San Fermin

I was really happy to be out of Pamplona. We were here for the Festival of San Fermin, and you know what, I am just not into big, drunken, festivities like I once was. We stayed outside the city (thank goodness) and drove in for the Encierros (running of the bulls) in the mornings. The city smelled like shit, the ground was alternately slick and sticky with beer and urine, and even at seven in the morning, drunken boys were constantly yelling at me, surrounding me, or trying to kiss me.



There was a time in my life when I probably would have enjoyed spending a drunken week in wine-stained garments, sleeping in parks in the daytime and getting trashed in the night...but that time, it appears, has passed.

the other fair

After we ran with the bulls, we went further out from the center of Pamplona to see where there was a horse market going on. It was kind of intense. These horses got out of their pen and into the crowd and this guy is herding them back in by whacking them with this stick.



It made me sad but my friend assured me it was just the day that was going to be rough on them. Then they would be headed home with happy families in Basque Country.

pamplona

We drove into Pamplona and ran with the bulls on the opening day of the Festival of San Fermin. The scariest part for me was the fear that I would be pushed down and trampled by all the people.



This is an image of some police officers guarding the bulls who will run the first day. In the lower right corner you can see some of the white-and-red clad revelers.