So this was it, the acclaimed day.
Today was the day we'd be watching the encierro (running of the bulls). Today was our Ernest Hemingway bull fighting day.
After waking up at 6:30AM, a mere 3 hours after hearing the still blaring sounds of bands in the streets, we wandered over to the infamous Estefeta curve (aka Dead Man's Curve). Our rented balcony (also rented through bullbalcony.com) overlooked the curve, so up we went.

The atmosphere was amazing. I've never seen so many people so excited this early in the morning. People were perched up on fences and staking out spots. We wandered around our fence and waiting at the door to our building. We were let in by this nice lady whose husband's family has owned the building for years, and she showed us to our balcony. It was right off a nicely appointed room with a bed and a tv! She turned on the tv to the national news, which was covering the sanfermines LIVE.

We were later joined by Jackie, an HK native turned Aussie who was touring Europe with some time off. We waiting about an hour, and watched the TV coverage, as they reviewed yesterday's race. It had a nascar feel to itas they constantly replayed (both forward and backward) any football where a runner was getting hit or trampled.

Down on the streets, the camera crews were prepping, and the streets were clearing. Then, the streets started filling up again, this time in an orderly manner, and from the start. These people were the runners. Here's something I learned: people don't run the entire course. People spread out throughout the course and plant themselves along the run. When the bulls get near you, you run with or in front of them for awhile, before eventually running off to the side. This lasts for only a few meters.

Finally the race began! From the TV, we watched the official start. We could hear from the house of burghers the official setting off the first rocket to signify that the gates had opened. A second rocket was fired to signify that all bulls had left their pen. Eventually, the crowds below us began to shift. Since we were on a curve, we couldn't see the track before the curve, but all of a sudden, the crowd starts moving, and then -- a set of horns, and the first bull turned the corner. All 6 were right there, and all made the Dead Man's Curve without a problem. And then they passed by under us, and it was over in a flash. As quickly as I thought it would end, this was even faster. So, while the atmosphere was exciting, the event itself was brief.

After the steer came through, it was time to descend.WE got some sandwiches from a convenience store for breakfast, and took an early siesta, or a resumption of the previous night's sleep.

We got up just before 1 to inquire at the visitor information desk about busses to Olite, a small town about an hour away, and to pick up our bull fighting tickets (which we had also bought through bullbalcony.com). The ticket price on the ticket was only about 30Euro, about half of what we had paid bullbalcony. Oh well, I guess that's the price you pay to take care of it before getting here.

We headed over to Pamplona's main bus terminal and waited on the street. After a few minutes, we thought it was weird that this main bus terminal was only 2 bus stops on the street, and decided to try going underground. There was an entrance with escalators and stairs, but we had originally thought it was a small shopping mall. Wrong -- downstairs is the actual regional bus terminal where the coach busses line up.

So, now we're down there, and really late for the bus we're aiming for. We ran by a bunch of different busses, and found out that the one we wanted had just started backing out. We hailed the driver and got him to stop to let us on, but he was clearly annoyed that we hadn't already bought our tickets from the ticket counter. Luckily, he let us buy some from him, and we were on our way.

Olite is an old town, and the ancient seat of the kings of Navarre. This quanit clean, beautiful town was a huge change of pace, and a nice respite from the loud, dirty streets of Pamplona overrun with sanfermines revellers.

We walked around the town (that takes all of about 15 minutes), had a nice sitdown lunch, and took a tour of the old royal palace. The palace has been well restored and gives you a good feeling about how these kings iand queens lived. The gardens are well kept, and there are sweeping views of the town and the countryside from the ramparts.

After the bus ride back to Pamplona, it was time for the bullfight. The atmosphere was amazing. Once you step in, it feels like a college football game. The sounds and energy are contagious. Eventually, the stands filled up, anbd it was time to start.

This is a very ceremonial sport. It opened up with two horsemen who ran around the ring, making two passes at each other. Next the matadors, picadores, and banderilleros come out and get introduced in a large group. Once they clear out, they bring in the first bull.

He charges in and seems a bit confused when he enters the large ring to cheering crowds. The matador and banderilleros run him around with the capes in the first round. The a drum cadence announce the next stage: the picadores. These are pike-wielding guys mounted on horses who wear these protective shields. The bull then charges at the horse, and the picador jabs the pike into the bull's back. This is done twice, and results in blood gushing down the bull's shoulder.

After two holes are made, another drum cadence sends these two horsemen out of the ring. Next came the matador (in other rounds, the matador didn't do this part, but rather, the separate banderilleros) holding banderillas -- barbed sticks with flags on the ends. He taunts the bull to make him charge and then jabs a pair of these banderillas into its back. This is done two more times, until the bull has 6 flags jab into his back.

Finally, the famous matador part starts. The bull at this point is gushing blood from his shoulder, streaming down his back. It's no wonder they pick bulls with dark hides -- its makes the blood a bit harder to see. He's also got blood coming out of his mouth. The first one exhibits a lot of showmanship and enjoys posing with the cape. He encourages the bull to charge him, and when eventually, when he approaches, he stabs the sword into his back, resulting in very racous cheering. The first jab doesn't quite kill the bull, so the matador pulls it out and jabs it back in -- this time, so far in, you can only barely see the hilt remaining.

When the bull falls over on its side, the crowd breaks out into applause and cheering, and the bands kick up into a flurry of music. It reminds me of some Harry Potter movie when someone wins a quidditch match. Someone comes otu to stab the bull in the head witih a dagger, and horses are brought out to drag the bloodied bull out of the arena. The fights take a curtain call and a lap around the ring. The next 5 fights are pretty much the same. Highlights - the matador in the second fight got tossed around a bit, and loses his pants and fights the rest of it in jeans. The 5th bull gets injured and replaced, and his replacement is too good for his fighters, who struggle to pin in the banderillas and are roundly booed by the audience.

So, the bullfighting experience was interesting. The atmosphere was fun, and the rituals were interesting to take in. The fight itself was, as a friend had put it, as disturbing as it gets without being gory.

After the fights, we decided to get Chinese food for dinner. We concluded that most of the places weren't going to be serving amazing food, but rather, would be focused just on getting enough food to service the thousands of people in town.

Upon arriving at our room, I chatted with Robbie, a college student from Tufts who was roaming around Europe a bit before meeting up with family for a trip to South Africa (my 2010 trip, hopefully!). We decided that tomorrow, we'd all head out for a trip to San Sebastian to check out the sea and the pintxos (Basque tapas) we'd heard so much about. So after a long talk (wherein I draw shock by not having seen Goonies, yet again), we head to bed to get ready to get up for the trip out to the sea.