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06-09-2011, 06:35 AM
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#1 (permalink) |
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Don't call me Shirley
Join Date: Jun 2010
Location: London
Posts: 3,271
Internets: 220249
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Europe
The new thread for all your European travelling concerns.
Pamplona Bull Run. July 7-10th. Who's in? GET INVOLVED. El encierro, videos, y fotos de las fiestas de Pamplona - Sanfermin.com - Pamplona |
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06-09-2011, 10:03 AM
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#2 (permalink) |
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MURICAN
Join Date: Jul 2004
Location: Virginia
Posts: 5,136
Internets: 250185
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 The basis of our governments being the opinion of the people, the very first object should be to keep that right; and were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter. But I should mean that every man should receive those papers and be capable of reading them. |
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06-15-2011, 01:28 AM
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#3 (permalink) |
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G'd up from the feet up.
Join Date: Jan 2005
Location: Cali
Posts: 7,146
Supreme Emperor of the Jiu Jitsu Shit Forum?: Yes
Internets: 114735
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I've never been; though, I long for it......................................
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Creeping around as I please nonchalantly like any other Supreme Emperor might.
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07-06-2011, 09:56 AM
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#7 (permalink) | |
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Ahoy Fuckbag
Join Date: Sep 2008
Location: In a pineapple under the sea
Posts: 3,540
Internets: 187030
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07-06-2011, 10:11 AM
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#10 (permalink) |
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Ahoy Fuckbag
Join Date: Sep 2008
Location: In a pineapple under the sea
Posts: 3,540
Internets: 187030
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Speaking of BDH ... where is he in regards to coming for fantasy football? Anyone have his number?
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07-11-2011, 09:33 AM
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#11 (permalink) |
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Don't call me Shirley
Join Date: Jun 2010
Location: London
Posts: 3,271
Internets: 220249
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My San Fermin write-up.
Had a thursday afternoon flight, London to Madrid, Madrid to Pamplona. While waiting for the plane to pamplona, met a trio of middle-aged women who were going to the festival and "thought I was nice." They were going to meet with a bunch of friends and their boyfriends, and pretty much adopted me, saying their boyfriends could give me good advice since it was my first run. This turned out to be enlessly clutch. Remember, my plan had been to get wasted, roll out a sleeping bag on some grass, and go to sleep. Within five minutes of meeting them, one of the boyfriends insisted that I crash with them. So I had an apartment to sleep in, which was pretty huge. I honestly don't know if I would have lasted three nights out of doors. The apartment overlooked a street on the encierro, which would have been clutch except that I was in the run motherfucka! Stayed out drinking until about 2 AM. Sangria and this traditional san fermin drink which is a large glass of cognac and some vanilla drink. It'll fuck you up. Got some pretty good advice from the old-timers, particularly a mysterious mustachioed man I met for the first time as I was leaving the apartment at six AM. Some of the advice: +If you go down, stay down. +Keep your head on a swivel. Look ahead, look behind. Always on a swivel. +Respect the bull. +Don't try to run the whole course. It's impossible. Met with Mark, one of the group I had met, at 7 AM, and his friend Tim. (In addition to the dozen or so people in the apartment I was staying at, they had a network of like 100 people who all knew each other, some of whom had been coming for 20 years.) Mark and Tim had run for the first time the day before, which made them veterans. We went to a spot on the run just past La Curva. This is the major turn of the course, and if the bulls take it too fast, they bounce off the curve like a backboard. For some reason on this day, I didn't feel The Fear, just excitement. There is a prayer read over loudspeaksers, and everyone, a sea of white clothes and red scarves, 95% men and a few ballsy women, carefully count down the last few minutes. You can pick out the spanish, the hardcore, because they're the only ones stretching out unironically. I met one of them, a legend of Pamplona, a spanish deaf-mute named Jose Antonio who had supposedly run hundreds of times. Finally, at 8 oclock sharp, you hear a rocket blast. That means that at the bottom of the hill, the door keeping the bulls back has been opened. On the sound of the blast, a lot of people started running. Too soon. You hear the first blast, you wait, you leave now and you'll be at the colisseum by the time the bulls catch up. Eight seconds later, another blast. This meant the last bull had left the gate. This was, I had learned, a medium interval. It meant the bulls were spread out but not too spread out. On the second blast, every inch of you wants to run. The fucking bulls are coming. Not yet. Most of the people that had been standing around you are gone, you're surrounded by people running. But running, not sprinting. Finally, around the curve, sprinters, people who are directly in front of the bulls. Then the bulls. I saw their horns first. I bolted. The bulls were massive. They didn't skid around the corner, but took it tight, like I'd heard they'd done the day before. I've got my head on a swivel. Trying not to trip over anyone, unwilling to take my eyes off the front bull, a light brown monster with his head down. Not "looking and hooking", which means actively going after runners, but running for speed. The first one passes me, two feet away. Four more with him. I'm sprinting full speed, less than a yard from the bulls. The first of the two stragglers comes within arms length of me. I slap its hindquarters. This is not in accordance with "respect the bull." But I have touched something which could turn and kill me. The second straggler passes me. Pretty sure that was the last one, but if one had fallen, he could still be coming. Head still on a swivel, but more looking ahead now. More taking in the scene. The rooftops and balconies are full of people cheering. There are no more bulls coming. Everyone's singing what sounds like the baseline from the white stripes "wichita", there must be some significance but I don't know. I'm singing it too. Still sprinting, I reach the colisseum. It is the most incredible moment I can remember. Running into a colisseum filled with people cheering US, cheering ME, as we enter. The big bulls have been corralled, for a moment we stand in the middle of the arena with our arms up. People are lying down in front of the gate. A door opens. A baby bull leaps over the people lying on the ground, into the arena. People chase after the bull, not getting too close. You get too close behind it, it can turn on you, on a dime. You get in front of it, it can lock on to you, and you won't be able to just duck out of the way. It chases you. People get hit. People go down. I get hit. I get too close behind it, it turns on me, and shoots its head right up at me. Its right horn hits me on the chest, right over my heart. I jump back but don't fall, run off banging my fist against my chest. It is incredible. When one bull gets tired, they bring it back in and bring out another. One time I get in the pile in front, and watch a bull fly over my. Another time I'm not in the pile, and the bull doesn't fly over, but attacks the pile with its horns. Every once in a while, someone leaps on a bull's back. You're REALLY not supposed to do that. When that happens, a group of the hardcore, the spaniards, drag the perp out of the ring and beat the shit out of him. I saw this happen three times. I do get a couple good slaps on bulls' backs. This seems to be OK. People get taken down by bulls. If it's violent, the crowd loves it. If a bull takes someone down and goes after it, though, the other people in the crowd push the bull off. Which is pretty fucking impressive. After the bullring, I go back to a bar to meet everyone. Everyone has a different story. A biker-looking dude fell and saw Jose Antonio leap over him like something out of the matrix. Many admit to bad runs. We drink. We drink a lot. End up going with four or five others down to the bull-pens, where the bulls for the next day's runs are resting. It's like a zoo, except if at the zoo you knew the elephants would be chasing you the following day. Drink some more. A lot more. I buy a wineskin which holds two bottles of wine. The challenge seems to be how high you can pour the wine from into your mouth. At the edge of the city, you can see gorgeous green hills, mountains. The sky is very blue. Around 2 I'm at something called a vodka party. A lot of people from the apartment are there. I'm most drunk. I decide to take a nap. It lasts three hours, but when I wake up I think it's only been five minutes, and I continue drinking. I'm not sober. Get a call from sloth, who is supposed to be meeting me that night, he's sprained his ankle and missed his flight. I will remain solo. A group of five of us go to a bar to watch the bullfight. We see the main matador get gored in the armpit, and as he turns to get out of the way, the bull catches him in the ass. Awesome. We go to a restaurant that serves, what else, beef. It's incredible meat, with thick skin that has to be the least healthy thing I've ever eaten. More wine. After dinner I get seperated, end up at an outdoor rock concert. I make my way to the middle of the mosh pit and go nuts. Jumping up and down screaming all the spanish words I know. "Gracias por favor! Donde esta la bibliotecha?!?!" I'm not excessively popular. Or sober. Walking home after that I get a nose bleed. This has never happened before, but I bleed all over my clothes. I finally find the apartment and go to sleep at 3 AM. I wake up at 6 AM extremely hungover. Roll out of my sleeping bag, out of the apartment, back to La Curva. I drink a red bull, for some reason. Today, for some reason, The Fear is back. The red bull was a poor decision. I can't figure out what to do with my arms. Can't stretch. Minutes drag. The first rocket goes off. No second rocket. So we have no idea how spread out they are. The bulls come, I see them go by, right in front of me, all in a pack, but I can't keep up because I'm worried there will be a straggler. I see them push a wall in front of me. Meaning I'm not going to make it into the arena. I climb over the barrier. But by the time I get to the arena it's closed. Adrenaline is absolutely pumping through me. It sounds corny but it feels EXACTLY like I'm high on a drug. I pace to the bar. I drink but I can't stand still. I go to another bar. I decide I'm too wired and go back to the apartment, to try to close my eyes. Every time I do, I see bulls on the back of my eyelids. I know how lame that sounds but it is a fact. I can't sleep. Go for lunch with some people. The adrenaline is fading and now I feel low, incredibly low. I get tired of being around people. Claustrophobic. Again, it's EXACTLY like the comedown from some drugs. I need to be by myself. I get my sleeping bag, my backpack, and I walk towards Noain, a town south of the city. I try to eat, but I'm still feeling out of sorts. I buy some water at a gas station and hike towards a mountain. On the way, I see a deserted, half-demolished bullfighting ring, and an ancient aquaduct. I climb the mountain, take a nap, read. I'm calming down a little. I hike back to Noain. After a dinner of a ham sandwich (better than it sounds when you're in the spanish countryside) and pinchos. I find the most beautiful park in the world and go to sleep for the night. I pass on the run on Sunday. It's supposed to be the busiest (read: most crowded) day, with the biggest, least predictable bulls. I watch it on TV and am glad I didn't run. Looks like a lot of injuries, chaos everywhere. I fly out that afternoon. It was a trip to remember. I don't have any pictures (that was sloth's job) but just go to youtube and type in san fermin 2011. |
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07-11-2011, 03:36 PM
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#14 (permalink) |
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Senior Member
Join Date: Feb 2002
Posts: 6,142
Internets: 284753
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Kremlin went to Spain, got hammered drunk and ran with the bulls. He stayed at some strange Spaniard's apartment.
It was a fantastic post, and I enjoyed reading it. However, the trip sounded absolutely awful tbh. |
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10-21-2011, 04:21 AM
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#25 (permalink) |
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MURICAN
Join Date: Jul 2004
Location: Virginia
Posts: 5,136
Internets: 250185
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I'm going to this in November:
Lewes Bonfire Council - Home Page Lewes Bonfire Council - The Member Societies: Cliffe Bonfire Society |
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The basis of our governments being the opinion of the people, the very first object should be to keep that right; and were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter. But I should mean that every man should receive those papers and be capable of reading them. |
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