I feel like I have heard about the Running of the Bulls ever since I was very young. In Spanish classes, it was a typical topic of interest for "culture" studies. I always thought that it was a small, weird thing that people died at for no reason. Let's just say, I was in for a surprise. Honestly, pictures could not do the festival justice. So much happened that I don't even know where to start!
After a five hour bus ride from Madrid to Pamplona, we arrived at about one in the morning. Shocked, the streets were packed already with people anticipating the start of the party the next day. We hung out, chatted with Spaniards, and just enjoyed ourselves all night. Did I mention that I was with seven other au pairs? Huge group! Here are most of us on Saturday morning, after no sleep.
After staying up all night, the festivities really began the next day. It is tradition to wear all white clothing with two red scarves at the festival.
Everyone does it--even cute little boys!
After resting up a tiny bit, we decided to attend the opening ceremony. We followed the crowds to discover the location:
However, it wasn't really a ceremony of any kind. It was a place to throw sangria in the air and get all of your white clothes dark pink. Drinking and goofing around is the entire point here.
That shirt was white when I got there. My clothes were soaked. Luckily, I survived!
The rest of the day was much of the same. Jumping, dancing, singing, shouting "Viva San Fermín!" No one is a stranger at the festival. It was simply the biggest, friendliest party I have ever been to.
You just walk the streets and the party follows. Buckets of water are thrown on passers-by to wash off the Sangria. The squares were filled with people, too.
Even a band marched through the town playing Spanish fanfare.
After taking a nap in the park for a few hours, we headed to our campsite for the night. We ate dinner, swam in the ocean, laid on the beach, drank sangria, and met plenty of other English-speakers. It was really strange to hear so much English spoken.
The best part is that we slept in a tepee with all eight of us. I have lived in South Dakota my entire life, and it took going to the Running of the Bulls to finally sleep in a tepee.
The next morning we woke up before the sun to get to the first day of the running. We had a great view...
Oh wait, no we didn't. No matter, we were still in Spain at San Fermín! The excitement is truly the experience, not literally seeing the bulls and people run around the streets. Here is the area we "saw" after the bulls and runners had already passed.
Afterward, garbage was everywhere. The smell was unbearable.
In the end, it just didn't matter. With a combined sleep total of less than six hours for the 2.5 days, I can easily say that I "lived" Pamplona last weekend. So many more stories could be told about this weekend. However, I think it's like Vegas. What happens in Pamplona stays in Pamplona. :)
¡Viva San Fermín! (Oh yeah, I lost my voice from shouting that for two days straight. Worth it.)
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