San Fermin

Hola mis amigos,

First off, let me start by saying, I consider myself to be a logical and decently smart man, but that doesn't mean I can't make some worthwhile, but stupid decisions.

The festival of San Fermin spans a week of never-ending people and parties for the little town of Pamplona. It was like nothing I've seen. It was truly the city that never sleeps. Every day thousands of people, both native and foreign, join in feasts, parades, music, and partying. Then as night rolls around the parties continue into the bars along the streets by the bullfighting ring. As it gets later and later into the night, and even into morning, the parties continue. Mind you, the entire time, every single person in this moderately sized city is wearing the exact same uniform, consisting of white pants and shirts with red sashes and red neckerchiefs. Many of which are embroidered with pictures or words celebrating the San Fermin festival. Now I mean everyone; waiters, toddlers, bus drivers, taxi drivers, store clerks, and sometimes dogs. It is a sea of red and white. When we arrived in our street clothes, we felt very very out of place. It took us all of two hours to purchase all the pieces for our suits.

So after all the white and red festive people have partied all night and stained thousands of white clothes with numerous wine stains, then it is time for the most important event; chiming in at 7:30 am, is The Encierro, or as most know it, the running of the bulls. It is a two kilometer, blocked-off, path through the streets leading to the arena. The drunk crowds still sprawling the streets, from the night before, are pushed off main roads as cleaning crews pick up and wash down the main raceways. A massive crowd slowly makes there way onto the streets, climbing over wooden fence and wall (there to protect the crowd) to gain access to this pursuit. After police prowl the setup for those too drunk to participate or stupid acting foreigners, the crowd gain their spots along the walls and balconies over looking the roads, and the news get their fair share of pre-destruction photography, then it is set to begin.  

Many runners are not lucky enough to have hotel rooms, so many people clad in white and red sleep atop backpacks in parks and benches. Teddy, Aaron, and I were lucky enough to find a hotel for the night before. Despite staying up semi-late, partying with the rest of the country of Spain as they won their first World Cup ever the night before we ran, we actually got a decent amount of sleep. And were waiting in our spots at 7:00 am for the race to start. The day before we had gone through the race path looking for the best places to take cover and which section to start at. The goal is usually (no matter where you start) to start at one point, wait for bulls to be in sight and then run probably 20 meters before diving into a doorway or climb onto windows to allow the bulls to pass by (hopefully uneventfully). Some crazies try to see how close they can be or how long to run while touching a bull, but we would not be one of them.

At first they hold all runners within a certain distance of the beginning gate so they can make sure the path is clear, then the policia allow the runners to find their spots. We stood by a kebab shop with a decent, flat, straightaway ahead of it. We start to stretch just to have something to do while we feel the anticipation. An ambitious reporter is walking around the group with a cameraman to get those lawyers shots in. If you watch German news, I'm pretty sure teddy, Aaron, and I are highlighted in stretching before the race. After 10 minutes we hear the bang of a firecracker shot up into the air. The gates are open. About a kilometer back 10 bulls are heading in our direction (six dark, mean, crazy ones and 4 lighter-shaded ones that are trained to lead the way). Everyone is jumping, bobbing up and down to make sure the see the bulls comin down the street as soon as they can. Suddenly down the road every single person flips around at the same time and is sprinting our way. It's time to run. We are all in dead sprints looking for the doorways we planned out earlier I can hear the roar and clatter of the crowd but also the bulls coming up behind me. I jump into a butchershops window well as massive beasts just fly by me, close enough to touch. A few runners are stuck in front of them trying to find a side to jump, one runner is not as lucky as I and has fallen underneath the bulls. He is trampled as he rolls. He drags himself off the path, using his arms, after the bulls pass, as he is unable to stand from his incident.

But there is no time to think. I get one breath and put my heart back into my chest and I start into a sprint once again chasing after the crowd and before them, the bulls. I have no idea where Teddy and Aaron are, but I don't have the time to start looking. I can just hope they're fine and they'll be waiting at our meeting point. I must keep running to stay ahead of the cows comin up the rear (they are the cutoff to who gets into the arena or not). I make into the grand doorway entrance and onto the sandy stage of the Pamplona Bullfighting Arena, as a packed stadiums looks down onto us and cheers. I make my way over to "3 o clock" on the arena floor and Aaron is there waiting for me. We take in the huge arena and all the runners flowing into it's main ring. The bulls from the run have already been guided off the floor and it gives us a chance to take in the atmosphere. They shut the doors and cutoff the rest of the runners who did not make it in in time. Teddy was still no where in sight.

Soon they let out the first of six bulls that we will be allowed to "play with". The bulls will go from youngest to the larger, oldest ones. I was informed of this before and when I was told that the first would be a baby bull, I was not expecting that this "baby bull" would still be much larger than anything I wanted to get close to. So the first round consisted of us running around jus staying clear of the bull on the other side of the arena and when it came by we would jump onto or over the small wall surrounding the ring and when you were gutsy you'd jump back in. This is when we finally found Teddy. Thank god he was fine. We all made it out fine. We look at Aaron and on his pristine white shirt, it looks like he's bleeding! After further inspection, the decent sized blood spatter on the front of his uniform, was not his actually, but from another runner! From the man who got trampled? Or just someone running by with a scraped elbow? We'll never know, but made for a good souvenir.

The other bulls were quite large, so I gave my heart and adrenaline a rest and jus sat on the wall and watched the rest of the remaining idiots get pummeled and flipped by the bulls as they tried crazy maneuvers (as the crowd came to do as well). There were some decent tricks by runners, like hurdling the bull head on, and also some decent hits to keep it entertaining. And even though I was no longer in danger my heart still was racing the whole Tim, being so close to the people doing the dangerous deeds.

So I ran with bulls and survived. And I also stood in the center of the beautiful Pamplona Bullfighting Arena. A worth while experience? Definitely. And who knows, I may even tempt fate again and go for another jog down Pamplona sometime down the road. I encourage anyone to do the same, if you think you can take it; physically... and mentally. As you do something very, very stupid.

Adios,
Esteban Diebiero

Aaron - 850
Steve - 640
Teddy - 625