I speak better Spanish? Donde esta la tren con mucho sex?

• With all the busking that goes on in Paris, I was shocked that no one had packed a jacket onto his shoulder to play the “hunchback” at Notre Dame. So I did. There’s a fortune to be made.

• People who talk on the phone in the restroom disturb me and it’s accentuated when it’s into a bluetoooth earpiece and in a foreign language because you have no idea what they might be saying or if they’re actually talking to a person and not their genitalia.
• I can appreciate the cultural tradition of kisses on the cheek as a friendly gesture in France, but it looks weird when police officers with machine guns greet each other like that.
• There’s a woman who just passed me wearing orange tights, a short blue skirt and an orange tee. She’s one mask away from being a superhero.
• Reason #437 I love Europe: I walked into a small store to buy something to drink. When I stepped through the door, the shop owner literally ran from the back room with a piece of watermelon, put it in my hand, saying “have this! Please, it’s so sweet and delicious!”
• Just saw a guy dump his fries on his burger like an additional topping. #realmenofgenius
• Isn’t a metal detector at a night club in Madrid pointless? It’s not physically possible for anyone in those outfits to have a weapon concealed somewhere.

A British meat sampler plate. Not sure if blood sausage qualifies as "meat."

“Food is a central activity of mankind and one of the single most significant trademarks of a culture.”
Mark Kurlansky

At home, I generally ate 5 things: cereal, pizza, hamburgers, tacos and peanut butter & jelly sandwiches. There were other meals, of course, but in the course of a week each of those was guaranteed at least once.

Trying to turn me into a foodie is a challenge on par with getting Lindsay Lohan’s rehab to stick.

One of the common requests I’ve gotten since I started traveling is to take photos and write about the food along the way. But I just can’t bring myself to do it. The words aren’t there because I just don’t care.

“That’s why people travel,” was what one friend told me.

Is it? Not for me. I hate food. I eat as a maintenance activity like showering, brushing my teeth or watching porn.

Travel and food are inextricably linked for many people. On any given day, you could tune in to The Travel Channel and be hard pressed to tell if you were actually watching the Food Network, except the latter includes infomercials for The Tater Mitt and Onion Blossom Maker.

I love exploring other cultures – the history, the artwork, the lifestyle. But when it comes to the food, I’m just not that interested.

Paella for a busload of Tomatina-survivors.

Its importance to travelers is understandable. Food is a cornerstone of a culture and to appreciate a destination, you should be exposing yourself to new things that are important to the people you’re around. That’s why one of the first goals I set out for myself in traveling the world was to dive in and try the local food. (Read: Confessions of a Cultural Idiot Part 1)

For two months I’ve been trying. Blood sausage in England, paella in Spain with types of fish I’d never even heard of, Roquefort cheese (aka mold) in my crepe in France. I’ve eaten a number of things that were never on my radar in the U.S. and I haven’t even gotten to the countries with food that’s really outside of my comfort zone.

For some reason, though, my food experiences are almost always “meh” inducing. It’s not that I hate the foods I’ve eaten, it just doesn’t make any kind of impact on me whatsoever.

To be honest, at times I’m ashamed of myself – so many cultures consider the meal a primary component of their lives and I feel like I’m missing out, but I’m not sure how to change it.

What do you think? Am I doing something wrong? Does anyone else travel with no regard to eating their way around the world?

A few photos from Madrid, for your viewing pleasure. Click on any photo to see the full Flickr gallery.

Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. I’ve never actually read the book (or seen the musical), but I’ve always felt a kinship with Quixote. There’s something about his combination of a little crazy and a little starved for attention that speaks to me.

Architecture in Madrid is wonderful. While it lacks the consistency of Paris, the varying styles mesh together nicely.

The Palace Hotel – the place where Mata Hari often stayed, along with other notables like Hemingway, Dali and Picasso. And Lamar Odom.

The Atocha train station. Another beautiful station. Inside this one is a complete garden and restaurant, as the newer section of the station is behind the old station pictured here.

Parque de Madrid. The park is huge – even on a bike, it took me nearly an hour to cover it all. Beautiful fountains, gates, flowers and activity areas throughout acres of park built in the 1800s.

Place de Espana.

A Brain Drops special edition

Since I’ve been traveling, I’ve finally learned to appreciate soccer. Or, as the rest of the world calls it – football. Knowing a bit about the sport is critical if you want to be social in countries outside of the U.S. I’ve actually started to enjoy it, so I had to wonder “why do Americans hate it so much?”

I’m going to skip over a couple of the basics, like the fact that we’re not that good at it. And I won’t even mention the ill-fated promotional tour to Arizona that cost us half our best players.

Let’s dig a bit deeper than that:

- You can’t use your hands. Why would you deliberately disallow the use of your primary appendage? Would you pay to watch Nascar drivers who’ve removed their tires? Of course not – the crashes wouldn’t look nearly as cool and splodey.

- The games have low scores. “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey” – U.S. sports fans don’t buy that line of shit. We need constant stimulation and fireworks. We thrive on the long touchdown pass in American football, the grand slam homerun of baseball or the “we score every 23 seconds” of basketball.

- The sponsor logos are right on the jerseys. Sorry, we refuse to be that blatantly open about the fact that our corporate overlords control every aspect of our lives. It makes it easier for us to cope when we want to pretend we have a “free market system.”

- There are just too many leagues. It’s impossible to keep them all straight – there needs to be a major merger of all the various leagues ASAP. The United States loves a good monopoly – whether it’s throwing hotels down on Boardwalk and Park Place or kicking down “incentives” to entice the telecom industry to have their annual “price increase festival” in your city next year.

- The yellow card penalty pretty much means there’s no immediate punishment. In a country with a history steeped in vigilante justice, we just don’t believe in delayed castigation.

- The clock doesn’t stop. This is a double whammy. No commercial time during a sporting event means no million dollar a minute ad rates. Then on top of that, you eliminate the breaks people use to grab a Coors Light and some Doritos, decimating the consumption of the sponsor’s products.

- Players have a tendency to take their shirts off. Americans may feign outrage when they see a topless woman, but it’s shirtless men that really make middle America uncomfortable.

- Many games don’t have a winner. The thought of not being able to win is anathema to most of us. There’s no adage that says “you win some, you lose some, but most of the time you’re the same” in the American vernacular. We really don’t believe in win-win, unless we win both times.

That’s my take on it. Am I missing something?