Running with the Bulls in Pamplona

    Running with the Bulls in Pamplona is more than just a way that people re-live Hemmingway's experiences. To many it is a way to celebrate life, and one of the most exciting experiences that you can have. zRomance's Jerry Low braved the bulls, and made it into the arena...barely.

We're still alive!

   I've spent the last week in Spain and will be returning to the states in a few days. Thought I�d drop a line while I had a chance...

   We've been to Madrid, Pamplona, San Sebastian, and currently find ourselves in Barcelona. In a couple of days we will complete the loop and go back to Madrid to fly home. By far, the most excitement has been from running with the bulls in Pamplona:

   Pamplona felt like a frat party stretched out to encompass an entire city. Everyone, old and young alike, 60 year olds and 6 year olds, partied at all hours of the day, 24 hours continually. Narrow streets were flooded with people, mostly dressed in white with red sashes and neck-kerchiefs. Everyone is drinking, refuse is piled along the sidewalks and the only things open in town are the hotels, bars, restaurants, and gift shops. Everything else is closed. Music is loud and changes every block or two, sometimes salsa, sometimes techno, sometimes its a traveling brass band that wanders for most of the night with celebrants following closely behind.

   We stayed up 24 hours straight celebrating with everyone before we took our first shot at being Hemingway. I was quite a sight, Kalimocho (50-50 mix of red wine and coca cola) and sangria all over my white polo, my white pants filthy from dirt and other debris. My hair was a mess, my face communicated all of the excess I had been party to. We were too far up on the course and found ourselves removed by the police to make way for other runners. We, a group of about 200 runners, tried to resist but duly followed orders after one cop split a man's head open with a baton.

   The next day we showed up and lined up early and close to the bulls�originating point, nervous energy churning in our stomachs as we tied our panuelos and cinched our.. Along the way, we stopped to buy newspapers; not to read, but to roll up and use as traditional props in the run. The very best runners, the ones who get directly in front of the bulls, sometimes, use them to draw the beasts' attention, as a matador might use a cape. Most of us just like them because its something to keep our sweaty hands occupied.

   The "Starting line" is at the bottom of Calle Santo Domingo, about 100 yards above the bulls' corral. Here there are steep walls on either side, so there is nowhere to bail out. In one of the walls, about 10 feet up, is a niche. With about half hour to go, a cadre of officials arrive with a ladder and a statue of San Fermin, which they put in the niche. With five minutes to kickoff, the festivities begin. First, a woman sings a song. Then the praying begins. With three minutes to go, the runners, pumping their rolled up newspapers in the air, chanting.

   We found ourselves crowded, too crowded, with minutes before the bulls release. People made way up a bit as possible and, when the first rocket was released, everyone in the center began to panic. Luckily, as advised, we were along the sides and avoided the madness.

   There is nothing that can come close to describing the fear that I felt when the bulls became visible. Everyone is screaming, those still unfortunate enough to be standing in the center panic and dive or run for their lives. I was frozen, wondering how in the world I convinced myself to do this.

   Out charged six bulls, their cowbells clanking around their necks. I remained still until after they passed and jumped to the street, sprinting to keep up and avoid any bulls behind me. Eric and I ran a good distance, even making it around the steep turn onto Calle Estafeta, a street with a sharp turn where the bulls slide into the corner most times, before the second pack of bulls caught up with us.

   During this time, your body is alive. The heart races, everything is a blur, and you think only of self preservation and realize how dear life is.

   Many people were slower than me and I pushed them, jumped over them, and in one case shouldered a big guy who froze up in my path. Eric trailed behind me but I wasn't aware because only a fool slows down to look behind without reason. When I heard people yelling behind me, I took my cue, looked behind, and saw a bull less than 10 feet behind me, with Eric the only person between us. Eric and I both hit the wall and let the bull pass. Then we charged forward again and ran. I lost track of Eric after this (Cliff, our third companion, was lost at the start) and just kept running.

   When shouting was audible behind me, I jumped aside again and the final three bulls passed. I ran behind them, full force with my body aching and begging for a reprieve. I pushed on, wanting to make it to the bullfighting ring, and got to the plaza de toros with the final bulls. I almost didn't get in because of a bottleneck and had to literally run on top of a human pile to get past the closing doors.

   In the ring it was just as crazy. A couple dozen guys would sit in front of a door where a bull would be released, playing chicken. Once the door was opened, a bull charged out and picked off an unlucky fellow. Then the bull would run around, all of the runners lucky enough to make it to the stadium (not a majority) scrambling to avoid harm. Twice I jumped to the walls or ground fearing for my safety. Eventually, I jumped over an inner barrier for additional safety but did so with poor timing. Moments later a door was opened to allow the bull to leave and he appeared in front of me, close enough to touch. I didn't know what to do and stood still, certain that I was about to die. He paused for a couple of seconds and I jumped behind a safety barrier behind me when he flinched.

   I joined my companions later at a local bar and we drank to celebrate the few brief minutes that we had been Hemingway. We did it. We had been scared out of our minds but we did it.

Well, I�ll write again later. I hope everyone is well, I miss you all.

Jerry