FESTA DO SAN JOAO & NOS SOMOS CAPEONES

Woke up the first morning of camping to the sound of rain falling on my tent. A quick look around assured me that everything was dry and my camping skills weren´t gone completely. Little did I know that I would awake to rain the next four days as well. Every day of camping, rain, except for the this morning.

Tuesday went for a bit of sightseeing in Braga. Way back when, the Iberian Christians set about recreating Jerusalem in their town so as to shorten the distance of the pilgramage to Isreal. The result is a stunning Church on top of a hill overlooking the town. Took the bus to the site, and decided against the cable car to the top and opted for the steps. 592 steps and a few buckets of sweat later, I made it to the top, and it was well worth it. The whole site was designed symbolically, with the zig~zag staircase at the top depicting the stations of the cross, and fountains on the way up depicting the sense with water flowing from the ears, then eyes, and so on. A great view of the city from the top could have been better had it not been for the ever present clouds. Back at the campsite, my neighbors, a man and his son from Holland, hooked me up with some BBQ for dinner, made even nicier by the pounding rain. Set off into town with them for the gathering of the orange prior to their match the next day. Good times out messing about with the dutch and the others mingling about.

Wednesday. The day of Festa do San Joao. Had a notion to go to the match, but opted instead to watch it on the big screen in the town square. Ended up chatting to a spanish man and his family, picking up a few good pointers for the travels in Spain. Holland won 3~0, and Germany lost, so the Dutch would advance. And they would party. All night. But despite their partying prolifics, couldn´t come close to the Festa. Imagine, a town of 150,000 or so, hosting a good 250,000, in the streets, the square, the park, anywhere. And for some reason, which no one seems to know, the main attraction of this party is hitting everyone and anyone on the head with a plastic, toy, squeaky hammer. You just cant imagine it until you´ve seen it. The 2 km main Avenida, full of people, and all you can see is hammers banging away on heads. And the accompanying squeaky sound that goes with it. Madness. Walked down and back up the street, having now acquired my own hammer, just laughing at the whole scene. After a few hours of this, figured I might call it an early night as it was 1am, so started walking back. The whole issue that arose here is my campsite is but a few hundred meters from the carnival, with music blasting, and hammers squeaking. Anyway, walking back, I get mauled by a group of 8 university girls, banging away on my head. After I took a pounding, they must have felt pity, so they insisted on me joining them, not really believing an American could be in Braga during the Euro, walking so down the street. So for the next 3 hours, messed about with them, including a ride on the FlipTop, just imagine, at the carnival. Then off to a sidestreet cafe for a beers and coffee away from the madness. At some point I was offered a guided tour of the city the following day, so lined that up alrite. Made it back to the campsite round 4 or so, and was certainly not even close to the last man standing in the streets.

Thursday hooked up with my aforementioned tour guide and cruised about for a bit. Experienced the mystery of Braga, as there is a 50m stretch of road, inclined slighty, where a car stopped and put in neutral with roll uphill. Aparently its been studied and theres no explanation. Also went out to the stadium, which is pretty impressive. Set off to the town square around 6, and got a patch of concrete not to far from the tele for the portugal~england match. The rest of the previous nights crew joined up, and by the time the match started, must have been close between 50,000~~75,000 there watching. The celebration was quieted early as England scored 3 minutes in, and it seemed destined to end that way until portugal drew even with only 7 minutes left. Into extra time, the first 15 minutes nothing, then portugal scored with about 10 minutes left. Jumping, screeming, yelling, singing, you name it. Could only imagine the scene in Lisbon or Porto, with 5 times the number out in the streets. Yet again, silenced by an England goal only minutes later. Penalties. Suspense. Nerves. First up Beckham, and, amazingly, missed again, over the top. One portugese miss put it even again, and into extra rounds. Finally, the seventh for England missed, and the portugese keeper ended it with the best penalty of all so set things off again. All the same as the Spain game, just a bit more. After some eats, went to the apartment of one of the girls and camped out for a birds eye view of the ensueing fireworks show, which was only delayed by an hour and a half. Nice show, although half the fireworks were lost in the huge cloud of smoke created. And that was that.

Am in Porto now, figure on staying 3 nights. Czech~Denmark play up here Sunday, so should be good times. In other news, I am now officially out of the Army as of 23 June, the prior being vacation days. And, more good news, got the rest of the money due me, so things are looking good. Except there will be NO more money coming in, just out. Also, sorted out the photos so the ones from Bali are now up. And I´ve gone 5 days now without losing another camera! Quite an accomplishment for me. Should have some more up this weekend as the internet cafe here is cheap and fully equipped.