Moonbadger's posterous

So there I was, speeding down the autopista (otherwise known as a Spanish motorway), in a rental car, in the glorious July sunshine heading towards the fabled city of Pamplona. I’d been in the Iberian Peninsula for a few months by this point. At the start of my travels I spent a week or two in both Barcelona and Madrid. After partying hard in the Spanish metropolises I decided to venture down south to the sunny Costa del Sol and experienced the night life of various resorts, including Marbella and Torremolinos. Even during the highest moments of those sun filled weeks something compelling kept urging me to drive north.

After one particularly raucous night out on the town, slightly dishevelled and completely hung-over, I realised that my time on the sun coast was at an end. I only had a month or two of finances left anyway so I decided to head north and give in to the pull of Pamplona. I sorted out some car hire Spain and began my drive north to where the bulls roamed. It was early June by this point and I had a week or two to kill, so I sidestepped Madrid and headed north to the historic city of Leon.       
  
If you think that Barcelona and Madrid are the cultural capitals of Spain then you may be right, but the historical centre has always been Leon. Filled with galleries, museums and epic monuments dating back to the 14th century Reconquista era, Leon is a fantastic site to behold, a jewel set amongst the Cantabrian Mountains. After a week of stuffing myself full of history I once again embarked in my hire car northwards towards the city of bulls, Pamplona.

Legend has it that the great bull run of Pamplona started out as a humble cattle drive, a simple transportation of the herd from corral to market. During the drive herders would use various tactics to speed up the process. This soon became a form of competition between the young men, from then onwards the tradition spread, becoming a way for the youth to test their bravado against others.

The run begins on the 7th of July at 7:30am. After the competitors have completed their prayers to Saint Fermin a rocket is set off alerting the runner that the gates have been opened. The second rocket announces to all that the six bulls and steers have been released. After that 4mins of mayhem, blood, fence jumping, goring and the occasional death occur. It’s believed that an average of 200-300 injuries occur every year during the bull-run. Since 1910 15 people have died competing in the race. Rather than face an early grave, I decided to sit back and watch the spectacle, rather than indulge in my suicidal tendencies. It was an experience I will never forget, several days of mayhem that will stay with for the rest of my life.

With both time and money running out, I returned my hire car at the nearest depot and once again headed back to Barcelona for a final few days of sun and bright lights, away from the heady rush of trampling bulls and men wearing red....