Brunol: The day I marinated in a Bloody Mary from hell
You haven’t lived until you’ve been simultaneously pickled, trampled, and slow-cooked in the Mediterranean sun with 15,000 strangers and several metric tons of overripe produce. Yesterday was my La Tomatina baptism in Brunol, and I now know what it feels like to be the garnish in a drunk Spaniard’s gazpacho. The day began in a…