Hello everyone. I'm Marko. This is Alex,
We're the Vagabrothers.
And right now we're in Pamplona for San Fermin.
The Running of the Bulls
or La Fiesta de San Fermin
is the king of all festivals. Every year people
from around the world gather in Pamplona, Spain
from July 7-14 to witness
one of the world's most dangerous traditions.
Running the "encierro", a narrow half mile sprint
through Pamplona's old town chased by
six raging bulls.
It's incredibly dangerous. Over the last century,
over a dozen people have died,
and more people are injured every year.
Still, the fiesta attracts millions of
spectators and hundreds of runners
who risk their lives to run with the bulls.
We've wanted to come for a long time.
So when we were invited to stay in the apartment
of our friend's aunt, a 30 year San Fermin veteran,
we jumped on a bus to Pamplona
to see the fiesta for ourselves, and maybe
even run with the bulls.
First things first. We've got to find a uniform
and find where we're staying, which is going to be insane
because we're realizing now, with our backpacks on,
that we have to somehow make it through this huge crowd.
Heart of the city. Let's go.
We found the apartment, dropped off our stuff,
and hit the streets in our new costumes:
white shirt, white pants, red "pañuelo" and red sash.
The streets were packed with people,
but it hasn't always been like this.
It was originally a religious celebration of a Pamplona
born Saint Fermin, later combined with a medieval fair
where cattle merchants brought bulls
and bull fighting into the city.
Things changed in the 1920s when American author, Ernest Hemingway,
set his novel, The Sun Also Rises,
at the festival, putting Pamplona on the map
for millions and lending a mythical status to the fiesta.
San Fermin is extremely popular with foreigners
with almost two thirds of the people who run the encierro
coming from abroad.
We weren't sure we wanted to run,
so we asked some locals for their advice.
We found some sisters,
and we're brothers. Tomorrow running with the bulls?
No.
That's for only the "guiris"
What's a "guiri"? You!
We decided to hold off the running for a few days
and check out the party because most people don't come to run,
they come for the fiesta.
If the "encierro" is a sprint, then the party is a marathon.
Eight days straight, all day, all night
from noon on July 6 to midnight
on the 14th.
You drink beer by the liter, vino,
from the wine skin, cocktails for breakfast,
and,of course, the fuel of the party, "kalimocho"
coca cola and box wine mixed half and half
in a one liter cup. Sounds gross,
but it's great. To survive a week long party,
you need to think strategically.
Line your stomach with bocadillos de tortilla.
Buy booze at supermarkets instead of in the bars,
and remember to pace yourself because if you don't,
you'll end up like these guys.
Luckily we had a place to stay, so we snuck power naps
whenever possible.
And this is the consequence of partying too hard
at San Fermin.
Mark! (snore) Mark!
Mark!
Out cold.
Mark. What?
What's up?
Where am I?
But there's a lot more to the festival than just drinking booze.
The life of the party is groups of friends and families
called "peñas" parade through town,
playing music, singing songs, and keeping spirits high.
Beyond that, every morning they're parades of big heads
giants, and "zaldikos"
guys who endear themselves to little children by beating
them with a foam flail.
There were also traditional Basque sports
such as wood chopping, hay bale lifting
and milk carrying. But for us, the coolest tradition of all
was that of the "jota." We're in the middle
of an amazing rap battle
old school, "jota" style
These guys are rhyming the dirtiest rhymes, and they're hilarious.
So check it out.
When my grandfather died
He died with his asshole open [i.e. totally broke]
When my grandfather died
and in his will he left
a fart for every grandchild
We ate, we drank, we sang.
But at the heart of San Fermines is the "encierro"
the running of the bulls that happens every morning
at 8 am.
At 6 am, the party winds down, the barriers go up,
and people fight for the few spots there are
to watch the run.
At 7, runners meet en mass
in front of the town hall.
And at 8, the bulls are let loose,
sprinting up Santa Domingo, around "La Curva"
or Dead Man's Curve, on the Calle Estafeta
and finally into the bull ring.
Hemingway once said that
courage is grace under pressure,
an ideal he saw best embodied by
Spain's bull fighter.
But for many travelers, running with the bulls
is their one big chance to prove their own courage.
There's even a group of foreigners who run everyday,
every year for decades, and we spoke to one of them
who's been doing it the longest,
Joe Ditsler.
I've been coming to Pamplona since 1968,
and up until last year, I ran it every
encierro, every day, and
running has changed dramatically since I first came
because when we ran, we were ballet runners.
There were fewer people in the street and
you could run in and out of the bulls.
It was very casual.
We also met a local who was gored a couple years ago,
and quite literally, given a new asshole!
Just think about that!
This is what happens when you run with the bulls
Feliz ano nuevo! [Play on words: "Happy new anus" instead of "Happy new year."]
We weren't excited about getting gored,
but we knew we couldn't make a film about running with
the bulls without actually running with the bulls.
So on the last day, we did it.
It just happened to be on the day with the biggest
and most dangerous bulls.
It's 7 in the morning.
It's Monday. It's the last day of the running
running with the bulls here in Saint Fermin,
and we are going for our first bull run, and
I'm scared shitless! Yeah, this is definitely a bad idea.
But, I don't think we can talk about this festival without
trying it ourselves. So
we're doing it so you don't have to.
Here we are San Fermin 2014.
Maybe you will.
Unfortunately for this video, but also understandably,
in the age of the selfie, you're not allowed
to film during the run, and cops are handing out
600 Euro fines to people with Go Pros.
We asked a lot of people where to go and how to run,
but in the heat of the moment, we ended up standing
in the worst place, La Curva
also known as Dead Man's Curve.
Next thing you know, fireworks go off, bulls start
running in a wave of people sweep around the corner.
When we see the bulls, I start running, and
I lose Alex. Then you can just hear this
do do do do do do, and the bells
that are on the necks of the bulls.
Next thing you know, it's just chaos.
At the end of the run, I found myself in the
Plaza del Torros, surrounded by people,
but Mark was nowhere to be seen.
Oh my god.
So, so crazy!
My heart is just pumping through my chest.
Next, I saw images of a person being gored
right where we were standing.
I sprinted past the paramedics outside and made it
to our meeting point.
I found Marko. That was pretty wild.
I found myself......they all started.......I don't know
where you went.
The bulls were running.I just got the hell out of the way.
The next thing I knew, I was hanging off
a balcony. I waited, and when the bulls passed,
two of them stopped, and they were
really three or four feet away from me
and giving the eyeball, and I just
booked it. On the big screen,
we watched a video of a 26 year old Australian
who was standing just 10 feet away from us,
get his leg literally shredded.
It made us realize that it could have just as
easily been us. And we hate to sound like your moms,
but after having done it ourselves,
we highly recommend that you do not run with the bulls
because it's a rush that is just not worth the risk.
Let's not beat around the bush,
Bloodshed and danger are central to the festival
because those 6 bulls are being run into the bull ring
where they're going to be killed in a bull fight
every night for a week straight.
Bull fighting is really controversial,
not just in Spain, but world wide.
Some people consider it an art,
others, torture and murder.
Whenever you travel, you're exposed to cultural
practices and traditions that are different from your own.
And sometimes, they're even diametrically
opposed to your own values.
It makes you think about the balance between
respecting cultural differences
and imposing your values on another society.
So, in the case of bull fighting, what should you do?
Should you accept it as a tradition that is different from your own?
Boycott the bull fight or attended hoping for
understanding through experience?
Obviously, the choice is yours, but in our case,
we decided to attend one of the eight bull fights.
It was my first bull fight ever, and I came with a
relatively open mind. But,
honestly, I found it really difficult to watch,
especially because the bull fighter could not kill the bull.
It took him over a dozen stabs to finally kill him.
That being said, I don't see bull fighting disappearing
from Pamplona anytime soon. As for me,
I've always been a fan of Hemingway, but
I disagree with his definition of bravery.
As a traveler, you don't need to run with the bulls to
prove your courage.
If you step outside your comfort zone, meet locals,
engage in their culture: that in itself is courageous
and far more rewarding.
On the last day, they swept the streets clean,
and at midnight, everyone gathered
in the main square to take off
their panuelos and sing farewell to
San Fermin, counting down the days
until next year's party begins.
San Fermin is one of the best parties we've ever been to,
but running with the bulls is no joke.
So if you're going to run, make sure it's 100%
worth the risk to you because, quite frankly,
you could die!
And although we don't agree with bull fighting, it made
us wonder if the running with the bulls could survive
without it. It also made us question our role as travelers
in lands of traditions and values
different from our own. So how about we ask you
a question. Would you ever run with the bulls?
Would you ever watch a bull fight?
Or have you experienced a similar traveler's dilemma
somewhere else around the world?
Let us know in the comment box below,
or on social media @ Vagabrothers.
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every Tuesday. Buen viaje adventureros! [Happy travels, adventurers!]
Y nos vemos en el camino! (And we'll see you on the road!)
Agur! [Goodbye in Basque]