Running of the Bulls=Hunger Games of Europe....

Plaza de Toros in Pamplona....

I have officially decided that The Running of the Bulls is a drunken version of the Hunger Games. I remain unconvinced that trapping a few hundred participants in a fenced off area with angry young bulls for the sake of “tradition” is a good idea. The people of San Fermin don’t seem to agree with me though.  

Buying bandanas in Pamplona

I arrived in Pamplona Friday night with nine other students. While driving into the city, we were astounded at how many people there were. Even more shocking though was the fact that every single one of them was wearing white and red. When we finally got off our bus, we bought ourselves red bandanas and pushed our way out into a massive park filled with lounging smokers, beer vendors and massive amounts of trash. I could only gawk at the spectacle. This naïve Mormon girl was definitely not in Utah anymore. 

First view getting out of bus station in Pamplona

All movement around Pamplona was extremely slow. With so many groups of people pushing around, it was hard to not lose anyone. We explored a little food area close to the park for an hour but quickly returned to watch the fireworks. I don’t think I’ve seen fireworks so large in my life. The show was impressive, but the amount of people around us being illuminated with every explosion took the cake. I don’t think I have ever seen so many people in one place in my entire life.

After the firework display, most normal people would go back to a hotel, right? Right. However, the schedule behind the whole Running of the Bulls presents a problem for the incoming tourists who didn’t plan out everything months in advance. (Some of us call it a problem; others call it a convenient opportunity to get drunk) The actual run happens at 8 in the morning. If you’re not camped out along the streets or against the Plaza de Toros before then, however, you’ll never have a chance to see a thing. The buses to Pamplona only run until about 10:30 at night, so most people have to arrive the night before and spend the following hours in the streets and the parks. I knew the adventure was going to be a bit sketchy, but I had NO idea how horrible it was really going to be.

The two or three hours after the firework show, we walked around a street fair. I adored the window-shopping and, like a good little tourist, felt tempted to buy something from every booth I came across. I didn’t have the room or the money to buy llama blankets, zillions of handcrafted, leather purses, celebrity yarn dolls or bongo drums, so I contented myself in watching all of the other tourists buy everything up. The music was as lively as the lights were bright. I loved every minute of it. The booths closed at 1:30 though, and we quickly found ourselves needing to kill a few more hours.

Shopping in the streets of Pamplona

The streets were absolutely crazy by this time though. Everyone around us was buzzed or drunk, their white shirts and pants stained with spilled beer and wine. The air was rank and the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol permeated everything. Vendors crept in between the groups of drunken people and tried to convince them to buy cheap sunglasses or more beer. Little side stands offered free glasses of beer for anyone who could hit a large target three times in a row. Ambulances flew by every few minutes. Latin music blared from all directions.

You can easily imagine that the sentence “I’m going to die” flashed across my mind more than once.

Me and Sam trying not to sit in anything gross as we walked through the city

We drifted between bars and clubs for a few hours, always walking towards the direction of the Plaza. I can honestly say that I have never been so afraid for my life. My parents told me over and over again before I went that I needed to be vigilant. I was a bit more than vigilant; I think I went into survival mode. My adrenaline was running on high. I laugh now because I was determined to be a CSI agent back in 8^th grade during my action thriller book stage. I don’t quite think that dangerous cities and situations are my cup of tea. ;)

Around 4:00 we arrived at the Plaza de Toros. We collapsed against the outside wall and huddled against the chilly morning breezes. I tried to rest a bit, but couldn’t convince my eyes to close.  Instead, I watched people pass out as they hobbled home, shirtless drunks yelling at their mangy dogs, and even a few lucky folks who couldn’t keep down the contents of their stomach. (Yup—Gross.)

Plaza de Toros at 6 AM

[This is where I insert my absolute adoration and appreciation for the group that I went with. I think they could tell that everything was a bit much for me, and they tried really hard to keep me happy, warm and safe.  Thank heavens for them...]

 Around 6, we were able to buy tickets to go into the Plaza, and we rushed in as quickly as we could. We were one of the first groups of people to get in, so we ended up getting the best spot in the entire plaza. We took a few pictures then tried to sleep while people started filing in. It didn’t last long though because by 7 the arena was full. I don’t know how everyone wasn’t dying of a hangover, but their energy was full blast and they were ready to see some action. 

The group trying to sleep

I don't know what song this is....but the people in the arena broke out into singing it about every 3 minutes....

Drinking and smoking continued on at full blast, too. I was even so fortunate as to have the guy sitting behind me spill most of his beer all over my seat. 

Beer smells gross...the end. 

Yahoo. Right around 8 I felt someone slip in right next to me. I turned to look, and some random middle-aged man with a massive bump between his brows had squeezed in between a pole and me.  It was definitely a night of randomness.

Random guy trying to squeeze in my spot?...awkward

At 8:08 (give or take a minute) the run began. There were two large screens in the plaza for us to watch the run and we all cheered as the bulls began tearing through the streets. The run seemed pretty anticlimactic though because 2 minutes after it started, it was over.  Beside a few scratches and bruises, everyone seemed fine. Hundreds of people remained in the ring in the center or the arena, and, to my surprise, they let out one of the smaller bulls a few minutes later. It was a mad house. The bull charged after the crowd, and the audience roared with enthusiasm. This continued for another 20 minutes or so, and then it was all over.

The runners begin to enter the plaza

Setting a young bull on the loose

...Olé! 

We raced back to the bus station with the masses and quickly bought our ticket back home. By 9:45 we were on a bus heading back to Logroño. Doing laundry, showering, sleeping and feeling safe have never felt so good.

To the dear city of Pamplona---

Your streets and tourists are thoroughly disgusting, and I will affectionately remember you as Sodom #2.  Thank you only for giving me a story to tell, for not killing me and for providing me with a cute bandana. May we never meet again.

Forever never yours,

Me