SAN FERMIN!!!

A day after the World Cup, I was on a train to another historical Spanish city. This time, I was literally stepping back into history and tradition as my train took me through Catalunya, Aragon, and Navarra to the city of Pamplona.

Again, right after arriving I found a traveling companion, this one an American with excellent Spanish language skills. We went exploring and found that everything of importance in Pamplona is within easy walking distance. We were out late, which was a mistake because we barely were able to find a good spot the next morning when we arrived at 6:0o…

What was it that we were waiting for? Why, it was the running of the bulls. Pamplona’s Festival of San Fermin commemorates the martyred saint who was dragged to death by bulls through the streets of Pamplona. Every year the festival extends from the 6^th to the 14^th of July. Every morning at eight there is a running of the bulls. Over a million people come visit every year, due in no small part to Ernest Hemmingway’s book The Sun Also Rises. For the record, I think I love Pamplona as much as Hemingway did. I had one single amazing day where I saw everything!!

It started with the early morning spot on fence…

Not a comfortable place for one’s butt, but it had to do. We waited…and waited, until finally the police began to clear the two kilometer long run…

Here are the runners awaiting the arrival of the bulls, they are happy now…

A few seconds later it’s excited terror…

Six fighting bulls are making their way to the arena escorted by enormous, but mild tempered steers…

We were not far from the arena so we walked there to see the release of young cows with wrapped horns into the crowd of former runners. Highly amusing. For anyone who wants to do this, something I didn’t know until I got to Pamplona was that it is forbidden, by popular custom, to grab the horns. Anyone purposefully doing this in the bullring will be shouted at by the crowd. “Hijo de Puta!!—Son of a whore.” If the perpetrator was particularly out of line he will probably be slapped, punched, kicked, and forcefully thrown from the ring, all to much cheering from the arena crowd. Again, highly amusing.

Here are some of my pictures…

They extricate each cow after so many minutes so as not to exhaust it. They lead out a huge steer with whom the smaller fella takes refuge.

Again, much fun. You could call it the children’s event, because there certainly a lot of them there enjoying.

They also enjoyed this bronze work…

As did I…

One thing about San Fermin is the unity of good natured fun, cheap food and booze, and of course the dress code…

Speaking of which, here is a picture of me in front of the mayor’s home, where the whole thing starts. We had just made a run to the store to get a wine sack and some wine for it J

The rest of the day we wandered, talking to people and enjoying the fortress city of Pamplona…

San Fermin himself!!!

At 6:00, it was back to the arena for the six bullfights…

Here are men who carry out the bullfight, the cuadrilla or entourage…

They don’t all do every fight, but there are six so there is enough work for division.

It starts by taking the most powerful charges out of the bull…

[WARNING] For those who think of this tradition as barbaric, backward, and gruesome, go no further unless you want to see these pictures. I am not one for hiding the truth.

Next the two picadors come out to take the power out of the bull’s back muscles with a lance…

This happens at least twice, but it usually only one picador who does the jabbing. He is usually the more experienced one. I never saw the secondary picador take a turn in any of the fights.

Next three banderilleros, take turns driving three pairs of flags into the bull’s back…

Sometimes the matador actually does this, to stir up the crowd and earn more renown. This is second matador who did this for both of his fights. He was actually an excellent matador, very skilled and extremely daring…

Speaking of matadors, they are the stars. Their part is the longest and is where one shouts “Ole!!” when an impressive display has occurred.

He always carries a sword, but it is the second sword he retrieves from the side that is used for the death blow. A strike between the shoulder blades that goes down to the aorta and through the heart. I have here, pictures from two of the bullfights. You always know when he is going for it…

The aftermath as the matador is cheered by the crowd and the crew goes to work…

If you have ever wondered what it is like to be in the Roman Colosseum watching gladiators, go to a Plaza del Torro and watch a bullfight.

The whole experience was unforgettable and I hope to return one day. When so much happens in a single day, you cannot help but enjoy the experience. For one who loves history and tradition, this was the highlight of my travels in Europe. Not for this entire journey, but definitely in Europe. The Frenchman behind me in the arena put it thus: “I came here…first time…I was 18. I come every year. I am 44. Es mi vido.”