Kiwi in Crocs: 7. Villava to Pamplona 12/07/12

I was up at 5am and packed up my things and at 5.30 had breakfast (a loose term as it was only coffee, cake and crackers). The Albergue were lovely to let me have breakfast so early as they knew I wanted to get to Pamplona to see the running of the bulls. I left there at 6am and walked down to the bus stop and hoped a bus would come soon – and one did so I was in Pamplona by 6.30am.

I found the address I was watching the running of the bulls from and it was in a great position on Estefata Street. The streets were crowded with many drunk people at this time but at about 7.15 the police cleared the streets.

On the balcony

We then had breakfast together and went back out on the balcony by 7.50 as the running started at about 8am.

By this time all the other balconies on the street were full of people watching as well.

After the rocket went off the people were allowed to start running and then I think it was when the second rocket went off the bulls were released. It was two minutes of mayhem and people were knocking each other over and then the bulls were as well. Some people weren’t so lucky and got hurt. I think they are all crazy the ones running – although I must admit that if I was able to run I may have been down there with them.

It all happened so quickly that I didn't get any photos or video footage of the bulls running!

The runners start

The gate is closed after the bulls pass. The medics attend to an injured person who has been gored.

I was intending on leaving Pamplona after watching the running of the bulls but then changed my mind and decided that if I was in Pamplona at San Fermin I might as well try to see a bull fight if I could get a ticket. I knew all the tickets were sold out but found a tout who sold me a 37 euro ticket for 50 euros - so I then had to try to find accommodation. I couldn't stay at the same albergue I'd stayed at the night before as the most have a rule (especially the govt albergues) that you can only stay for one night. They make this rule so that there’s more chance of the pilgrim’s getting a place to stay each night. The private ones you can sometimes stay longer.

The problem in Pamplona was that the main Albergue, which had 150 beds, was closed for 10 days during San Fermin and this left only one private albergue with only 26 beds. I walked there and talked to the hosts running it (called hospitaleros) and they said that it was a first come first served basis so to turn up by midday when they opened. It was only a 10 minute walk from the bull arena so I was happy that I had a chance to stay there.

What often happens is that the albergues are staffed by volunteers for the season or on a rotation of two weeks. They are normally people who have walked the Camino de Santiago in the past and want to give something back. Two Dutch women were currently running this particular one for a period of two weeks and they’d just arrived a few days before. They were very sweet but as I found out later, very inefficient.

I walked the 5kms back to Villava along the cycle path I’d used the day before, collected my things and bike, said thanks and goodbyes and cycled back to Pamplona.

By the time I got back to the Pamplona albergue there was a group of young Aussie and Kiwi guys waiting to see if they could get a bed. It was only 10.30 so I asked them to hold my place in the line and headed off to the Vodafone shop to get my phone connected and then went and visited my friend at the bike shop to buy a new pump, which showed the tyre pressure, and a new tube to replace the one that had the puncture. The guy kindly tuned my bottom two gears as they were slipping and since then they’ve worked a treat.

I got back to the albergue just before 12 and there was a long queue of people waiting to check in and I'd lost my place but luckily I was still there before the 26^th person arrived. The two darling Dutch women took forever to process each person though - so it was about 2.30 before I got to put my stuff on a bunk. When it was my turn they went through a whole process and showed me everything possible on the map and told me all the things anyone could possibly want to know about Pamplona and San Fermin. All I could think was 'the poor people still waiting in line and I wonder why they didn't bring in all the English speaking people at once so they only needed to say all this information once'. But their intentions were very good.

I was starving so headed out to have the 10 euro menu that the Dutch women had recommended and it was a lovely restaurant. I wanted to sit out on one of the pavement tables but got told as soon as I ordered the pilgrim’s menu that pilgrims had to eat on one of the back room tables. I spoke to the manager though and told him I was worried about leaving my bike on the street and promised to eat my three courses quickly - so he agreed I could sit outside. Once I’d finished eating a group of Spanish men asked me to join them – and I only did because I wanted to vacate the table and still had wine to finish. One of the men gave me a ribbon for my bag. I have no idea why as I couldn’t understand anything they said to me! They were also going to the bull fight at 6.30.

I left the restaurant at 5.30 just in time to run my bike back to the albergue and get to the bullfight arena just after 6. The atmosphere was amazing. It was packed with people singing and everyone, except me it seemed, was dressed in red and white.

It was great to be there to experience the atmosphere and I know I’d never go to a bullfight again as I was a bit naïve about it all having never watched one before. I also thought that killing the bulls was stopped years ago. It hasn’t in Pamplona.

It seemed to me that all the people sitting around me were watching for my reaction throughout the bullfight so I clapped when they did and they seemed relieved that I seemed to be enjoying it. I don’t think I can say I enjoyed it at all – but I was interested to be there to witness the crowd’s reaction. It was like a frenzy.

There were 6 bullfights – the bulls were the same six bulls that ran in the running of the bulls that morning. There were three matadors - so each had 2 bullfights.

The process went like this:

- The bull was released into the arena (and as it was released I think a man jabbed two ribbons into the bulls neck). All I know is that one man was leaning over the rail just before the bull was released and it came out a bit mad and with these two little ribbons. He may not have done this though.

- In the area were young men with pink capes, who I presume are matadors-in-training. They are called peones. They would wave their pink capes at the bull, the bull would run towards the cape and then the peones would run behind a protection barrier. Then another peone would flap his pink cape and the bull would run over towards it – but before the bull got anywhere near the peone he would run behind the protection barrier. This process would tire the bull out and it stopped running around so much.

- Then out came two men on horses with long spears (they are called picadors). The bull would charge the horse and the picador would stab the bull in the neck. The horses were protected and blindfolded but they got knocked around a bit. The horses would then leave the arena.

- Then out came two or three banderilleros with 50cm spears or batons - and they must have had hooks or barbed bits on the end. When the bull charged them they would thrust the spears into the bull - and try to get them as near to the original wound where the picador had stabbed the bull.

- Then the matador would come out and do his cape business. He had a red cape. By this stage the bull must have been absolutely knackered and in a lot of pain and often the bull was covered in blood. Then when the matador had mesmorised/dominated/knackered the bull and the bull was still, he’d go in with his big sword – and the aim was to drive the sword through the wound to the heart.

Three of the bullfights the bulls were killed with one thrust of the matador's sword and the crowd would go crazy and wave white handkerchiefs - and they were clearly happy with the matador.

But one one took about six goes because the sword would only go in half way. Sometimes the bull would fall down and stagger but then get up again.

When the deaths took a long time I just kept hoping that the matador would get the sword in the right spot the next time so the bull would die more quickly. The crowd would get angry when the matador didn’t kill the bull on the first or second try – and the crowd jeered one matador - but you could tell it was not because the bull was being put through a lot of pain.

As I said I clapped along but when I was walking home I wondered what made me do that when it wasn’t something I felt like clapping. It makes you realise how people can get caught up in going along with their friends or peers. While I was at the bull fight I thought to myself I’d hate to be in the army fighting against Spain as they seemed so patriotic. I’m not sure if patriotic is the word – but I could imagine they’d be easy to convince that something was worth fighting to the death for.

When I got back to the albergue I had some sangria with So Young and June who were also in my dorm room.

Here are some photos if you want to see them:

Outside the area before the bullfight: