Written by: Meghan Toppino • Design & Layout by: Chelsea Coolsaet
My memory of witnessing the “Running of the Bulls” in Pamplona, Spain is like recalling a dream. I am standing on a balcony two stories above the famed Santo Domingo Street, looking down on a sea of people dressed in their traditional whites and reds. With the day’s newspaper clutched tightly in their hands and held high in the air, they begin chanting a prayer in unison to San Fermin, the patron saint of the festival and the city, asking for his protection. It is 7:59 AM on this beautiful July morning, and what is about to happen is a century’s old tradition. I hear a loud burst in the distance, the first rocket going off, a signal to all that the gates of the corral holding the bulls has now been opened. There is electricity in the air that I have never felt before, and I have mixed emotions of fear and excitement. I focus in on my father, Paul Toppino, running for his first time. A second rocket hits the air. Six bulls and six steers have officially been released on to the street. In what seems like slow motion, the crowd begins to move. From my small balcony, I see several dark, shadowy masses appear around the far corner, swiftly mixing with the sea of white. The bulls are running…
The actual ‘Running of the Bulls’ is just one part of an eight day festival called Sanfermines. Although this tradition has been going on for centuries, it has become more popular since Ernest Hemingway wrote The Sun Also Rises in 1926. The running begins at 8:00 AM on July 7, and continues every morning for eight days. Daredevils, young and old, run the .51 mile course, dodging both fellow runners and animals, ending at the Plaza de Toros where the bulls are held in a pen for the bull fights later in the day. After the run, both runners and spectators head to various bars and meeting places to tell their stories of the morning’s events. The infamous Bar Txoko in the Plaza del Castillo is where we ended up on this morning. I was handed a native drink called Kaiku y Cognac, a mixture of thick milky vanilla liquid and cognac, which I would compare to tasting almost like Crown Royal and Yoohoo. I sat back and listened to the various tales, just amazed to be a part of something so special.
While the actual running of the bulls is the best known part of this fiesta, there are many other traditional activities. Bull fights are another big attraction during the annual Sanfermines festival. If you’ve never been to a bull fight, I can assure you that it is not for the faint of heart. Caught up in the romance and excitement of this tradition, I attended one and was unprepared for what I saw. I am not condoning or disagreeing with this custom, just understand exactly what you will be seeing before you decide to go. While it is a dazzling spectacle steeped in tradition, with sequined costumes, cheering, and bravery, the result is always tragic and bloody - one way or the other.
PULSE MAGAZINE ---------- 60
Parades and parties fill the streets at every hour of the day and night during this week. Street performers and musicians create a constant buzz in the air and make even the thought of sleep impossible! At any moment, you can be swept into an impromptu parade and find yourself dancing and singing along in Spanish - whether you know the language or not! On this night, countless unidentified drinks and sleep deprivation turned me into a drunken American version of Charo. Thankfully, we had forgotten the video camera!
Later on we found ourselves part of a children’s street parade, where little kiddies were running away from a man covered in bottle rockets and fireworks with a large plastic bull on his head. Coming from a culture when, if little Bobby falls and scrapes his knee, he is rushed to the ER, it was insane to see parents thrust their children in front of a mad man strapped with explosives. While almost being flattened by the mob, stories of my demise flashed in my mind… It was terrifying!
“Did you hear what happened to Meghan? She was trampled during the Sanfermines festival!”
“Oh, God, by the bulls?”
“No, by a herd of screaming eight year olds. So tragic!”
For someone looking for more information, I would suggest the book Pamplona- Running the Bulls, Bars and Barrios in Fiesta de San Fermin by Ray Mouton. We were lucky enough to meet this author and amazing man. A special thanks to him and his friend, Jesse, for showing us the ins and outs of the fiesta, and for making our trip such an incredible experience! One day I will dance and sing in the streets of Pamplona once again. The camaraderie and passion of the people who choose to gather here is unparalleled, and I find myself craving the experience in my life for years to come… and that’s no bull!
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