Running with the Bulls in Pamplona

Robert is a Hemmingway fan. He is also at that age where men start to buy sport cars and create a tick list of 'things I want to do before I die'. One of the things on this list was running with the bulls in Pamplona. This is a long established tradition in Pamplona. It started as part of the celebrations of St Fermin. This is San Fermin below. He is in the cathedral.

Being Spain, you have to celebrate the feast day of your saint with bull fights. The running of the bulls started off as a simple exercise in logistics. The bull ring in Pamplona (see photo below) is in the middle of the city. The corral for the bulls is on the edge of the city. How do you get the bulls from the corral to the bull ring? Simple: you run then through the streets of the town. How do young men (and not quite so young men) demonstrate their masculinity? Equally simple: you run along with the bulls.


After Hemmingway wrote about this in 'The Sun Also Rises' (published in 1926), the running of the bulls gained international attention. The increase in tourism at this time of the year is quite staggering. Hotel and restaurant prices trebble and to even get a hotel, you have to book months in advance. The celebrations for San Fermin rum from July 6 to July 14. This is not the actual feast day of San Fermin, but the city council decided to move the celebrations to this date because the weather was nicer at this time of year and it was a better time of year to get tourists.

You may have noticed in the bull ring photo and the photo above, people are dressed in white, have red sashes around the middle and have a red hankerchief around their neck. This is not a flattering look unless you are toned and fit, however, this is the traditional running with the bulls outfit. You can buy all of this in shops in Pamplona.

Above is Robert, dressed for the part. Take note of the short trousers. These are also traditional.

You will also notice in this photo that there are wooden rails. These run all the way from the corral to the bull ring and are set up for the festival. The route is 825 metres and is slightly uphill. The average length of time it takes to run from start to finish is three minutes. This is not a straight route, there are a couple of notorious twists and turns.

We were booked into our hotel for two nights. On day one, we walked the lenght of the route. Robert had a simple plan. He didn't actually want to run with the bulls behind him. He would find some nice safe doorway that he could tuck into, wait for the bulls to pass and then run behind him. Given that the run is over very quickly, I wanted to make sure that I had a good viewing spot. I have been told that people along the route rent their balconies. So, I asked around and got myself a balcony. We identified a nice doorway near my balcony. The run starts at 8am. Runners are asked to be in the running area for 7:30. They are asked to not bring any cameras or recording equipment (the idea being that many injuries are caused by some idiot in front of you stopping to take photos). So, the next morning, Robert claims his spot at the door. I claim my space on the balcony.

You will notice the that everyone is holding a folded newspaper. You are supposed to use this to hit the bull with if one gets too close. You may also notice the girl. Strictly speaking, girls are not allowed to do the run. The police weed them out of the crowd, along with anyone with cameras, and people who are drunk. Somehow, the police didn't notice her.

Robert's careful plan then hit a snag. What neither of us knew was that the police go along the length of the run and herd the runners into their own corral. So just before the run, the streets were empty. At 8am, a rocket is fired to confirm that the gate of the bull corral has been opened. The runners are supposed to say a quick prayer to San Fermin. A second rocket announces that the bulls have left the corral.

Robert had decided to modify his plan. He would try to return to his doorway, tuck in until the bulls passed and then run behind. This, however, hit yet another snag. Each day there are 6 fighting bulls and some bullocks. Robert, thought that he had counted up correctly as they went past him and so he started running. What he hadn't realised was that he was missing one! He later reported that when he realised this, he ran all the way into the bull ring and then quickly hopped over the rail. Apparently one of the worst places for accidents is the actual bull ring itself.

The photo above is a scanned post card. After Robert's run, we met up and had breakfast. Robert decided that he needed a rest and I decided to wander around town. One of the things I had decided to do was to surprise Robert with tickets to the nights bull fight so that he could see 'his bulls'. Normally, I am against bull fighting. However, I was also curious about it.

Robert was delighted with this surprise. One of the things that surprised us both was just what a party atmosphere it had. When we arrived at the bull fight in the evening there were people selling food and iced buckets of wine. We took our seats and were surrounded with Spanish families (including children) and their picnic baskets. I really do hate to say that I quite enjoyed the bull fights. So, Robert and I drank wine and watched as the first bull came out. The families around us were tucking into their picnic baskets: a real family outing!

The crowd booed and cheered based on the performance of the matador and bandillieras (the guys with the sticks). The biggest boos were for a matador that didn't manage to kill the bull with only one stab of the sword. What you are looking for in a good fight is a matador who takes some risks and a clean, quick kill at the end. Now, I am sure that some of you are thinking: what a horrible way for an animal to die. But, it is really? Think about that steak on your plate. This came from an animal that transported to an abattoir full of a lot of frightened animals that could sense that they were to die and then they get a bolt shot into their head. At least a fighting bull gets a chance to get back at the matador and dies with dignity.

One of the stranger aspects of the San Fermin celebration was the wood cutting contest. The photo above shows a competitive log slicing event (with chain saws). Very bizarre, but also quite compelling to watch. We both felt very Canadian getting enjoyment out of watching men with chainsaws.

What I haven't mentioned up to now was the route we took to get to Pamplona. We flew from Glasgow to Vittorio airport near Bilbao. We stayed over night in Bilbao. This is a fantastic city. The big thing to see here is the Guggenheim Art museum. This is an amazing building.

The surface is covered in titaniam. Because of the curves and reflectivity, the building looks different depending on the time of day. It is next to the river and to reflect a 'tie with water' the building has its own moat.

Below is a view from down the street. Note the dog shaped thing. This is a wire mesh dog that has been planted with flowers. Not exactly something that I would have in my garden, but I guess that art is art.
I much more preferred this spider sculpture.
After Bilbao, given that we were in northern Spain, Robert and I then went to Rioja. This is a region, not a town. We stayed in the pretty little village of Laguardia.


This (and Bilbao) are in the Basque region of Spain (as this wall plaque in a bar in Laguarida proudly advertises).


Of course, when in Rioja, one does have to do a wine tour. This is El Fabulista. They are a small operation and they still crush the grapes by stepping on them.

Laguarida is built on a limestone hill. The underside of the village has been carved out into wine cellars.
Finally, here is a view of the Rioja region (taken from the terrace outside of our hotel room). So this is where all that nice red stuff comes from.