Bromancing the Stoned

Have you ever met someone in the most unlikely of places and fallen for them? It's an uncommon human experience and a rare few are lucky enough to experience this just once in their life. It's a story as old as time…

The classic bromance.

This bromantic story is about two guys with a wicked sense of humour, who were working together in the doldrums of an office environment.

Rhys and I both have a similarly disturbing sense of humour, more suitable for a maximum security prison than a corporate office. I was delighted when this father of two agreed to fly to Valencia and help me drive back to the UK in a van.

It was a trip that would total 2500km (one way) and involve a route through northern Spain and western France, crossing to the UK at Calais. The next few blogs are going to describe this trip, sharing the highlights, detailing the cockups (Rhys received the cockups), and as always, delighting our dear readers. Katie did not join us, as she was busy working (nerd!) and so this was a Lads' Tour de France (and Spain).

We started in Valencia with a six/seven hour drive to San Sebastian in front of us. After circling the airport three times, we were on our way. We only stopped for tiny espressos, medium stretches, and large wees. Then we hit snow covered roads that brought our driving speed down to a trickle. A horrible way to end the seven hour drive.

When we arrived in San Sebastian we were haggard from all the travelling (or traggard - a new word brought to you by Morning Calm!). We had two nights there, the longest we stayed anywhere on the trip, so we rested up before heading out at midnight to hit the town. Several beers, tequilas, and red wine/coke mixtures (called kalimotxos) later, we were in a bad state. The post-drinking marijuana is what ended my ability to walk/be human though. Weed is legal in Spain and even if it wasn't, I'd still be doing it because it is my poison of choice. However, a terrible thing to do even for the most seasoned stoner, is to get high when drunk. It makes your head spin and balance disappear.

"Grass before beer, you're in the clear. Beer before grass, you're on your ass."

Despite me knowing this, the tequila made me think it was a good idea and I ended up painting the town red with my kalimotxo-stained vomit. There couldn’t have been a more poetic way for the Lads' Tour de France to start. Rhys dragged me home and I awoke the next day, fully clothed, with that vomit taste in my mouth to remind me that the night before had beaten me. We weren't deterred though.

We left the hotel at a respectable 10am to hunt out some food. The rain came down all day in a pathetic fallacy of "the morning after the night before". Nevertheless, we weren't to be deterred!

We explored the beaches, old town, pier, castle, and city centre. We were walking for more than six hours, covering about eight miles, and I felt like a champion considering I couldn’t stand twelve hours before. It was an amazing day and Rhys was extra delighted as Wales won some rugby game I was half listening to.

We went out for some late night pintxos (the Basque word for tapas) and managed to get a parking ticket. This, coupled with the confusing roads, meant these two broner-obsessed guys had their first, and what would thankfully be last, cargument. It was funny because we both lost our short tempers and there was nowhere to get away from one another. But we weren't to be deterred. This bromance would be everlasting. We snogged and made up and wouldn’t argue again on the trip.

This brossoming bromantic adventure (much like the namesake, Romancing the Stone) continues next time, when we head to France. But first, enjoy the photos of San Sebastian.

The beginning of the snowy Pyrenees mountains

Don't climb on the rocks!

The surfers were loving the wet and windy day!

San Sebastian was a beautiful place, even in the rain