The “Spanish Thing”
By The Pamplona Posse
Okay, you have seen it on ESPN. You have read about it La Fiesta, better known as The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway. And now you are ready to go to Spain and experience La Fiesta de San Fermin and the running of the bulls for yourself. Great! You are in for the time of your life, unless you have already had a ménage a trios with two world class models—male or female, which could justifiably count as the time of your life. Even if that is the case, this is still going to be a wild ride. There is more to Pamplona and Spain than running with 1000 pounds of pissed off estofado.
First, before you even think of getting to Spain, you have to think of getting to Spain. Plan to make your reservations at least six months in advance, for both the plane ride and accommodations. Take my advice and find accommodations with a reputable broker, such as Graeme Galloway and the Pamplona Posse. (Seriously, This guy has not been paid to write this!) There are so many things that can go wrong and so many things to see to that you do not even know about, not to mention the language barrier that exists for most folks. Dealing with the Posse makes it easy—one contact for all of your questions. Once you have been there and done a fiesta, then you might consider going it on your own.
Now, here is a piece of advice you may not find in most articles—get in shape before you come! Make sure that you can run and run quickly before you come to run with the bulls. Distance is not a concern; the bulls are going to be past you before you know it anyway. You are not going to be running with them for long, so make sure you are quick, so you can enjoy the short distance you have with them, and so that you can get the hell out of the way if you need to! Getting in shape, to most people, means exercising, running, and the like. And that is all good—do it. But there is more to getting in shape for San Fermin.
About three months before the fiesta I start drinking. Don’t laugh; I’m serious. I try to build up my tolerance so I can enjoy all the various alcoholic wonders Spain has to offer and not get trashed on the second or third hole of golf. I also start trying to stay up for extended periods of time on the weekends (I tried it during the week, but it was just too damn bothersome). But you need to do this so you can familiarize yourself with your body and how it reacts to this kind of stress, especially if you are going to be running with the bulls. It is one thing to be groggy and not all that coordinated if you are just going to watch, but you need to be ready and in proper physical condition to run with the bulls. Besides, if la policia happens to notice you are not in shape to run, they will promptly escort you off the course, and not necessarily gently. For running advice you need to contact the Pamplona Posse!
Now you have run and survived. Isn’t this an awesome feeling!! Now you can start to hear things again. The rest of the world starts to come back to you. You become aware of all that is happening around you. Your first thought is, I need alcohol. Una cerveza grande. Una sangria. Whatever. After your drink, you have the rest of the day to enjoy hermosa Pamplona. So what do you do? Well after your cerveza grande, go get a fantastic breakfast. Spain is known for its wonderful ham; go get some with eggs and un cortado. After that, sleep may not be a bad idea. This is the time to sleep. Things around town quiet down for a while after the encierro. People sleep; tabernas restock. Do your body a favor and hit the hay, but all the time remembering what you just did.
Before I came to Pamplona for the first time, I read in an article in the Fanzine that suggested that one do more than get drunk and run with the bulls. The author suggested that you run or watch, walk around Pamplona, go into a taverna and have some wine, walk some more, go into another taverna and have some ham, walk, drink some water (yes, the water is great!), walk, eat some ham, walk drink more wine—you get the picture. The ham is an absolute must; whether you have the Serrano or the Pata Negra (Black Foot). What’s the difference? About 20 euros per plate. No kidding, the Serrano goes for about 4 Euros per plate while the Pata Negra can run between 20 and 24 Euros. But you have to try the Pata Negra at least once! And when you order the Pata Negra, you get quite a display while the camarero slices your ham. First, he takes the leg down from the hook (yes the entire hind leg is hanging in the taberna) and shows it to you, ensuring that
you know it is indeed Pata Negra. The leg has the hoof still attached; how else could you tell if it is truly Pata Negra? He then takes the ham over to the counter, lays it on the slicer, and checks to make sure you are watching and that you see that he has put the Pata Negra on the slicer. He then slices the ham, checking periodically to see if you are watching. Once he is done slicing, he picks up the pile of ham, holds it next to the leg, and shows it to you, so you can once again see that it is indeed Pata Negra. He then lays the ham on a plate, picks up the leg, presents it to you one more time, as if to say “This is the leg from which I just cut your ham,” and hangs it back on the hook. He then presents your plate of Pata Negra to you, probably with a little bread. As you can see, serving Pata Negra is a big deal in Spain. It is also a big deal that you pay attention while your ham is being sliced. In fact, if you notice, you will see signs hanging behind the bars that state something to the effect that “Our customers can always be assured that they receive what they order.” So do the Pata Negra—you and your palate will both be entertained.
Another obvious must do in Pamplona, in Spain for that matter, is the sangria, which is basically red wine (tinto) with fruit. But to merely state it that way is gross injustice. It is ambrosia. And you may be surprised to realize that there are as many different recipes (recetas) for sangria as there are camareros, but they all taste very similar—fantastic! As for the fruit, you can have none, but that would be a shame, so try the strawberries (fresas), the oranges (naranja), of course, and my favorite, the peach (melocoton). Over ice, there is absolutely nothing better. Speaking of fruit, while you are in Pamplona, fresh fruit is another must try. Go in to one of the local tiendas de comestibles and buy some fresh fruit. The local peaches are unbelievable, and they have this variety of a small pear that is almost too sweet! Take your Spanish dictionary along and you will be fine.
Finally, there is one thing that you should never stop doing while in Pamplona—meeting the people! Spaniards are fantastic—if you give them a chance. Do not go there with the attitude, “Well, we certainly don’t do it that way!” Americans are especially known for doing this, hence the term “Ugly American.” Everywhere we went we were treated with kindness and hospitality. But some of our treatment (By Russ Newman of the Pamplona Posse
you know it is indeed Pata Negra. The leg has the hoof still attached; how else could you tell if it is truly Pata Negra? He then takes the ham over to the counter, lays it on the slicer, and checks to make sure you are watching and that you see that he has put the Pata Negra on the slicer. He then slices the ham, checking periodically to see if you are watching. Once he is done slicing, he picks up the pile of ham, holds it next to the leg, and shows it to you, so you can once again see that it is indeed Pata Negra. He then lays the ham on a plate, picks up the leg, presents it to you one more time, as if to say “This is the leg from which I just cut your ham,” and hangs it back on the hook. He then presents your plate of Pata Negra to you, probably with a little bread. As you can see, serving Pata Negra is a big deal in Spain. It is also a big deal that you pay attention while your ham is being sliced. In fact, if you notice, you will see signs hanging behind the bars that state something to the effect that “Our customers can always be assured that they receive what they order.” So do the Pata Negra—you and your palate will both be entertained.
Another obvious must do in Pamplona, in Spain for that matter, is the sangria, which is basically red wine (tinto) with fruit. But to merely state it that way is gross injustice. It is ambrosia. And you may be surprised to realize that there are as many different recipes (recetas) for sangria as there are camareros, but they all taste very similar—fantastic! As for the fruit, you can have none, but that would be a shame, so try the strawberries (fresas), the oranges (naranja), of course, and my favorite, the peach (melocoton). Over ice, there is absolutely nothing better. Speaking of fruit, while you are in Pamplona, fresh fruit is another must try. Go in to one of the local tiendas de comestibles and buy some fresh fruit. The local peaches are unbelievable, and they have this variety of a small pear that is almost too sweet! Take your Spanish dictionary along and you will be fine.
Finally, there is one thing that you should never stop doing while in Pamplona—meeting the people! Spaniards are fantastic—if you give them a chance. Do not go there with the attitude, “Well, we certainly don’t do it that way!” Americans are especially known for doing this, hence the term “Ugly American.” Everywhere we went we were treated with kindness and hospitality. But some of our treatment
was due to our own actions. We tried to speak their language and do things their way. We tried to speak their language and do things their way. When they saw we were trying to do “the Spanish thing,” they opened their arms and welcomed us and helped us all they could. And remember, more people speak English in Spain than you may think, so don’t make the mistake of thinking that nobody understands you. A friend of mine who owns a taberna (who I met my first year) told me of a group of tourists from a certain country “down unda” who were absolute Neanderthals (not the world she actually used). And being a very good English speaker, she understood all they said, including the crass and crude. Well, let’s just say they did not receive the benefits of my friend’s best service.
Another page on meeting the people is on going to a bullfight. If you get the chance, GO! The crowd is fantastic! It is three hours of absolute fun. Even the sangria baths are fun (for some people!).
And afterwards, if you can find a place, try to have the estofado del toro—beef stew made from the meat of the bull killed in the ring that day. It is as tender and flavorful as anybody could want. But be forewarned: you may not get any butter to go with your bread nor any salt or pepper. Then again, you won’t need it. We had the estofado del toro at a bar named El Gol. This is a perfect example of why you do the “Spanish thing.”
My wife and I got there early and had a few cervezas, sangrias, etc. When we were finally seated, the waitress treated us with indifference, pegging us as American tourists. When I asked if there was any butter or salt or pepper, I was curtly answered in the negative. I thought, “Damn, what did I do to piss her off?” But as the evening wore on, and I used my merely adequate Spanish on her, she began to lighten up. Then a large group of people, I think it was a family, broke into song. Acapella they sang a Basque folk song. It was fantastic! When she saw how much we enjoyed the song, she eased up more and started speaking some English to us. Finally, after 20 minutes of her speaking in English and me using Spanish, we were down right chums. When we got up to leave, she seemed surprised. We explained to her that we did not want to take up the table any longer since there were people waiting. She told us to sit down and to leave when we were ready;
those people could wait. The most important thing was for us to enjoy ourselves; when their turn came, they would sit and enjoy themselves. After a flan, a cortado, and more sangria we finally got up to leave and she came to us all smiles whishing us a fine evening. As we were leaving, I went to the gentleman who appeared to be at the head of the table of the family that sang and thanked him for the beautiful song. I must have put an “e” on the end of cancion, because he asked if I was Italian. When I told him no, I was American, he smiled and stood up and shook my hand. The entire table made a fuss over us. All the men shook my hand and blew kisses to my wife, and all the ladies were smiling and waving. I guess they were surprised to be approached by Americans—I later found out that Americans are supposed to be afraid of the Basques. Oh well. By being nice ourselves and trying to immerse ourselves in the Spanish culture, we made friends and had a wonderful time that night, which may not have happened if we had been the typical “ugly Americans.”
There you have it. The fiesta, the drinking, the partying, and of course, the running are all fantastic, but don’t overlook all the other opportunities for fun that Pamplona has to offer. Get busy on the language. The way I look at it, it is just down right discourteous to not try to speak the native tongue—wherever you go. So learn some helpful phrases and use them. Go out and try some of the local produce. Try the local cuisine. Hit some of the sightseeing spots. Maybe even go fishing. So enjoy the fiesta, but get out and do more than just party. Do the “Spanish thing.”
