Those who run with bulls ...

This weekend I had an impromptu invite for a road trip to Pamplona, Spain to run with the bulls.  Running with the infamous bulls was certainly a fantasy I had imagined, like many, many others, but I hadn't thought I would actually be there one day.  Humbly, it was such a kind, unconditional offer ...  sooo, yes!  I accept!

The festival of San Fermin as it is known, is a social celebration marking the old transition of passing the bulls from the farm to the arena for slaughter and respecting the "Saint" Fermin.  To me the gesture carries a sense of romance.  It is the largest, most known Spanish festival in the world.

A 4+ hour road trip from Barcelona  - first through the green foot hills of Cataluna into the dry white hot desert and then back into the land of flowers - Navarro.  Every quiet moment was worth more than face-value - the scenery was cornflower blue skies and yellow-gold grain dotted with fields of olive and fruit trees.

We rented a flat from airbnb - which for me was a first, but in this situation it just fit.  Our new mates were a joy - bringing us red scarves and delighting us with their little kitty (whom had her own little attitude and scarf for the day).  Couldn't have been more kind.

Day one at San Fermin starts at12 Noon with rockets and ringing bells signifying the beginning of the nine day festival.  You are not allowed to wear your scarf before this time, so all raise their red scarves in the air and promptly at 12N tie them around their necks.  (Mind you, gallons of cheap sangria and watered down red wine is being chucked into the air at the same time, resulting in quite the scene and those pink shirts you see everywhere).

Anyway, after that massive experience the like-dressed people flood the narrow streets of the historic town, popping into the bars / dancing / eating sandwiches of jamon y queso / peeing / tossing wine / passing out in the parks ... makes very interesting people watching.   And the fact that everyone is in the same outfit does provide for a peaceful, unifying experience.  I had a wonderful time ... and I learned that in some parts of the world Coca Cola mixed with red wine is the #1 drink I want to order.  Don't knock it 'til 'ya try it.

Though a lot of this trip was about fun and adventure, I should mention the bull fight itself, which we made a good decision to attend Friday night.  I am a carnivorous snout-to-tail person, but it is still quite unnerving to witness the torture and death caused in the ring.  {Frankly I had naively questioned whether bullfighting was still legal - yes, it is in Spain apparently}.

From my point of view I can still see a glimmer of the past.  Back in the day the men of the farms did need to lure the bulls close enough so they could be slaughtered by the sword - but in modern times this is a gruesome sport where old women and children alike scream for the matador to cut off the giant fuzzy ear of the bull he just stabbed in the brain.  Gross.  And I suppose I personally identify with the bull, not the matador, so this feels like adding insult to injury.

Back to the fiesta ... Saturday after delightful naps in the park, wondering delis to buy local cheese and wine, doing wine squirt contests from our hip "bota" to our own mouths and those of passers-by, we found a local spot to have a sit down meal and a wonder back to the bus pass the popping fireworks overhead the singing masses stained in pink.

Although we did wake up at 6AM that morning to get to the race (which starts at 8AM each morning of the fiesta) we did not actually run with the bulls ... I know, disappointing, but I am telling you, that is not a tourist activity.  Bulls run very fast, they are humongous, the streets are narrow with tight turns and those horns are reeeeally pointy - not to mention, many have stayed up the entire 20+ hours from the 12 Noon kickoff and don't exactly have their wits about them.  Of all the 1,000s of people I saw run into the stadium, I only saw two girls.

Though I really would have loved to have been straddling the fence as the adrenaline of bulls and young men raced by, my San Fermin experience was a perfect seat right up close in the Plaza de Toros where the bulls and crowd race to the finish.  Exhilarating!  And after the wide-eyed runners get into the stadium there is quite a bit of comedy as they actually release some smaller, less risky bulls back into the stadium.  Oh how the people run!  Ha ha ha.

Anyway, I am glad I had the opportunity to travel across Eastern Spain to breath the air in that round stadium and be one of those that runs with bulls (well, close enough).