Running for our lives in Pamplona...and updates from Barcelona

So we arrived in Barcelona Monday night to begin this trip, and ever since we got here we started hearing some buzz about the running of the bulls (Festival de San Fermin) in Pamplona, Spain (about 4 hours or so from here...or, if you are on "Stoke Tours" travel bus, more like 6) because it runs from July 6 to the 14th or so. (If you're not sure what the running entails, look it up, because I have a 5am flight to catch tomorrow so I don't want to explain it all.) For instance, a crazy Australian girl on our bike tour who was going: "Yeah, I, mean, it's a risk to do it...but I think you're like a little less likely to not get gorged than to get gorged by the bulls." Or, some lady we met from Minnesota who is living here for her job for the summer: "Yeah, I have this friend who woke up in a tent like two days after the bull fight with bruises on one entire side of her body, and she had blacked out and had nooo idea what happened. Then she watched a youtube video of herself and saw herself running towards the bulls with her arms flailing." And then we did some research ourselves and watched videos like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNcl8LKxjTo


So, to sum up: a) You're more likely not to be killed than to be killed; b) Don't get wildly drunk and then try to outrun 6 one and a half ton bulls...or don't run at them, for that matter; c) This festival is a must-see (well, in my case a "must-see"; in Justin's a "must-do"). So we did some research on how not to die ("The bulls tend to go wide, so hug the corners" etc.), and signed up with an insane tour group called Stoke Tours ("You'll come back completely exhausted but also stoked"). So the "tour" group drops off about 6 busloads of crazy people in downtown Pamplona at midnight last night, telling us all to meet back at the bus stop at 11am the next morning. Now, this isn't exactly what we had expected (they had promised "accomadations"), but don't get me started on Stoke Tours. Anyway, there is the craziest party allll night. I've never seen anything like it. So everyone's plan is to stay up all night and party and then get chased by some bulls at 8am? That sounds crazy, right? Well, it is crazy. I've never seen anything like it. 


So, bottom line is, I was never planning on running (there are usually only a few girls), but suddenly at 6am I find myself lining up for the bull run amidst a bunch of wildly drunk people (who I am actually more concerned about hurting me than the actual bulls) and the people are building up fences around me so I can't get out. So by 7:15 I'm starting to have a panic attack and the crazy Australians are telling me that they aren't going to take any prisoners (if you do your research online, it says you're more likely to be tripped and trampled on by people than the actual bulls). Then 7:55 rolls around and they tell us to start running because the bulls will be released soon....and so I'm jogging and then I turn the corner and some police confiscate me and tell me to leave the running (a lot of girls are told they can't run, and plus I had a drawstring backpack on, which isn't allowed apparently). Well, they didn't need to tell me twice...I quick hopped the fence with my stuff and took refuge behind the fence taking pictures and watching the madness. So, unfortunately (or fortunately?), I can't say I've done it, but, really, I got some nice pics, and most importantly, the sweet outfit. Justin, of course, had me hold his bag. And you'll see from the progression of pictures that I was starting to have second-thoughts about doing it anyway:

12:30am: "I'm so stoked"

2:30am: "Haha, bulls are hilarious"

3:30am: "I'm going to eat these bulls for breakfast"

4:00am: "I've lived here in Pamplona my whole life and I would neeeever get into that bull run"

6:00am: "No more smiling...time to focus"

7:50am: "Is it too late to dip out?"

10:00am: "Running from bulls, or psyching yourself out and then not actually doing it, takes a lot out of you"

And, well, the good thing about not running is that I could get some sweet pics...after the run the bulls are released on all the runners in this huge arena...where stupid people try to aggravate them and then get nearly killed while the crowd watches...it's actually kind of messed up.

Anyway, besides the bull run (everything else now seems boring in comparison) we have spent the last several days visiting the sights (some old churches, parks, castles, etc.) in Barcelona (or Barttthhhelona, as they say) and navigating the metro system, as well as trying all the typical Spanish food -- paella, bocadillos, and tapas. And also trying to adjust to the six-hour time change, which I had finally adjusted to until our all-nighter last night. We also went on a bike tour of the city, which was a highlight since we had a crazy guide named Tullis (think thick British accent: "If you find yerself thinking, 'Oh bloody I've lost the tour group,' just stay where you are.") and at least one person who had seemingly never ridden a bike before and got lost every two minutes. Anyway, I've really liked Spain and one of my highlights so far has been practicing my very thick Spanish accent --essentially just talking with a lisp (or, as Justin seems to think, going over the top with it)...and I've made it my life goal to learn to speak Spanish with different accents. But it's on a plane to Rome tomorrow morning, so I guess I'll put the Spanish on hold and start brushing up on some Italian!