St. Fermine, Pamplona
Trip Start
Jun 03, 2008
1
16
23
Trip End
Oct 14, 2008
Pamplona,
Navarra,
Spain and Canary Islands
Thursday, July 10, 2008
The bullfight is just what it is cracked to be, big, angry bulls; showy, daring torero; nerve wrecking moves; blood on sand. The first bull killed will always be the deepest I remember. To see the poor animal lanced and seriously bled was a shock, still more shocks came from the close encounters between the beast and the matador. We had a particularly skillful metador, he would hold the bullīs back with his free hand while guiding the bull through passes with his cape.Finally a clean move landed the sword deep in the animalīs heart. After the bull made his last move, horses were raced to pull out the still body of the once powerful animal. Singing and band fanfare burst out.
But this being Pamplona, the bullfight is turned into an excuse to party like everything else. Dancing parties of viewers enter the arena with banners and marching bands. Still more people in the know come carrying meals, drinks, ice bucket. By the time the second bull is killed, much attention is diverted to eating and drinking, at least in the upper section of arena I was seated. The weather was hot, and with over 10,000 people crammed together, and 7 bulls to kill, a lot of viewers seem to relish their cold alcohol as much as the man and beast fighting for life below. I was passed quite a few bites of free food, a cup of icy pink liquor that had an anise flavor and quite strong, and several warnings from the nice old lady besides me to be careful with the potent drink. The matador is amazing, not just for his dare and skill but stamina, running and thrushing in his elegant but very heavy suit for 2 hours.
If you go, buying resold ticket from guys hanging around the arena may not be bad idea, since the ticket office has very long lines and sell only for next day. The ticket seller will happily find you a cop to validate the authenticity of the ticket. Just keep in find that lower row numbers are better, since they are at lower locations and closer to the bullfight ring. Mine at 15 was at the top of the arena, still have a nice view though.
By night, the entire town turned into one big party, drinking that had started here and there by 4pm in the day become full blown, streets literally were drenched in alchohol. Buses run all night. To sleep, or to party, that is the question, for me now.
Note on next day: finally witnessed the legendary run of bull, and people in front. And it was 5 disappointing seconds. The streets were lined with several layers of people. With my midget size, all I could manage was to get a glimpse of running legs. Heard the bells the bull wore, then viewers started leaving, and it was over. I talked to one guy who ran, and it was quick for him too: the bulls were too fast, a few seconds running in front of them and you are off to side of the street. It is funny to think that maybe the true scheme behind the bull run is to get people out of bed early in the morning after all-night partying, and keep them bleary eyed all day.
Also had lunch at police station. No, I did not flirt with law. Since it is fiesta time, the police is cooking for the knowing public. So it was a crowd of white clad spaniards and me with my huge backpack, washing down sauteed bread with bacon and onion with fizzy white wine-tastes far better than it sounds.
