Sunday, 21 July 2013

San Fermin - Pamplona


It was the school holidays, like any other day when having endless time and nothing better to do, the girl who had been reading her book turned on the tv when her favourite program came on.
That day it showed Pamplona, the running with the bulls festival and she thought that was the coolest but weirdest festival in Spain and hoped to go someday.

The gods must be smiling on me because THAT DAY arrived and to my luck I happened to be in the right country at the right time. I just had to make my way there and if I missed this opportunity;
a) I will regret and wished I had gone
b) I might never have the same chance revisit Spain in the summer

I had planned on going in the beginning of the week with other friends from the hostel however a nice but unexpected turn of events led to a roadtrip that turned out to be a fantabulous time that night

We arrived just when it was about to become fully dark but not before we were beheld by the public.
EVERYONE WAS IN WHITE WITH RED NECKERCHIEVES AND SASHES!!
A good thing to pay heed to advice from a fellow CSer on the do's and don'ts ( actually more do's and hardly any don't as a matter of fact). A few of us bought some el cheapo white garments from a Chinese bargain store ( I love how they are everywhere,even in small little towns!)

We took a bus into town just before the fireworks at 11pm. Within minutes of we each had a beer in hand. It was the best night of my life this summer as we went through the crowd, dancing and drinking. At one point "Gangnam style" started blaring out from the speakers and I became the centre of attention! Ack I had to run away from everyone that wanted me to dance to Gangnam style....excuse me but I'm not Psy!


The next day we were up bright and early for the 8 o'clock bull run. We headed straight to the arena instead of being in the crowd. We were all excited, the minutes ticked by slowly and finally the first runner entered the arena and the crowd cheered. Soon more runners streamed in through the entrance.



Then the worst thing in 50 years happened, a stampede. It was just a matter of seconds, one runner stumbled and fell. The ensuing runners all fell over the first and then a wall of people piled up on top of the fallen runners. Silence and then a low murmur in the crowd as people sat speechless with what was happening in front of their eyes. One mother turned away with her eyes squeezed shut but her child beside her stared unsure of what he was seeing. People ran to the blocked entrance, trying to pull the people out from the wall and then a shriek came. 

The bulls had arrived and the one ton animals pushed into the wall, one even stepping over the wall of people to enter the arena. Even the bulls were agitated, as it was confused by the human blockade.
 My German friend was in tears and I was feeling helpless from the stands. Staring in disbelief at the scene in front of me.
The people somehow got free, as paramedics rushed people away in stretchers, while the bulls ran into the exit opposite.




Later , as the crowd settled, the program went on , all the able runners in the middle of the arena, waiting for fresh bulls or perhaps the one from the bull run to reenter,. Then the dance of bravado commenced. People slapping the rump, running in circles around the bulls, irritating them. Finally the bulls charged. Such beautiful noble creatures, with soulful eyes, bred for entertainment and cruel sport. I thought I was doing the least cruel spectating, only to find out later the running bulls don't survive. They go into a bullfight in the afternoon with the matador.

The next day we saw the papers and read the online news of what happened.



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