BEST OF SPAIN:

Well, this whole entire trip has been pretty awesome. But the thing that has stood out the most is the festival of Sanfermines. To you Americans, it is called the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona (it's okay, I didn't know they called it that for the longest time either). I have never seen a crazier night. But let's start at the beginning. We wanted to get the biggest bang for our buck, so we wanted to get to Pamplona as early as possible to enjoy all that it had to offer. Our train left at midnight from Salamanca. Hearing stories about being mugged in the middle of the street didn't sound fun, so Jake and I decided to travel ultra-light. We would be meeting up with a few amigas in San Sebastian where they would replenish our supplies. I had a small backpack, containing a change of clothes, a bocadillo (a tasty, tasty sandwhich), fruit, water, tickets and cash. Sounds like I am ready to go! We have to transfer over to another train station about an hour outside of Pamplona; a little place called Vitoria. We have about 3 hours to kill, so we lay on the benches outside the trainstation, desperately trying to get a few hours of sleep. Something to note: I failed to realize after traveling 4 hours north, it was significantly colder than Salamanca. It is hot here, and i mean really hot. Every day (and night), it is shorts, tee shirt and sandals. So naturally, what with our limited carrying capacity, I didn't bring any pants or sweatshirt. I froze my ass off for 3 hours outside on a hard bench. Not a good start.

We transfer trains, get to Pamplona and start living it up. We casually stroll around until we bump into a crazy crazy parade, full of creatures that would frighten the hell out of me if i were a child. We followed a line of people which eventually lead us to a bull fighting ring. Que suerte. (No bulls were harmed during our visit, don't worry). After viewing a few bullfights, cultural shows involving singing, dancing people and horses, (and a few naps inbetween, of course), we enojy the rest of the day at a local cafe.

This is where things start to pick up (READ: People start drinking). From about 10 pm to about 6 am, I have never seen something this crazy. Every single street was packed with people. Every bar, every cafe, every plaza. Things start to get a little blurry at this point, but we met some very interesting people. Not much to say other than it was a party in the street and everyone is invited. People were spiking glass containers in the middle of the most crowded areas as if it were their job. By the end of it, the streets were covered in 3 solid inches of trash, and smelled very similar to what I imagine the container part of an outhouse smells like.

Around 6 am, they start setting up the fences for the running of the bulls. Immediately, all the good spots are taken. Nobody in the city slept the whole night (unless you were passed out on a bench with your head between your legs). So, we waited behind the fence, near the end of the run (hoping that is where runners would be tired, and thus more likely to be gored), for about 2 hours. Trying not to pass out, and being shoved by the locals, we watch the glorious event that is the running of the bulls. I try not to be pesimisstic, but it was hard to see much (plus, nobody got hurt). It was definitely worth it though.