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Published: September 21st 2011
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Toro, Toro!
The summer was upon us apparently in the UK, wind rain and grey skies so the break with two of my closest friends around north and central Spain for ten days was very welcomed. We had hired a car and planned to drive from Girona to Pamplona enjoy the running of the bulls (tick off my to do list) before heading down to Madrid, Valencia before the drive up the coast to Girona and home.
After a traditional morning pint in Bristol Airport we had landed in Girona picked up our car and were on the road, Steve holding the stick and Ben navigating up top leaving me to doze in the back. A five hour drive through Zaragoza and we had arrived in Pamplona greeted by a city completed adouring the red and white of San Fermin.
It was a fasinating sight to see EVERYONE old and young adouring the colours of the festival. We bought ours in a local shop before eventually arriving at the campsite. By now we were tired and restless after booking for an extortionate rate for a week at the Ezcaba campsite we had to pitch two tents in the
rock hard spanish grounds and a low patients threshold. We suceeded though and after a couple of drinks settled down before the early start the next morning of the bull run.
I bought a thin sleeping back unlike my friend Ben who I could hear his teeth chatter through the night as he battled in vain to sleep covered in jumpers and coats. The rock hard floor and freezing temperatures ensured that when the camp started waking at five preparing for the run, it took one almighty effort to get out of my bag and into the freezing cold Spanish morning in my whites.
We arrived an hour before the run scrambling round to find out where we were supposed to be dashhing down streets and up steps before ducking through some fencing into the run are itself. We all felt a sense more of confusion than anything else a lot of people crammed into an area waiting for 45 minutes all in there whites, some still going from the nights drinking of the day before and not the expected adrenaline fear sensation assoiciated with sky diving or the bungee.
We were jostled continuously further down the
street by police before the horn went off. We all started to jog again in a state of confusion about what was happening, people hugging the walls in a dog eat dog senario there were no friends on the run for the next five minutes where every man was out for himself.
WE all bounced up and down hearts started to pump a little faster we chanted and the seStephen took off like Michael Johnson, Ben lagged cautiously to the walls while I tried to follow a Spaanish guy with a newspaper who had seemed to have done this before. Then suddndly it all sped up an increased sense of paniked people started to trip infront and people on them I did my best Colin Jackson hurdle to jump the casualties and stay on my feet. Then the bulls passed in a flash Land Rovers with horns careering down the cobbled streets with no one I could see foolish enough to get in there way. By the time I had got to the last gate the police had shut it so no more runners could enter the stadium.
Again a sense of confusion weather the run was over
for 30 seconds before like a parting of the red sea people scurried to the sides as three more bulls headed up the road to the closed gate. I stood frozen at the front of a three deep que of people on one side of the wall in a state of shock wondering what the next move of one of these bulls whos path had been blocked by the gate, he turned and gored a man in orange, people scurried like ants looking for an exit through a side gate before the gate was opened to let the bulls through. As I stood down a side lane a girl in her mid twenties help my hand she was petrified sheer fear in her face I lead her through to the main area before heading up the the staduim, which by now the gates were closed. I met my fried Ben, who also on the wall while the confused bull roamed by the closed gates and we swapped accounts of the event while we headed into the staduim to see what was happening inside.
Here we were greeted by a stadium of Spanish locals cheering the bull ring below as
the runners who made it before the gate closed careered around in the stadium with a bullock in the most crazy game of tag I have seen. The crowd cheered as the bullock gored down tourists and the silky footwork of those who outmanoved the bull like a matador. Six bullocks in all came out with Steve of of those in the stadium outmanovering the bulls. I had to get in there so would have to run again. After the last bullock we met Steve outside adrenaline pumping from the bull tag in the areana. We headed back to the camp-site to freshen up and catch up on some sleep.
The searing Spanish afternoon sun had other ideas so we headed up the road to San Sebastian which was stunning. Providing one of Spain most beautiful beaches offered excellent respite after the days excursions. After a few hours in the sun we headed back to Pamplona for a night of heavy drinking round the square with the other revellers of Pamplona.
An early morning bus ride later and an afternoons sleep and we headed into San Sebastian again to recover on the beach. We decided to spend the
night up here and booked into a hotel and enjoyed a night out in a fantastic club on the front before heading back to the hotel.
The fourth day we woke incredibly rough and me and Steve parked ourselves on the beach to recover while Ben explored San Sebastian as he was heading home tomorrow via Madrid. We had some Dinner in San Sebastian before heading back to Pamplona where we enjoyed the atmosphere before turning in for the night.
An early start dropping Ben to the train station we said our good byes before heading off to do the bull run again. By now we knew what to expect and less apprehensive about the situation. This time I was determined to get into the stadium so kept good pace and had a great sense of relief that I had made it in. The last bulls streamed past now the game of bull-tag began. This was more frightening than the bull as the idea was to touch the bullock. They would come out very quick and slow down the longer they were out in the arena. Still though with every step I edged forward I lept back 10
when the bull turned my way. By the fourth bull my heart couldn't take any more and watching a Japanese lad get gored and trampled before jumping up high-fiving the masses truly chuffed by his mauling experience!
We headed back got our heads down for a few hours before we had tickets to the bull run in the night. We had bought the cheaper tickets in the non-shaded area, WOW, I literally though our faces were going to melt of as we melted in the 5pm 38 degree heat, the Spanish laughed at the sweaty welsh lads we continued to de-hydrate ourselves with large bottles of San Miguel. No one really seemed to watch the bull fight instead showered each other with booze and shares their food around while I found the bull fight quite cruel and needless understood it was part of their culture.
After the bullfight we were shattered spend a few last hours strolling round Pamplona before hitting the hard hay one last time and the next leg of our adventure Madrid.
I would recommend San Fermin to everyone a truly unique experience like anything I had experience and a great way to experience
some Spanish culture. Running with the bulls is not as daunting as first feared there were some truly mad soles who ran in front of the bulls and chased the bullocks around the area I was happy enough to have watched them by and simply survive! So come enjoy the general lunacy of San Fermin enjoy yourself and go nuts for a few days in the red and white of this great town!
Till the next time,
El Torro Frygo xxxxx
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BarryONeill
Barry
Still living the dream!
I love it man, great tale. Its inspiring me to pick up the proverbial pen slash keyboard and belt out a new blog!! I love the way you find time to go on these adventures even though your still working during the week. None of my mates would ever go with me. Your a born traveler, you probably came out of the womb with a compass!! keep it up my good man!! Sir Bizy Bizzlington