Gypsy Adventures

The carnal pulse of euphoric music engulfs the cobble stone streets of Pamplona. A feeling of exhilaration washes over me as I wander amid the gyrating sea of punch-drunk, dancing bodies. Santo Domingo square thrives with the unbridled excitement of the unknown. I can’t help but wonder if these feelings are a harbinger of things to come.
At dawn I step into the traditional white gauchos, accented by the infamous, beast taunting red sash. My heart nearly thumps out of my chest, while anxiously waiting for the screeching rocket to spark into the sky, marking the beginning of this dicey endeavor. With my brother by my side, we are ready to take on the world! The streets echo as several pastores raise their rolled newspapers and chant to the image of San Fermín. The bulls rush from their pen with powerful speed. The crowd screams and chaos ensues as the frantically enthralled masses push their way towards the arena.

Jogging several hundred feet ahead I think “It will be a while before they are near." 40 seconds pass, the enormous beasts are within arm’s reach! The ground trembles at what feels like the equivalent of a 9.6 on the Richter scale. The reek of sweating hide cannot conceal the smell of fear that consumes the air. It is madness! Avoiding bulls and dodging the fear crazed runners, my temples pulse as bursts of adrenaline give me strength to run like I've never run before. We lock arms and hurdle a few piles of fallen people. Heading straight to the back wall of the arena we check for injuries, hug and snap a few photos before the next round of bulls are released. A gush of wind blows past. We see several people going down like rag dolls, limp and motionless falling to the ground. Realizing we are not in a safe zone we climb into the stadium to become onlookers of this surreal experience. A spectacle that would be unimaginable anywhere else in the world is that of Encierro. This act, unlike any other I’ve encountered leaves me with a deep appreciation for life.