Pamplona, July 2010

Boy do the Spanish know how to party. And so do Aussies and Kiwis!
Phill and I both signed up about six months ago to volunteer with a tour company at the San Fermin Festival (Running of the Bulls). It was a hectic week which we started 4 days early with the volunteer crew - about 20 Aussies, Kiwis and a token Pom. We set up 200 tents in the heat of the Spanish sun and were rewarded with ridiculous amounts of alcohol and amazing food impressively cooked by Dirty Pillows. That night we drank with the volunteer crew from the Top Deck tour, met some cool people and got to know eachother. We still had another day of work, fixing tents and rabbiting about a bit, but that was rewarded, again, with ridiculous amounts of alcohol - this time Sangria, which was basically a mix of red wine and any hard alcohol Jamie, the Aussie guy in charge of us ground crew, could get his hands on. It was potent but made for a great night of singing and dancing in enclosed spaces. We celebrated being awesome at firefighting (the scrub around the campsite went up in flames because it was so hot! - so there were 20 Aussies running around with buckets of water and fire extinguishers. But it was ok, we got free beer).
The opening day of the festival, July 6, was the biggest street party in the world. Young and old, Spanish and tourists, lined the streets of Pamplona. Everyone without exception wore white, a red sash around the waist, and a red bandana first around the wrist, then worn around the neck when the festival officially kicked off with a rocket at midday.
Then came the sangria. We drunk alot, but we threw even more over eachother. Phill's beard, already a phenomenon, went to a whole new level when the Beard Shot was invented. Pour sangria through the beard - 'pour Sangria high off the cheekbone, allowing it to filter down to the tip of the beard, gaining all the nutritiousness and awesomeness of ginger infused sangria'. Strangers did it. Phill drank out of a mannequins leg and we taught some Spanish boys the classic Australian song - 'tits out for the boys'. Bless them, I hope it worked for them at least once.

People die on the opening day. There is a statue that people jump off, into the crowd, hoping to be caught - some aren't. The main town square is packed with people so you literally can't move. Champagne bottles are thrown, people lose their shoes and there is broken glass everywhere. Not to mention sangria, mustard, tomato sauce, flour and eggs in the eyes! Families still walk around, kids in strollers, aware that at any minute a spontaneous street parade could start up and they could be caught in the middle.

But man is it a party!

Then, of course, there is the actual running of the bulls. Each morning at 8am, 6 bulls (plus one each day, for 7 days) especially bred to be agro, are let free to run through the narrow streets of Pamplona to the bull ring. Thousands of Spaniards and tourists wait to catch a glimpse of the beasts before sprinting as fast as they can towards the bull ring. The runners aren't allowed to touch any part of the bull, even if it is gouging them, but they are allowed to hit it on the head with a rolled up newspaper - which one isn't monitored.

Once the bulls make it to the bull ring, they are ushered (that sounds too polite...) through the exit on the other side. Hundreds of men and a few sneaky women are now in the bull ring, all in red and white. And then they let another bull out! This is a younger bull with balls taped around the tips of its horns, so it's not as dangerous. But the men taunt and tease the bull until it charges into a pack of people and hopefully gouges someone in the arse. It's very entertaining.

I watched the bull run from the stands in the bullrun, looking for a ranga with a beard while watching the baby bull charge. Phill did the run, saw the bulls but was the first one to not be allowed into the bull ring (by a woman cop...). Some crazy Spaniards (and a crazy Aussie from the camp crew) knelt down at the entrance to the bull ring, where they let the baby bulls in. This bull, charged up from all the taser shots I'm sure the give it, absolutely charges through these people, all kneeling pack up against the gate. It's surprising how much air the bull can get in order to clear so many people. There were always one or two guys that got kicked in the head or stomped on by the bull. A couple of people got knocked out, a couple of people got punched by Spaniards for holding the bull.

Each night of the nine day festival is a party. Carparks become bars, streets are dancefloors and every person is a friend. It was great for us to stay in the one place for 8 days, with free accommodation and a great bunch of people to party with. We were also taken to San Sebastian - a beach with waves! - for one last hurrah with the volunteer crew before the epic bus ride back to London.