Pamplona to Majorca Spain

So, it's been really tough trying to keep up with my blog whilst traveling. Internet has been slow, and sleep has been deprived. I am back dating these posts so that they stay in order of occurrence.

It was an early morning in Pamplona. You had to be on the street inside the barricades by 7:30 if you wanted to run. We woke up around 6, put on our San Fermin uniform, and headed down to the street. Our hostal was about a 20 minute walk. We were tired and didn’t want to be late so we hopped on the bus. The lady at reception had told us which bus to take so it was easy to catch. I think it was the 1, and the N1 at night. We got down to the bullring, and decided on a rendez vous point. Under the bull. We were to meet here immediately after the run. I walked down the barricade searching for a place to squeeze into. It was packed, three layers deep. 

People were sitting on the barricade, and underneath it, while others leaned in from behind. I had found a little hole to look through. Now I just had to wait. There were balconies over hanging down all of the streets. People were filling up the balconies at every level. 

Only media and paramedics in front of this barricade

Shay heard somewhere that you could pay a local 10 or 20 euros to watch from their balcony. I had know idea how to even get up there, since everything was gated off and heavily patrolled. At about 10 minutes to go, some girl pushed her way in front of me and took my little hole. I was not impressed. She said something to me in Spanish, waiting for a response, to which I glared at her angrily. With about 5 minutes to go, the police opened the street and allowed the runners, who have piled up now, to find their places on the last few meters of street before the stadium.  The newbies  and not so savvy runners usually line up here as it is wider and directly in front of the stadium. Shay was nowhere in sight. A nice guy siting on the fence in front of me, must have felt bad for me, or felt as much contempt for the girl who had pushed in front of me at the last minute, because he gave me his hand and pulled me up on the fence in front of him.

A much better view! The police are about to open the entire street.

The trick is to not be the first into the stadium, because if you get in before the bulls, they throw glass bottles and garbage at you. You also do not touch the bulls, as that is a sign of disrepect, and the locals will beat you to a bloody pulp. I was hoping to see Shay lined up somewhere near the end. I did not see him.

At 8:00, the gun fired to sound the releasing of the bulls. The people in front started to jog lightly, as if just starting a long marathon. Some jumping up to see the progress of the bulls. Then the speed of the runners increased exponentially as the pursuit of the bulls quickened. It was like a tidal wave of people moving through a tight corridor. 

Can you find Shay?

The angry intimidating black bulls are released first. You don’t want to get face to face with one of them. Many of the locals use rolled newspapers to help heard the bulls and keep them in a pack. It’s very dangerous if they become separated from the pack.

After the first bulls get into the stadium, a second wave are released. Some people are already in the stadium at this point. The whole run takes about 3 minutes. After the second heard of bulls makes it in the police barricade the doors. I didn’t know this at the time, but Shay was the last person to squeeze through the doors and make it into the bull ring. He squeezed past the policeman who was slamming the gate closed, riccoheted off of the gate, and slid into the stadium on his side. Dusting himself off, he stood to a roaring crowd, tens of thousands strong.

I watched at the finish line as paramedics picked up the pieces of some not so fortunate runners. This day didn’t have as many gorings, but the next few days were pretty bad. One guy was thrown by his pants up in the air, gored in the groin and thigh while his pants were down. Not pretty. Another guy was gored so badly in the side he had to have his spleen removed. Tourists.

I checked the rendez-vous point, because I wasn’t sure if Shay ran right there or not. I didn’t know the details. I was hoping he wasn’t the guy on the ground getting hooked up to an IV and carefully lifted onto a stretcher.

I tried to get into the stadium. I couldn’t tell it’s size from the outside, and it was hard to even get near an open gate. I pushed my way up a stairwell, and squeezed into a tiny opening. There were only rows of heads in front of me. I couldn’t see anything. I held up my phone over the crowd in order to record what everyone was cheering about. 

Imagine playing Where's Waldo here, impossible.

Do you see the bull?

Incredible.

At this point everyone who made it into the stadium, now gets to dance with one of the black bulls. First, everyone bows down at the gate, three or four rows deep. Then they release an angry bull who leaps over these people and comes charging into the ring. You then must avoid this bull. I couldn't get pictures of this tradition, but it's depicted well here:

Bowing to the bull in the ring. 

Shay said, one guy grabbed the bulls by the horns and then preceded to try and ride it. This was frowned upon, as he got pulled down and beaten senseless. I figured I should make my way back to the rendez vous point, as we said we’d meet right after.

Shay came out ten minutes later, and I ran over to him, extremely happy that he made it out in one piece. He had a scraped shoulder, and dirty pants, but otherwise looked relatively unscathed. 

It's just an elbow...no biggy.

We walked around for what seemed like hours in search of a grocery store. When we finally found one, the scanner wasn’t working so we had to leave all of our groceries and go look for another store. Luckily there was one next door. It was more expensive, but we just needed water, fruit and yogurt to get us through the morning. 

We showered back at the hostal, and were able to see the true extent of the damage caused by sliding face first on concrete into the stadium.

Some mad road rash!

We checked out of the hostal, leaving them the last bottle of wine from France, as we would not be able to take it on the plane. We got a cab to the airport, it cost about 14 euros. We checked in and got our boarding passes for both flights to Mallorca. First to Barcelona, then to Palma, on Vueling. $404 pp round trip.

Chillin' at the Pamplona airport.

What happens in Pamplona, stays in Pamplona

As we waited at the airport, we met a guy named Jude from Brooklyn. He filled us in with all of his stories from the past few days, as he awaited his flight to Cannes.

Shay was pretty tired and slept through the first flight. 

Hello Barcelona!

We were lucky on this flight because there was no one beside us. We got off in Barcelona, but they kept our bags and put them on the next flight which was nice. There was only about half an hour to wait, so we grabbed a bite and boarded. For this flight we got the emergency exit, which was wonderful! Why can’t they make every seat like this? Too bad the flight was only 45 minutes. It would be more rewarding on the 8 hour one we have to take home from Portugal.

Bienvenido a Majorca!

Once we arrived in Mallorca, we looked up cab prices. It would cost us 92 euros to get to Cala Millor, so that was out of the question. We opted for the bus. They told us to take the airport 1 to Placa Espana, the main station, then change buses to the 412. We we got on the bus, and we were waiting to see the station. This never happened. We drove all the way to the port. When I went up to the bus driver and asked him, he laughed and gestured over his shoulder to insinuate we were long past it. He made us, and two other groups of people who had made the same mistake, get off and pay again to go back.

We went back, got off at the right station, he wouldn’t announce it or tell me when it was so we used gps, and tried to match it with different stops we were passing. The station is at street level, and is basically a bunch of bus stops around  a boulevard. It does not look like a bus station at all. Depending what side you approach from, you don’t even see the sign that says Placa Espana above the stairs that lead into the station.

We asked someone else where the bus was, because we saw no 400 bus stops. The guy at information said to go downstairs. So we ran downstairs, and up to a ticket booth, who said we could buy tickets on the bus. We ran down to the very last bus, and it was the 412! We were the last 2 people to get on, taking two of the last seats. It was about 9 euros each and would take about 2 hours. 

Sleepy Shay

This boy could fall asleep while riding an elephant through a rain storm.

This bus driver was much nicer, and when we got off the bus he pointed us in the right direction to find our hotel. It too was not well labeled from the street, but we saw a big green P on the side of one, and walked towards it. Check in was really easy, and the concierge told us if we hurried we could still get dinner. It was included in our package, as was breakfast. We had a nice enough room, two twins pushed together, and a lot of wood paneling, and the food in the hotel was great. I was worried after reading reviews, but everything was fabulous.

This side of the island caters to German people, so even the waiters will speak to you in German before Spanish even. There was a ton of selection for dinner, and they were making it fresh. There was carved turkey, pork shnitzel, beef goulash, a variety of potatoes, lots of salad choices, meats and cheeses, pizza and bread, and a variety of sour crout and sausages and soooo many desserts. Danke, danke. German dinner rocks! We hadn’t eaten much today and it was already 8:30 at this point. We were given a table that would be our table for the remainder of our stay for dinner. It was beside a middle aged German couple who nodded awkwardly at us. If they thought it was awkward now, wait until our forth or fifth helping at the buffet.

Checking out e-mail in the lobby, the only place with wifi!

After dinner we walked over to the beach. It was in front of the hotel, but the hotel doesn’t own a section of it, so you still have to pay for chairs and umbrellas. The water was so calm and still. 

So tired!

 We headed up to bed.