So- Pamplona! What can I say except the bull running has been on my bucket list for years. I once had aspirations of running but last month on a normal run through town I tripped seemingly on nothing (a speck of dust? Pebble? My own feet?) and was black and blue with knees and palms tore up & bloody as well as a swollen jaw (don't ask). I looked like a domestic abuse victim & received strange & sympathetic looks which made me wonder what may happen if chased by bulls.
After 3 nights in London with only catnaps on plane and train I was remarkably ready to party upon arrival in Pamplona. Stepping off the train all I can see are people dressed all in white with red sashes around the waist and red bandana at the neck which is the typical costume of the Festival of San Fermin. But many of you may be wondering-
What is the Festival of San Fermin? (No worries- I'll be brief!) San Fermin was a saint beheaded in Spain. The red neckerchief is symbolic of that.
Who runs? Anyone can just jump in and run and climb back out over the barricade along the route. Average time running? About 8 seconds if you're lucky. Although amateurs from around the world jump in, the professional runners are the mozos (pronounced mothos- with long O sound) and now mozas (women). These people train year-round and know how to run in front of the bull without getting gored. The police try as best they can to keep out those runners obviously drunk, although many are buzzed but still with their wits about them.
So the entire town of a Pamplona is a sea of people dressed in white with the red sash and red bandana. I have all my whites ready and am planning to buy the bandana along the way when to my delight I discover my hotel (Hotel Yoldi which I highly recommend!) has left one on my pillow when I get upstairs. Yay me!
After a quick shower I don my white jeans and white tank (an outfit that is no woman's friend btw), tie on my bandana and hit the streets. Many connections to Pamplona and New Orleans at Mardi Gras which I've also done. A difference is there are like the equivalent of several Bourbon Streets surrounding a main plaza. With no time to orient myself to the town and no map (!) I take a pic of the map from the Rick Steve's guide book for handy reference and I used it A Lot! Like Mardi Gras, the streets and bars are full of revelers but, contrary to what one may expect, all friendly and respectful. People are of ALL ages so my fear of crashing a college party is quickly put to rest. Nothing to do but start exploring.
I'm in maybe my third bar when I'm befriended by a local guy and within seconds am being spun around the dance floor- or the area near the bar serving that purpose. He gets me a beer and no, I am not getting rufied (no idea how to spell that and won't try) because I watch the beer being poured that the bartender gives me and it does not leave my sight. This guy is Jose and he's seemingly close to my age and understands my Spanish perfectly well. We chat, we dance, and before I know it it's 3:30am. I've heard it's necessary to line up quite early to get a decent vantage point along the route and after my travels and little sleep I'm concerned about whether I should try to rally on and stay up or nip back to the room for a brief rest.
As Jose escorts me back to my hotel, police are already putting out the barricades and they're about as high as my chin and I'm 5'6". Jose has run years before but not in 17 years when he was in his twenties (an age clue- maybe early forties? I never asked- seldom do. He tells me I'll never get close enough to see, thousands of people blah blah. Now it's nearly 4 and I'm practically asleep on my feet and the idea of waiting up until 8am is beyond me. I say good night and thank you to Jose and go upstairs just to lay down and "rest my eyes" like we used to say at slumber parties when we were determined to stay awake. I mean, I'm planning to line up at (yawn) 5:30 or 6 (yawn) LATEST. It's why I'm (yawn) even in (yaaaawn) Pamp....zzzzzzzzzzz....
Despite having set 3 alarms, noise from the street wakes me and I bolt up, seeing the light sky and absolutely sick with dread that I've already missed it. I rub my eyes (contacts still in-ugh!!) and grab for my phone. 6:45! I'm Scrooge on Christmas morning. I haven't missed it!! I want to dance around but too tired and no time. I brush my teeth and hair. I'm still completely dressed and in last night's make up as was just "resting my eyes". I throw on my sunglasses and run downstairs, following the crowd past the famed statue of the bull-running the few blocks toward the arena. I'm certain the crowd will be 20 deep but no! I find a spot by the barricade right up front! Yay me! It's just past 7 and the crowd is thickening behind me, and, despite the excitement around me, I'm yawning so much I practically dislocate my jaw. I'm psyched though.
The crowd is rowdy- have I mentioned the singing?? Oh, the singing!! Last night also. I hear that only the Irish sing as much. It's as though I'm suddenly cast in the chorus of a rowdy Spanish musical. I watch as several medics gather inside the barricade, at the ready with stretchers. Photographers climb into place perched atop the barricade. It's moments from 8am and we're all ready to watch. The crowd energizes me and before I know it I hear the gunshot signaling the start. The entire run is barely 5 minutes and the part one actually sees, depending on vantage point, is about a minute. I'll attach the link to yesterday's actual whole run.
I hear the shouting and pounding of hooves and there they are, running past me, the bulls (6) and the steers (8). It's absolutely amazing to be right there! The mozos and the rest of the runners all peering over their shoulders and leaping out of the way. I'm told if you run and fall to stay flat on the ground and count to be sure all beasts have passed before getting up. In the video below you'll see a couple of guys fall and lie flat. Because one poor bull got separated he was far behind all the others. Before I know it they've
all run past and into the arena.
After the whole business ends moments later I'm grateful to return to my room for proper rest. I'm leaving later that evening for Madrid so just spending the rest of the day hanging around town after I wake back up. That night would be another night of frivolity but I'm ready to move on so will not be present at midnight for the "Pobre de mi" closing ceremony & song. Pobre de mi (poor me) that one must wait another year for Festival of San Fermin. But, hey, as I'm so fond of saying, it's annual! Plan your trip, amigos- you won't be disappointed.
Cheers! Mim
Link to actual bull running from yesterday. I'm behind photographers near the arena at the end (not visible but I'm there!). One poor brown bull gets confused & needs a lot of help finding his way. The animal-lover in me finds this part very hard to watch as the poor thing looks confused & terrified by all the people. The bull-fighting itself I refuse to contemplate. But check out the link:
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