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Published: July 22nd 2006
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'Enceirno' is what the Spanish call the Festival de San Fernim. It is a festival to celebrate Saint Fermin that uses what all spanish festivals use to celebrate a saints day. Bullfights; of course. But this city sought to it long ago that they would always be different by letting the bulls run through the streets to the bull ring on their own. Then it so happened that young men, in attempts to prove their bravery, would run out in front of the giant beasts. That city, of course, is Pamplona; and Enceirno, as the Spanish call it, is better known to you and me as 'The Running of the Bulls'. It was immortalized in Hemmingways' novel 'The Sun Also Rises', and Enceirno is still alive and well today. But not just doing well. It has a reputation of being one of Europes (and possibly the worlds) biggest parties. It definately lives up to the hipe. We could not find accomidation anywhere near Pamplona from weeks before. So we were forced to sign-up for a tour that was going down to Pamplona for the run and offered accomidation.
The tour that we signed up for included the long bus ride
down from London to Pamplona (Pamps), and had all the makings of a college Spring Break extravaganza. Complete with NON-stop drinking, yelling, drunk tour leaders, and ass cheeks pressed against the windows of fellow bus riders that passed us. I could have done with a few hours of sleep though. At first I kept quiet, and attributed it to my age (ever-increasing as it is). But I soon discovered that I was not the only one unwilling to drink and party for all 20 hours of the bus ride. I know what you are thinking. "Why not?" And given that I were with a group of friends, I might obligue and possibly conduct. But not with a group of entire strangers, some of which, I severly disliked. Lets face it, in a group that big, there are going to be a few asses. And not just the ones witnessed smashed up against the windows. My experience was no exception. Even the bus drivers (Dave and Mike), were getting fed up.
After a while Katie had had enough and we had a couple of discussions about a particularly drunk tour leaders actions. That got a bit heated and sparked off
other people complaining and even some threats. Love a good arguement. Things were said and people were pissed. That is the short version. But that was just the bus ride.
Arrived in Pamps and kept driving on through to our campsite. It was a little city unto itself. Situated 40 mins outside of Pamplona and down the hill from a very small town, we had a shared dorm room, swimming pool, bar, market, resturant, and hundreds of tents. It looked like a military instalment, except that it was filthy in a few days from all the partying. It never seemed to stop.
Of course P.E.T.A. was there, in Pamps, protesting the bull run and subsequent fights. They protest with a run through town with people only, in the 'buff'. It is called The Running of the Nudes. Well, Pamplona Police don't like naked people, so they make them cover up. As a result, people do the run in their undrewear. Well, some of them. There is still some nudity, but covered with protest signs. Very interesting.
Next day was Opening day ceremonies. Dressed in all white with a red sash around our waists and a bandana wrapped
That's more like it.
One slab of beer just isn't enough sometimes. at the wrist. Headed into town early in the morning to the town square. A sea of people in white and red dance the morning away drinking champaign, and sangria while throwing eggs, and flour at eachother. Streets around the square spider out from the center of town with only the tops of peoples heads vissible from above. The crowd heeves with the heaviness of celebration and drunkeness. Then, at mid-day, the mayoress comes onto the balcony of the town hall and officially opens the festival. That signals the traditional removing of the bandanas from around your wrist and placing them around the neck. Now, in propper dress, everyone commences to continue the festivals in bars and squares all over the city. Never, in my life have I ever seen anything like this. Insanity is its best description. People climbed up water drains to balconies and tossed beach balls into crowds. A massive futbol/soccer jersey got passed around the crowd that covered 80 people at a time. Others climbed up statues and dove into crowds. It was amazing.
Barely made the shuttle back to camp after Katie woke me up from my heavy nap in the park. Got back
Yes he was dancing...
And, yes his shirt says "Tough Old Bird". No explination beyond that. to camp and the party continued on through the night, right till the morning, when we all had to get up at 5:30 as to make it into town for the actual run. We chose not to run at my behesting. Instead signed up for a balcony view from someones home. The group of us headed to this couples home in town with 2nd story views of the main square and the Dead Man's Corner part of the run. Lovely couple. Sr & Sra Velencia were very gracious hosts. He was a classic looking proffesor type, complete with white beard and a stern look about his face. His younger wife was Cambodian and petite with her features as well as her demeanor. They made coffee and tea for all of us and even recorded the run from the TV and played it over and over again for us to watch. Even gave us a copy.
The entire group was from London which included mainly Australians (Katie felt quite comfortable in the group). But non-the-less I ended up the only one there who knew any spanish. So I served as translater of the poorest level. Turned out that Sr Velencia
Drink up baby!
This is how people pass time in Pamplona. was a music professor and played the accordian. One person in the group spotted his keboards in the living room and tryed to ask if he played. It was misunderstood, and before we knew it, the man was giving us a personal concert of traditional spanish music on his accordian. Everyone loved it. Then I asked what was typical to do for the festival, to which he replied. "Drink, of course." But he said it was very typical to drink Muskatel and have some cookies. Really nice mix. Had a good time talking there with him about the festival and its traditions. But like all good things, it came to an end all too soon. So, our little group went on our way back to partyville and enjoyed the day back at camp. There are so many stories about Pamplona, that I can not possibly put them all into this blog. It is too long as it is. But, I would very much like to get back to that festival. Maybe next time I will run. Ya right. I am quite happy with the number of holes in my body.
We were all set to go back into Pamps
Navarra
Storm the castle. for the second run on the following day. There are two in all. Of course we already saw one run and how different could another be? Plus, we really didn't like where we were staying, and we met some others that were heading out that night before 4am. They asked us to join them and I thought; Why not?... Where we would end up, I really didn't know. All I knew is that we were heading north into France.
PS: The website has fixed the photo problem. So I re-loaded the photos from the previous blog. Now you can see Lydia and Sam in all their glory. Check out some good photos, if you have the chance.
I would also like to take this chance to welcome some newcomers to the blog (some of which are pictured here). Welcome to the party. Enjoy.
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Justin Barth
non-member comment
OHHH a cliff hanger
I'm waiting for the next blog already