By: Isaac Simon
The yearly San Fermin Festival, held during the second week of July in Pamplona, Spain, is up there with the Valencian ‘Tomatina’ as a must do before you die. It is recognised worldwide for its most famous event, the daily 8am ‘Running of the Bulls,’ which takes place in the crowded narrow streets of the city centre. The purpose of the three- to four-minute run is to get the bulls from their overnight pen to the bullring, where they would fight the same evening. The festival is held in honour of the patron saint of Navarre, San Fermin, and dates back to the 14th century. Traditionally it combined cattle markets, from which bullfighting developed, with religious ceremonies. During the 17th century, men began to rush in and out of the way of the bulls as they were being taken to market; over time, this developed into a competition, which remains with the festival to this day.
This tradition has become increasingly controversial. Every year, a few days before the festival, PETA put on a ‘running of the nudes’, to oppose the torture of bulls. Despite the opposition and obvious dangers, the festival still attracts flocks of tourists each year, all wanting the same thing – a good Spanish party, and the possibility of coming face to face with a bull. Because of the massive popularity of the festival, finding accommodation is very difficult; every hostel and flat in Pamplona is booked out months in advance. Many tourists find themselves in a campsite 15 minutes away from the centre of Pamplona. It is not uncommon for flats overlooking the route to charge more than 200 euros per person, per night. If you just want a view of the run, you can rent an overlooking balcony for 20 minutes, setting you and your friends back 50 euros.
The bull-run has caused many injuries and fatalities over the years. Since 1924, there have been 15 recorded fatalities at the horns of the bull, with the most recent being in 2009. Of those killed, only two were not native, and there have been no British fatalities, although a Brit was gored last year.
Despite the violence, a broad range of ages can be found at the festival: participants last year included both 17 and 63 year-olds. The most dangerous and fatal part of the run is at the entrance of the bullring where, until a few years ago, there were pile-ups almost daily due to the sheer number of frantic runners attempting to get in. This would result in the bulls charging straight into the crowd, trampling and goring as they went. Another major danger is when a bull becomes isolated from the others, because at this point the bull would be at his most disorientated and nervous, and as a result he would be more deadly than ever.
Speaking to locals at the festival, I learned the importance of prior preparation, and they emphasised that one must be familiar with life-saving protocol. The most important thing to remember, they said, was to stay down if trampled by a bull until you are tapped on the back. Knowing this would have saved the life of the American tourist who was killed in the bull-run in 1995.
Some say you have got to be completely mad to take part. And so, at 8.02am on the 13th July 2010, I found myself in the streets of Pamplona. Two minutes before six fully grown fighting bulls, weighing more than 500kg each and bred for the bullring, and six steers to lead the bulls, were released into the streets 400 metres away.
I was standing halfway up the course, where most the tourists start from, just inside ‘Dead Man’s Corner’ (perhaps looking back, this was not the best place to stand!). Funnily enough, standing next to me was an Irish International Rugby winger; I will not name names. Being completely unaware of what was behind me, I relied solely on the atmosphere. The balconies and streets all around were packed; there was talking, singing, clapping and flashing cameras. While looking up at the balconies I remember catching the eyes of old ladies who you know are thinking “you are too young and foolish for this.” Mingled with the strong smell of stale sangria from the previous evening’s parties was a sense of excitement and nervousness that I will never forget.
A rocket was fired into the air, which meant the bulls had been released onto the streets. A second rocket sounded: all the bulls were on the move. The mood now completely changed, it was literally a case of life or death for those taking part. The noise from the crowds and balconies all of sudden got louder and more ecstatic; I thought the bulls must be close.
The screams got louder; the bells ringing on the bulls’ necks were deafening, and I still hear the sound of clattering hooves on cobbled street today. A few runners dressed in the iconic white and red sprinted round the corner while looking behind them. Some were trampled. Then the twelve bulls and steers charged past me, so close that I could smell them. They were three meters away at most, and continued to charge through the streets before making their way towards the end of their route. Still breathing heavily, I ran after the bulls, left in their wake, and entered the bullring a few minutes later to a full house of spectators.
But this was not the end of the spectacle. The full-sized bulls were ushered away, and after a few minutes, six smaller bulls, half the weight of the fully grown ones, were released into the bullring one at a time, jumping, charging and head butting, each with rubber on their horns.Soon enough I found myself being chased by one of these small raging bulls! By 9am it was all over; an hour of spectacle, excitement and danger.
You soon learn that one thing you do not do, under any circumstances, is grab the bull by its horns; this is the height of disrespect. Tourists trying to show off their machismo in this way would quite literally be punched in the face by locals, along with booing, hissing and verbal abuse from the crowd. On one occasion a tourist had to be removed from the ring by police, as he continued to touch a bull’s horns to the despair of the Pamplonese people.
Overall the San Fermin Festival is an exhilarating experience, bull-run or no bull-run. The atmosphere is unlike any other. Nowadays tourists are more likely to party all day and night than go to the traditional religious ceremonies. No one seems to sleep during the festival; the nightclubs sprawl onto the streets and there are afternoon street parties. Gallons of beer and wine are drunk (and poured on you) and the wonderful food is consumed in massive quantities. This week long party is even sanctioned by the state: the mayor shows up to officially open the fiesta, as well as to close it – at which point the residents can regain their city from the tourists for another year.