So what is the running of the bulls really like in Pamplona?

Once again, words cannot even begin to explain my experience in Pamplona! We arrived at about 6:00pm on Friday night, got dressed in our San Fermín attire—all white except for the red faja (sash) and pañuelo (bandana). We headed downtown and grabbed a bite to eat at one of the bars. There were SO MANY PEOPLE—drinking, singing, talking, screaming, doing crazy competitions, etc. By far the best part of Friday (in my opinion) was the group of older people that we came across who were singing about San Fermín and Pamplona. Love and pride for Pamplona just swelled up out of their voices—it was so beautiful that I got chills and a knot in my throat. I wish that each of you could have been there. We walked to the plaza (bull ring) to buy our tickets for the running of the bulls, which is actually called the encierro (the bulls run to the stadium and get caged). La corrida, even though correr means to run, is the festival when the torero actually kills the bull. La corrida happens at night. The way back to our dorm was INSANE! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking and some crazy guy got right up in my face and shouted and spilled some of his wine on me. Of course, I screamed too—and I made some of the people on the street laugh. Hey, that’s what I’m here for. The streets were so crowded, and somehow we kept finding ourselves in the middle of various parades. I can identify with what a fish must feel like when it is caught in a net with masses of other fish and nowhere to go—that is what the streets in Pamplona feel like during San Fermín. The crowds are overwhelming: not only is there way too many people, but most of them are borracho (drunk) beyond belief. Well, we made it safe and sound to our dorm after stopping at a café to warm up—it was FREEZING and it started to rain.

We were met early this morning by the sharp, cold air as we walked to the plaza at 6:15am. It is amazing to me how much colder it is in Pamplona than Madrid. Celestino described this week in Pamplona with the following word: infierno (hell). Now I understand what he was talking about! On the way to the plaza, people were passed out and sleeping everywhere: hunched over on doorsteps, wrapped up in sleeping bags inside entrances to buildings, curled up on the sidewalk, face down in the grass, leaning on a tree, collapsed on a bench. You name it, we saw it. Trash was everywhere. The closer we got to the plaza, the more the air reeked of alcohol and urine. Oh, and on the way to the plaza, some guy tried to pick me up, literally. No worries Jake (and Mom and Dad), I just pushed him away! I guess working out has paid off! ; ) But what was most amazing to me is that the streets were just as crowed with people still partying! We pushed our way through the crowds and finally made it to the plaza a little after 7:00am.

The plaza was amazing! People were screaming and singing along with the band that was playing—it was just like I imagined it would be. At first, I sat next to a teenager who’s cigarette smoke streamed into my eyes. Thankfully, a sweet, older Spanish man sat next to me and blocked the smoke. What’s even better is that he explained to me that a rocket would be set off at 8:00am to initiate the running of the bulls, and he pointed to the entrance that the bulls would run through. This is where the real excitement started. The rocket went off, and the bulls were let loose! We could watch the run on the big screen, and soon after the rocket went off, the first men ran into the plaza. The first bunch of men to enter were met by taunts, name calling, and trash and drinks being thrown at them—I’m assuming because they didn’t actually run with the bulls. The anticipation grew as we watched the bulls getting closer and closer on the screen. Suddenly, the first few bulls came charging in through the gate, and the crowd exploded with excitement. Most of the bulls went straight across to the other side of the plaza to be penned up, but there were a few stragglers that stopped and scared the men. Once all of the bulls had arrived and were penned up, all of the men continued to linger in the plaza. I asked the sweet, old man sitting next to me, and he explained that for the next hour or so, a bull would be let out one at a time into the plaza to run around with the men (and a few ladies). As you can see from the video, they are crazy! I don’t think that anyone could pay me enough to do that! At any rate, a bull would come charging out one at a time and then men would taunt the bull. A fair amount of the men were tossed into the air, trampled on, or rammed. The saying “grab the bull by the horns” has a new meaning for me. The crowd went crazy whenever a man got in front of the bull and tried to wrestle it to the ground—a few men came close, but never succeeded. Personally, the combination of drinking alcohol, staying awake all night, slippery roads, and bulls does not seem like the brightest idea! However, the entire experience was the epitome of Spanish culture—pride, passion, festivities, danger, piropos, and beauty. I can’t believe all of this happened in one day!

CHECK OUT MIS FOTOS!!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/24668335@N04/show/