I really do not know how to begin this entry. Trying to explain Pamplona during San Fermin is like explaining Mozart to a deaf man. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw and experienced in Pamplona, Spain. Words cannot describe what I saw and experienced. San Fermin is the biggest festival in Spain held once a year for eight days. I am told it is arguably the biggest festival in Europe, and I can stand firm in my belief that it most likely is.
Mitch Kraemer, my travel partner from the Italy Program, and I met his friend and KU Grad, Nate Totten at the Barcelona train station early morning on Tuesday, July 7th. After a little run around at the train station trying to figure out the best way to Pamplona, we found a bus that would take us there. Thank goodness we hopped this because it was the best way to kick off our week.
We met two awesome Americans (yes, I learned there is such a thing as not awesome Americans. Sorry to burst your bubble.) But like I said, these two were awesome Americans. They were a pilot and a flight attendant for US airways. What a great pair. Ashley and John stuck with us all the way to the Stoke travel campsite.
On the bus there were frat boys from UC Irvine and then another trio that will be hard to forget— a Canadian, an Englishman and an Australian who run the Ryan’s Bar Pub Crawl in Barcelona. The pub crawl trio stuck around all night with us Americans. It was a night for the books. We get into town around nine at night to find ourselves in the middle of an insane all-city party. People were chanting, spraying Sangria all over the place, and having a blast. The city was covered with people in the traditional attire: white pants with a red sash paired with a white top and a red scarf. Needless to say, it was really easy to find your friends when you got separated in the middle of the night. Just simply look for the guys in the white pants and red bandanas. Yup, on my first night in town, I lost Mitch and Nate. To my knowledge they were gone forever, never to be seen again until we finally reunited in Barcelona or something. It was pretty terrifying, but I keep my head held high in hopes that my independence would shine in a city I knew nearly nothing about.
The longest night of my life didn’t really ever end. It really just transitioned into walking the streets at seven in the morning to find a place to watch the Bull Run. The bulls are let loose in the city promptly at eight. It is a good idea to arrive early to be guaranteed a spot to run or even to be a spectator. I am walking towards what they call “Dead Man’s Corner” (no pun intended). Then who do I see right in front of my eyes just standing by the fence, Mitch and Nate! It was the greatest discovery. In all the excitement, the pub crawl trio kept walking never to be seen again. To those guys, I would say, happy travels and happy pub crawling. Nate and I sat on the ground near the fence, so that we had a front row spot of the Bull Run. I was happy to have found them.
I can’t even waste my breath trying to describe what I saw that morning: My first Bull Run. It was exciting, exhilarating and mind-blowing. I was just sitting watching and my adrenaline was pumping. Any normal person would watch wild bulls run after people in crowded streets and think, “What on Earth? Why would anyone in their right mind voluntarily put themselves in harm’s way by literally running with bulls through a city?” Well, I guess I am not normal because from the second I saw the first bull, I was set. I was running with the bulls the next morning. No questions asked.
And, I did just that. I ran with the bulls on Thursday July 9, 2009. Then I guess saying you ran with the bulls at San Fermin just isn’t quite idiotic enough(or hardcore, depending on your mindset), so I did it again on Friday July 10, 2009, which sadly was the day the young Spaniard did in fact get gored to death by the bull they call, Cappucino. May He Rest in Peace.
Everyone asks, did you really run with the bulls? How close were you? Well, you really have to see a run to fully understand. But to answer questions: Yes, I actually ran along side a bull. Know that the bulls run at a top speed of 15mph, so obviously these suckers are fast. They start at the beginning of the 850 meter course and run into the arena. Whereas, most people pick about a 50 meter stretch to actually run with the bulls. You are standing there with your hands shaking and your head spinning. Questions are just running circles around your head. Then the first firework shoots off right at eight signaling the gates being opened. A second fire means all the bulls are out of the gate. Meaning all the bulls and steers are running your way whether you like it or not. People are jumping up and down. Everyone’s’ faces say just one universal thing regardless of their language, “@*#&! What am I doing?!” It was almost a comforting and very discomforting feeling to see grown men, usually large Spaniards next to you clad in white with one expression on their aged faces: fear.
The anticipation is what kills you and tears up your insides until you feel like a glob of fret and fear.
Then the anticipation ends instantly as the center of the street clears and men all in matching attire are running for their lives, literally, as bulls ride their tails. Right when men start zooming past you the crowd starts to move, and I mean move. I was booking it trying to avoid the people who trip in front of you as if they are trying to pull you down with them. I honestly felt like the ball in the game pong as I tried to make my way down the straight. Big burly men were pushing me towards the center of the road then back again towards the fence. My goal, other than don’t die, was to stay on my feet. Jumping over people on the ground, avoiding the center of the road while avoiding being trampled or smashed up against the fence was not an easy task.
Then it happened. A bull ran past me. For about a second, maybe three tops, I was able to look to my right and see a bull within arm's reach.
I will never forget this experience. I gained more confidence in those two days than all 19 years of my life. I was on my own. Everyone running had enough to worry about with just trying to stay alive themselves, so I was on my own the first day. Just Stay Alive.
The second day was even more exhilarating. I thought my nerves would be a little calmer. I mean after running with the bulls once, what’s the big deal. Umm not so much. It was even scarier. This time I had put myself in a stickier situation by starting after Dead Man’s Corner. There was no fence or safe exit in sight. Buildings covered each side until you made it up around the corner towards the arena. I had to really run and keep running until I made it to the arena.
This time around I had a wonderful running partner. Bec from Australia was as much hard core as you can pack into a five-foot-three woman. She and I just screamed intensity as we weaved through the crowd and raced towards the arena. May her travels with her fiancé, Dave, always be filled with adventures and excitement.
Running with the bulls was scary, eventful and exciting. This entry does not even begin to give the experience justice or the descriptions it deserves.
Another adventure for the books. Enough said.
Check these out to learn more:
Best Website to See Photos and Videos of San Fermin
Info on what the heck San Fermin is
I saw this man on a stretcher after the Bull Run on Friday. Here is a picture of him being gored. It was a bloody mess.
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