Bizarre festivals? Oh, I’m glad you asked. I was minding my own business, wondering if the Calgary Stampede and K-Days could be considered oddities on the global stage—rodeo culture, pancake breakfasts, and all—but then my curiosity took its usual detour down the rabbit hole. You know the one—the path where you emerge on the other side clutching your laptop, wide-eyed, muttering, “People actually do that?!” And let me tell you, humanity does *that* and so much more.

Let’s start with something relatively tame, shall we? There’s La Tomatina in Spain, where thousands gather in the picturesque town of Buñol for the sole purpose of pelting each other with overripe tomatoes. Yes, tomatoes. Picture it: a sea of red, slippery chaos, with folks slipping and sliding through what looks like a culinary massacre. I imagine the cleanup afterward is something akin to a nightmare, but hey, at least the rats in Buñol are probably the happiest rodents in Europe that day.

Then I stumbled upon the Cheese Rolling Festival in Gloucestershire, England. Oh, this one’s a treat. Imagine dozens of people flinging themselves down a ridiculously steep hill in pursuit of a wheel of cheese. It’s less “athletic competition” and more “human avalanche.” Bones are broken, egos are shattered, and cheese is gloriously triumphant every time. I’m sure the event’s planners have an insurance policy longer than the Magna Carta.

But bizarre isn’t always messy, oh no! Take Japan, for instance. Japan is home to the Kanamara Matsuri, also known as the Festival of the Steel Phallus. Yep, steel phallus. This annual celebration includes, among other delights, enormous penis-shaped floats parading through the streets of Kawasaki. It’s all in good fun—though the origin of the festival is rooted in folklore about a demon hiding in a woman’s… well, we can leave the anatomical details to your imagination. These days, the festival raises awareness for safe sex and sexual health, which is about as wholesome as a penis parade can get.

Speaking of wholesome, there’s nothing quite like Finland’s Wife Carrying Championship. The premise is simple: husbands sling their wives onto their backs like sacks of potatoes and race through an obstacle course. The winner gets their spouse’s weight in beer. I personally would insist on being carried bridal-style, like a Victorian heroine fainting into her beloved’s arms, but alas, Finnish wives seem to prefer the practicality of dangling upside down like human backpacks.

And then there’s the Monkey Buffet Festival in Lopburi, Thailand. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a buffet for monkeys. Hundreds of kilograms of fruit and vegetables are laid out for the local primates, who descend upon the feast like furry little tornadoes. The tourists love it, the monkeys love it, and the local shopkeepers probably don’t love the aftermath. I can’t decide whether organizing a buffet for wild monkeys is the peak of human ingenuity or the nadir of human self-respect.

Oh, but wait, I’m not done. Enter the Battle of the Oranges in Ivrea, Italy—a citrus-flinging bonanza that makes La Tomatina look like a gentle garden party. The town splits into teams and recreates a medieval uprising by hurling oranges at one another. Why oranges? I genuinely don’t know. I suspect it’s because oranges are less likely to cause permanent injury than, say, coconuts or avocados.

And if you think Europe has cornered the market on bizarre festivals, let me introduce you to the Baby Jumping Festival in Spain. Yes, more Spain. In the town of Castrillo de Murcia, grown men dress as devils and leap over rows of babies lying on mattresses. The ritual is meant to cleanse the infants of original sin—because, apparently, a little airborne devil action is just what the pediatrician ordered.

But let’s not forget America. Land of the free and home of the brave—and also home to the Testicle Festival in Montana. This annual event celebrates, well, testicles, particularly those of the deep-fried variety. Rocky Mountain oysters are served by the platter as revelers share jokes, dance, and toast to the culinary delights of, how shall I put this delicately, bovine masculinity.

At this point, I’m convinced that humanity’s collective joy lies in taking something mundane—cheese, tomatoes, monkeys, you name it—and turning it into glorious absurdity. More than that, it’s a reminder that life doesn’t always have to make sense. Sometimes, you just need to chase cheese down a hill, throw oranges at strangers, and cheer for wild monkeys scarfing down bananas. Why? Because you can.

So, yes, I’m building my bucket list. I might start with La Tomatina, because hurling tomatoes seems like an excellent way to deal with pent-up rage. Then, on to the Wife Carrying Championship—assuming I can find a willing participant. And after that? Who knows? Maybe I’ll end up in Thailand, feeding monkeys and wondering why my travel insurance costs more than my plane ticket. Life is bizarre, and festivals make it beautifully so. Who’s coming with me?