Madrid, Spain
The festival of San Fermin takes places every year in Pamplona starting the evening of July 6th and reaching full height by July 7th with the famous running of the bulls. Although the bulls tradition possibly pre-dates the festival, it becomes associated with San Fermin supposedly because he was martyred by being dragged through the streets by a bull. During the festival, pretty much everyone takes to the streets of the old city, dresses in the traditional dress of a white shirt, white pants, a red neckerchief, and a red stash, and gets wildly drunk before committing themselves the next morning to run away from 500kg animals who can cover 150m in just over 14 seconds.
We arrived in Pamplona the night of the 6th and went into town so that Bryan could scout out the course. We did not realize that the streets would be utter pandemonium. They were choked with people wearing white and red, drinking copious amounts, and dancing. It was like Madrid all over again expect this time it was in the close in medieval heart of a city, and your shoes stuck to the ground their was so much spilled booze. Another difference was that you heard a lot of American and English voices amongst the throng as people from around the world settle on Pamplona for this festival of drinking and danger.
That evening, we had to run from a bull of sorts. Part of the tradition is that there is a fireworks bull, worn by somebody, that runs back and forth through the track, while the crowd of tightly packed thousands tries not to get burned. I got some decent pictures and managed to avoid getting burned (unlike in Madrid). Apparently, fireworks at close quarters are part of any Spanish festival.
So Bryan gets a rough idea of the course. We do not drink, and we return at 6:00am the next morning for Bryan to run the bulls. For the spectators of the running of the bulls, unless you a a balcony that over looks the course, the actual events looks more like the jogging of people in white rather than the excitement that you see on TV from the running of the bulls. At any point were spectators can watch there is a double layer of eight-foot tall fences. Medics stand behind the first fences to treat runners who hop the fence to avoid the bulls, and the crowd has to stand behind the second layer. Elena and I stood out there for over two hours pressed by a huge crowd, never saw a bull, did see a black streak that might have been a bull, but only over saw people in white jogging. It was a fairly unexciting three hours.
For Bryan, this was a completely different story. Many, if not most people, who run the bulls never actually see a bull or never get very close to one. Bryan was one of the “lucky” ones who got to get up close and personal with the irate animals. Fireworks announce the bulls progression down the track. Bryan had hoped to be towards the middle of the track where there is more space, and the bull are slightly tired by that point making them less dangerous. Instead, through some bad luck, he ended up right towards the front. After the first firework announcing the release of the bulls, he did not see anything. About 10 seconds later, her heard the second firework, and within just a few seconds, a bull was on him. The bulls covered the first 150m to where Bryan was in just under 15 seconds. Thankfully, a bull did not hit Bryan. However, a bull hit the guy behind Bryan throwing that guy into Bryan. In fact, Bryan was so close to one of the six bulls that if he’d reached out his arm, his hand would have been taken off by the bull. He got close, but he walked away with only a welt on the back of his head and a bruise on his shoulder where the guy was thrown into him. The last Bryan saw of the guy behind him, he was passed out on the ground. Bryan declared this officially the stupidest thing that he’s ever done.
To see some of my photos from San Fermin and messages by me and Bryan Click Here
To see a You Tube video of this year’s running of the bulls Click Here
Buen Camino,
Trey Comstock
