Spain - July 2000
chronciles

                The trip to Spain was fantastic. I left on Monday, around 1 p.m. from Dallas and arrived in Pamplona the next day. The taxi took me to my hotel near the streets where the running of the bulls takes place. My first impressions of the town of Pamplona and her surrounding landscape were as if I had just stepped back several hundred years. 

          While flying in, I saw a roman aqueduct raised up above the countryside some twenty to thirty feet and stretching for a mile that I could see. After two thousand years, it was still glorious, breathe taking.

          At Hotel Avendia, I got settled in my room, and then met, Phil, who secured my lodging there. It is very difficult during the San Vermin festival to get lodging in the city. They are usually booked a year or more in advance for this time of year. At the hotel bar, we waited for some other people Phil had helped get rooms. We started off with wine immediately.  Not impressive wine, but hey, I was in Spain, so what did it matter - lol.

          Soon, we were walking towards the Plaza del Castillo, the main plaza near the main streets of the running of the bulls, also famous for their Tapas Cafe’s mentioned in Hemingway’s, The Sun Also Rises. From there we walked down Chapitela Street, which leads to the main thorough fair where we’d be running. I was taking it all in like a child in wonderment. The buildings were old in this part of the city. Such character. So different from the states. Finally, we were guided down to the corrals where the bulls were kept. Opposite of the corrals stands the old city walls. Pamplona use to be a Roman province, and it was named after Pompey.  In the background were the mountains, rising about the steep green hills, which lay before them. It was all very picturesque.

          We walked along the route that some of us would be running the next morning until we reached the bullring. The entrance into the bullring leads at a downward decline and narrowed as one reached the big red doors. It was probably only fifteen feet across. This was the most dangerous spot on the course I had read about where scores of people were know to pile up and the bulls known to trample over dozens of people.

          Phil instructed us regarding what to expect, what to do, where to stand and run. After our briefing, we headed over to the carnival area and got our red sashes and the white clothes, the colors of the festival. Phil had already given us our white shirts and red bandana. So now, we were part of the festival. Since people don’t general eat until around 9 p.m. there, most people went back to the hotel to get a nap in. Something I realized I would need to do in the following days. Meanwhile, like a kid in a candy shop, I walked and walked, taking in the people, the stores, shops, buildings, everything.

          Wednesday morning, our small group met in the lobby at 6:45 a.m. where we picked up the newspaper of pictures from the day before. I don’t know what the significance is with the newspaper, but you roll it up. Then while you are running with the bulls, you try and reach out to touch the bulls. We headed out to the Mayor’s office, which is on the route and the place where everyone gathers. Each of the 8 days during the festival San Vermin, the mayor walks the route for good luck to the patrons.  Nick and I met a woman from New Jersey who was there with two other girl friends of hers from their college days. They had come to Europe for their 40^th birthdays. They were leaving for Paris later that day by train. Two of them were not going to run because they had children at home and thought it best not to risk injury. Nick and I later that morning after the run, ended up running into her whole group, and ended up sharing stories and wine of course, at IRUNZA Cafe, one the famous cafe’s again mentioned in Hemingway’s book. It was like the book was coming to life for me. I read it again since being home, and what a difference. I recognized so many of the names and places. Back to the run. Patti, that was her name, asked Nick and I what to do, and we explained as if we were professionals and had been there all week for previous runs. We told her about not jumping up on the fences the city put up in the streets to block off portions for the run, but to go low, tuck and roll under the wooden fence if being pursued by a bull. Otherwise, if you try and climb up, the bull can still gore you. Many people get hurt that way. We told Patti about Estafeta Street, the main street before one reaches the bullring, to keep to the side of the white lines if you can. That it was safer there. That if she was to fall, to remain on the ground and cover her head.

          By about 7:45 a.m. the crowd had swelled to thousands there in the Plaza where we waited for the street sweepers to finish up, so the police would open up the route, and we as a group could spread out along the route. Our small group walked with the crowd holding our folded newspapers up all in unison chanting the festival song of good wishes until we found the street we positioned ourselves on. It was Estafeta Street. If you have ever seen the run on the news, there is a very sharp corner, almost a 45-degree angle that turns on to Estafeta Street. This is where most of the bull crashes are. The bulls are so big, so powerful, that their weight carries them into the corner there, slipping and sliding into the wall. Many bulls will crash one upon the other there. Because of this, a bull may get separated, and this is when they are the most dangerous. We were about five hundred feet up from there on the left side. 

          We waited for the first rocket to sound off telling the crowd the bulls had been released. It was just a couple of minutes, and of course our excitement was growing. For now, we were still a group. Finally the first rocket went up and exploded over the old city. My heart leaped a little because I knew in just a few seconds those bulls would come charging by. The whole event only takes about two and half minutes and just over a half-mile in length. Suddenly, the second rocket burst into the air signifying that all the bulls were out and running. Around me people were jumping up and down as if they had springs in there feet to get a look over other’s head to see if they could see the bulls coming. It was probably about a minute after the first rocket went off, when you could see a solid wave of people rushing up the street. It sort of looked like the wake of a boat. I knew within the wake, though I could not see them yet, the bulls were there. People were running past us, bumping into to us, trying to get out of the way. The bulls were still a short distance away when Robert, Nick, and Patti took off. I still held my ground letting the main wave get by. Then I started to run, easy at first, but picking up speed as I saw the charging bulls coming up the street now. It was like playing a football game. People were shoving, pushing, and not being very nice about it. Many people were knocked down to the pavement because of the shoving. It truly was every man for himself. Once down, you were supposed to stay down and cover your head until it was over. You are not to get back up, because that is how many people get hurt. So now, I was running all out, as the first bull passed by me. I started heading towards the middle of the street as the second passed, then a third, all the while dodging and bumping others who were fleeing as I was now.

    Though I got close to the fifth bull, I was not successful in touching him. There was still the sixth and final bull some where back of me as I neared the big red door entrance of the bullring. I saw Nick and Patti in front of me. Nick shouted to head for the ring. I hesitated, in my mind, as I knew this was the most dangerous spot in the run, but I was here to experience whatever happened. So, I accelerated towards this narrow red doorway. As I approached, I saw the crowd begin to bunch up like sheep lead to a slaughter. I thought, shit, this is not good. Nick and Patti were somewhere behind me now. I don’t even remember running past them. I pushed myself through with force making a hole in the wall of people. I looked behind me as I broke out into the ring and there was the sixth bull just passing Nick and Patti. I kept on running out into the ring where hundreds of others already were. I could see Patti holding on to Nick (later she said she had a hold of his shirt tail), when the gatekeepers began closing the door because the last bull had gone through. A Spaniard detached Patti and only Nick was able to make it through.

          I turned my attention to the last bull that was now in the ring with us. The others had already passed through to the other side and out to a holding corral.

          It was an incredible feeling to run out into that bullring. It reminded me of the Roman gladiators and how they would fight in the rings. The ring was packed with thousands of people cheering on the runners and the bulls. It was all so idyllic. I was taking everything in as I looked around, but my mind was quickly thrown back into reality and where I was as I saw a wave of people part like the red sea and you see this huge angry beast heading in your directions. The running of the bulls’ just minutes before had been fun, exciting, but this was an entirely new feeling and experience. I was glad I was there. I immediately turned for the protective walls that the matadors jump behind when bull fighting. However, I could see these were full of people. The only thing to do now was to run for the wall itself and fling myself over it. Not only was the wall high, probably about six feet, but also it was aligned with hundreds people who stood behind it upon some railing, which made the wall with people over eight tall.  I thought there is no way I can jump over all these people. I would have to crash through them.  However, the bull had just turned in another direction so I only ran up to the wall. My heart was definitely feeling the adrenaline pumping now. Not like it was during the run itself.

          For the next forty minutes, we were trapped inside this bullring with no way to get out while the Spaniards would let a bull out every few minutes. The bull would run out and run around for ten minutes or so, and then they would open the gate for him to run back in to the corral area. A minute or two later, they would let another one out that would come charging towards us. A few times, they would let two out at the same time. That would be fun because Nick and I were out in the middle watching the first one, mirroring its movement when suddenly out of the corner of your eye; you see this other beast charging out into the middle of the arena.

          During this time when we were all out in the bullring, most people would try to get close to the bull and touch him. After about fifteen minutes, I felt comfortable about the layout and my exit points, that I was now going to try and touch this creature and win my badge of honor. This one man, who was obviously drunk out of his mind, was still holding a cup of beer, when the red sea began to part. I headed off to the left and I watched as everyone parted. This guy was just standing there alone with his drink (and no shirt on). Of course the bull was on him, but turned at the last minute and just harmlessly knocked him over. After watching the bullfights, I figured out the bull had turned on the guy only because he was standing still and the bull must of caught movement from somewhere else, hence just a glancing blow.  However, the second time, this guy wasn’t so lucky. Same situation, but this time the guy did start to move. The bull hit him good and with a huge toss. I saw this guy go up about 15 feet. The crowd went wild with applause and laughter.  Luckily for the guy he didn’t get hurt. The bull did not drive his horns into him and I suppose because the guy was so drunk he was to limber to be hurt. I saw other guys get trampled and knocked down by the bull’s back hip or shoulder when dodging him. One guy actually was caught by surprise by the bull, and he reached out and grabbed the bull’s horns so that he was now in between them. Again, luckily the bull was pretty exhausted by this time and he was only trampled and not gored.

I did see a couple of guys get gored. Nothing serious, but exciting.  In the ring, Nick and I got close to the bull, but just never quite able to touch him. Oh we ran from him a few times like our pants were on fire, but it wasn’t until the second of running with the bulls that I actually touched a bull with my rolled up newspaper.

          There were a few photographers positioned on the balconies to get pictures of people. Then later that day, you would head over to the main square and see if you could find yourself in any of the pictures, which at times, was not a easy thing to do. You hoped for a good shot to take home.  I found two. One each or the first and second day I ran. The third day I watched and video taped from a balcony.  Nick never could find one, but he only ran once. I wish I had run that third day.

          Like I mentioned earlier, Nick and I ran into Patti and her friends later that morning and swapped our experiences. Our group did not really run together because once you start, it is every man and woman for them selves. I saw huge crashes of people because someone would get knocked down, then of course dozen of others would trip and pile on. Once that started, you could watch the pile just grow to three or four feet within seconds, and then here comes the bull or bulls. Sometimes they would jump, but most of times just run you over you. If you were lucky, they would just leave hoof marks and not stop to gore you. A lot of people got hurt just from these kinds of accidents.

          It was one of the best experiences in my life. Later that evening, after our naps, we all met for dinner at our hotel. It was very nice and the food there was good. I wasn’t impressed with the food elsewhere. Nick informed me that this was festival food (not the hotel’s) and wasn’t a good example of Spain’s culinary arts.  Now, later when I went into France, I stopped at a store and actually ordered a sandwich. Let me tell you, that was one good sandwich.  Anyway, we all had an excellent dinner and finished off three bottles of wine. Yours truly probably knocked out one bottle or one and half. Then after dinner the cigars came out. I was pretty lit up as one can tell from one of my pictures. It is extremely funny plus the video shows me having a good time. But eh, one should get drunk in each continent, right?

          The next day was pretty much the same except that was the night I went to the bullfights. The bulls that run that day are the bulls that the matadors kill that night. The bullfights were fantastic.  I sat by myself and these four Spaniards saw my digital video camera and they took me in so to speak. Though they couldn’t speak English and I couldn’t speak Spanish, we had a great time. They gave me lots of champagne, which seemed to be the drink preferred at the bullfights. Other people around me shared their wine and food. They even took a picture of me kissing this girl on the cheek.

          The bullfights themselves were excellent. The first fight, I saw one of the matadors get gored in the leg. He was taken out in a stretcher.  The rest of bullfights were good. The video does a much better job than me talking about it.

          Saturday, I rented a car and drove to the North. I head for San Sebastian on the North Atlantic Coast. The city itself was more spectacular than Pamplona. Though the weather was cloudy, the great Atlantic was huge and beautiful. Her waves were tall and wondrous. I felt her power from all the different viewpoints I got to view her from.

          From there I headed north in to France.  Not that the country was that much different, it just seemed more beautiful. Especially the women. I found a store (where I got my sandwich) and I bought three bottles of wine. I couldn’t speak any French except bonjour and merci, which was all I needed to know. The checker simply pushed my items through and swiped my credit card and off I went. I can’t wait to try the wines. I am just waiting for the right time and person to share it with.

          From there I simply drove around the countryside and then back through Spain. I took all these back roads and shot a lot of good video. The only disappointing thing was the weather

                                                                   -Michael