From Paris I booked a ticket to Pamplona by way of San Sebastian. I was unable to use my Eurail since each train has only a limited number of passengers using the Eurail. It was 100€ to get to Pamplona, but this is a once in a lifetime event so I quickly choke up the dough. Furthermore I was unable to get a seat reservation, but I was still allowed to get a ticket, at full price of course. I was told to ignore the cart number to find any empty seat. Of course a person with a reservation ticket to that seat would get dibs over me.
After a brisk lunch, I hopped on the train around 3pm to arrive in Pamplona around 12am. As the ticket checker comes by, he glances at my ticket and starts speaking to me in French. It seems something is wrong with my ticket. At first I suspect that it is because I do not have a seat reservation, but the ticket office person had told me that I could sit in any seat available. The ticket checker can only speak French and soon he just leaves to check other people’s ticket. Lucky I was sitting next to some French Canadians who were able to somewhat make out what he was trying to tell me.
It turns out the train from Gard de Nord Paris to San Sebastian was paired with another destination. Since I was unable to a get a seat reservation on this train I just jumped on the first cart available and found the first empty seat. It turns out that half the carts go to one destination and the other half goes to another destination. The next stop was where the train would split in two and both travel towards their separate destinations. So I quickly hope off the train and speed walk towards the front of the train heading to San Sebastian.
The train is filled with people going to Pamplona for San Fermin. A lot of people are already dressed for the event. There is quite a large group of people staying in hostels in San Sebastian and training down to Pamplona for the evening. We all exit the train around 12am and walk towards the city center. On our walk there we see people passed out along the grassy areas, groups of people drinking and everyone is dressed in white and red, the traditional colors of the runners.
We all arrive at the city center and head directly towards the 24/7 bag check setup in the middle school of Pamplona especially for this festival. Just outside the steps of the building I notice a lot of commotion and a flood of people running out from one alleyway. I look down and notice two guys couched low, knee bent, arms out, facing each other. Then next thing I know they start slashing at each other. They were knife fighting. A few swings and slices and the fight quickly dissipates as fast as it had started. Both parties run towards opposite directions. One of them is holding their arm as he stumbles away. As quickly as the streets had cleared for this fight, people fill the alleyway once again and then the partying resumes as normal.
The first thing you notice is the smell. In Europe it is particularly normal to smell foul scents here and there while walking around on the streets. In Pamplona during San Fermin however the entire city smells like urine, beer, and sangria. I kid you not the entire city reeks of this stench. The streets are full of empty plastic cups, broken beer bottles, wine bottles, and trash in general. It would be later along my travels that I would meet several people that thought it was a good idea to wear flip flops and cut their feet on shards of glass.
The second thing is the amount of people out. The streets packed with a sea of people in white and red. They are singing, drinking, and parading down every street inside the town. It literally seems like every street intersection we approach there is another parade of drums, music and people chanting in Spanish. People hand us drinks when they notice that we don’t have anything in our hands. It is one big celebration.
We all quickly head over to the market area where t-shirts, pants, bandanna, and belts are sold. The entire outfit is haggled down to 15€ which is not bad at all. We all quickly join in the celebration and I lose track of all the people started out with in the crowd of white and red. None the less strangers are the closest of friends in this celebration. Salute, cheers, prost, and other various traditions are shouted at one another as we all drink and sing.
The morning comes quickly and around 6am we all head towards the running lanes. Public officials are constructing the guardrails that outline both sides of the running lanes. There are metal holes in the ground where the posts go. There are two layers of protection and people are only allowed to stand behind the second wall. The first wall is reserved for medics, photographers, police, and press. The police are there to push people that try to climb over the fence when they run, a big “no no” in the running of the bulls. As each section constructed it is quickly filled by people climbing to the top and sitting there.
I was lucky enough to find my drake friends from the train and jump in with their section. It was right before the lanes enter the stadium overlooking the last long straight stretch of the cobblestone paved streets. We all sit uncomfortably on the wall which consists of two wooden posts roughly 6 ass cheeks apart with two horizontal wooden beams connecting the two vertical posts. We all sit and sing songs while sweepers clean up the large objects and a street cleaning machine sprays down the cobblestone path.
There is a section of the path that is a sharp downhill 90degree left turn. This is known as dead man’s corner, meaning if you are on the outside edge of this turn when the bulls come running by you’re a dead man. The bulls have no traction on the wet cobblestone and usually fly into the outside edge of the turn. This section of the wall is reinforced with sheet metal.
The first canon shot is heard at 8am signaling to the runners that the bulls are ready. The second canon shot signals that the bulls have been released. There are two groups of bulls totally 6 in each group that are released. Almost the entire path is filled with people and bulls fly past parting the sea of people right down the middle. The entire run lasts less than 4 minutes, if it does longer something went wrong. Thus most of the time, the bulls run past the runners giving them a mere glimpse of the beasts. Unfortunately for the few unlucky ones the bulls run over them. Most of the goring does not actually happen in the run.
As the last pack of bulls run by we all jump down from the wall and run along the path to try to get into the stadium. I was unable to get in through the running path, but I was quick enough to go in through the main doors that you usually have to pay to get in. Only the front pack of runners is allowed into the stadium. There a celebration occurs and shortly afterwards young bulls are let out into the sea of people. This is when most of the goring occurs. The entire crowd of people shifts around like a school of fish avoiding a predator. Some people try to come back behind the bull to try to slap it on the back. As this happens the bull quickly turns around is able to hit some people. After a while a bigger bull is brought into the stadium and the young bull’s herding instinct allows it to follow the larger bull out of the stadium. When this happens another celebration occurs before the process is repeated and another young bull is brought in. After around 5 or 6 bulls the event is over.
Most people journey towards the parks and grassy areas to sleep. After losing track of all my friends again I head towards the big park with the mobs of people and pass out under the shade of a tree. Throughout the day I awake to the heat of direct sunlight and switch my sleeping position to where I am again under the shade. A cool breeze blows throughout the entire day and the park is a peaceful shelter from the noise of the previous night’s partying.
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