Clad in all white and a little buzzed, I made my way to the bus station feeling a little awkward. Yes, they could all guess where I was off to, but I still felt a little weird wearing white head to toe. It would all be worth it when I made it to Pamplona.
That’s right, I was off to Sanfermines, the Running of the Bulls, the festival made famous in Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and the event that has inspired more debauchery across the world. Originally a festival, as I gather, to honor Saint Fermin, a martyr, the weeklong party has evolved into a multinational gathering of people (apparently one million people) who wear white only for it to become soaked in red wine, sangria and calimocho. There also happens to be a bunch of bulls running down the streets at 8 in the morning.
I meet Caitlyn, David and Hillary at the bus station and we start off on the two hour ride to Pamplona. Once at our destination, we start our long night with some food and, of course, a little bit of alcohol. We don our newly obtained red bandanas and sashes and head out into the streets.
The streets are packed with people. Have you ever gone to a costume party with a super sweet costume only to find out that somebody had the same idea as you? Well, imagine that you went to a party with 100,000 people and not just one, but the other 99,999 people decided to wear the same thing as you. Well, that was what this was like, except expected. It was incredible. The atmosphere of everyone, young and old, Spanish and guiris and everyone in between wearing the same outfit, celebrating in the streets with you, it was great.
Add to this the fact that we were greeted with a barrage of fireworks, I couldn’t ask for anything better. I missed the fireworks on the 4th, but four days later worked!
After the firework display we found our Italian friends: Giulia, Simone, Andrea, Margherita and her sister at a concert. The concert featured all the current hits. Excuse me, I mean all the current hits if it were 1987. We jammed out to “Ghostbusters” and “Highway to Hell” and “Smoke on the Water” in a crowd of happy drunk Spaniards.
At one point after the concert I got super sleepy and wanted to take a nap on the ground in the park. This was not a planned break. Take this as you will.
After this break, I was back up wandering the streets. It was probably around 4 or 5 am and things had started to die down. Surprising, as this was Spain and the party doesn’t usually quit until the sun (also) rises, but I guess people had been partying since the afternoon, the morning, or the day before even, and people were on different party schedules. The streets were still very busy though.
Well, all pretty tired, we found a place on some steps near the route of the run and settled in. I talked to some fellow Americans who were teaching in Spain for the summer and waited for the whole goal of the trip.
At around 7:30 am the crowd started moving, getting anxious. The brave men (and one very ballsy woman) started to make their way into the street to get bowled over by bulls. The people with the money and wherewithal of renting a balcony started to emerge from the buildings. You could feel the energy and tension mounting.
At 8 am I heard a firecracker. The bulls had been released. Less than a minute later the people started to run. The bravest stuck around a little longer. Soon we saw the bulls. Seconds later they had passed. Everything was a blur. I’m not too sure I saw all the bulls. All that remained was the aftermath. One guy had been trampled or horned a little before our stretched of road and the police and authorities rushed to him. Other than that, just as soon as it happened, the barriers were taken down and the crowd took to the streets again.
We said goodbye to the Italians as they caught their bus back to Santander and promptly passed out in the grass, awaiting another event of Sanfermines: Cabezudos y Gigantes, a parade of people dressed up with gigantic heads. Our information was wrong though, because after an hour of waiting we still didn’t see any giants parading down the streets. Dang.
More sleeping in the field and we decided to see if we could catch an earlier bus. Nope. Well, we hung out in the bus station a couple of hours and then caught our bus back to Bilbao, happy, tired, hungry, a little hungover and again, happy to have taken part in one of the biggest parties there is.
I look forward to coming back. Next time, I might just run. Not the whole course, but maybe like 20 meters before jumping into the safety of the barriers. Or at the very least renting a balcony. Also, hopefully staying for the fights and seeing the Cabezudos y Gigantes. But either way, I can check that off the bucket list.
