The 2nd running of the bulls

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  Pamplona, Spain
Wednesday, July 10, 2002

Having had a few bookings through PP Travel in the past, we had got to know the girl who ran the company for Bomber, the owner. Karen was cool, she was from WA and had lived in the UK for years, but recently she had quit her job, but she had a contact in Pamplona, and as we were mates, she said we could come and stay with her for £10 per night per person. So, Lucy and I grabbed Anal and another Aussie, Glenny, and we flew to Bilbao. We picked up a car and drove to Pamps. Once in the flat, we set about a couple of hard days of drinking sangria, calimotxo (a local Spanish drink which is a mixture of red wine and coke) and beers. 2 days is a long time, whilst waiting for San Fermin to start on the 6th. On the 6th, everyone piles into the town square as I had previously explained in 98. Nothing had changed. Once we got into the square, Anal was pick pocketed and he lost his phone. He consoled himself by drinking more beers. As soon as the opening was over, we made a mad rush to the muscle bar area to watch the statue divers. It is sheer stupidity. Climb a 3 metre high statue and jump. There was quite a bit of claret flowing, and the ambulances were making regular trips to and from the hospital. Also, if you wanted to take photos of this event, you needed to be in the right spot as everytime someone climbed, people threw eggs at them. I was hit in the face, quite a few times. Eventually, one girl climbed up and took her top and bra off and dived. From then on, every girl basically had to get her tits out or she would not be caught.
The first morning of the run, we went to the bullring. We watched all the runners come running in and once the bulls are put away, the locals then let out some calves to run at the crowd gathered in the ring. Another night on the beers/sangria/calimotxo, and we were heading for our balcony. Karen had arranged one for us. It was a bit hard to watch, as I was so hung over from the night before. This year, I was amazed because there were girls in the run. Previously, they were not allowed but the streets were so packed, they were walking. They did not let the hard core and the bulls go until the punters were out of the way. Once started, a couple of bulls got separated and it became dangerous. A bull in a pack will run together. A lone bull will attack, and attack it did. Anything that was in its way. Eventually, the handlers got it moving towards the ring. As it was around 9 in the morning, we went back to the flat for more sleep. When I awoke, the TV was going. One of the channels was dedicated to the bull run. They were showing highlights and replays from all different areas of the run. It was in Spanish, but we understood that this had been a bad run and there was an ex handler who was telling all what the handlers should have done. Another night on the beers, hung over again in the morning, we stayed in the flat to watch the run on TV. Pamplona is a hard festival on the body. Different to the Oktoberfest, but one I recommend people should try. On the way back to Bilbao, we stopped for lunch and a walk around in San Sebastian. It was a lovely little beach town and it was a great way to unwind for a couple of hours before we hit the fast lights of England once more

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