I remember when I was younger and hearing my Uncle Phil talk about the Running of the Bulls in Spain. Although I forget the full details of the convo, which knowing Phil would have been a one way street, and a lengthy one at that! But like the rest of the Family, he tells a bloody good yarn. This one involving him running down cobbled streets being chased by rather hefty bovines. Although it took me some years to not picture him, all 60kg (wet) ,running from the Black and white ‘far side’ variety. Any how, he tells of himself battling these beasts in t
he ring and a huge crowd cheering him on! Also perhaps leaping off one Statue, which surprises me that anyone would catch you Phil! Haha (Confirm?)
With this in mind the tour stampeded its way towards Pamplona, more than happy with our 6 days in Valencia, and ready for an even bigger few days. The funny thing is I always pictured Pamplona as a sleepy little Spanish town, all dirt roads and donkeys. We’ll as it happened, and has done on far to frequent an occasion, I was wrong. A thriving metropolis, for lack of a better narrative.
We were meeting a few Heavy weights (Reputation, not size, although formidable) in Pamps, one Steven Terrence Harbott and Aaron “Tokaroa” Tapsil. We had all booked in with the Evergreen tour group the Beige Brigade, who are making a good old foothold in Europe. Perfect set-up at the closest camping ground to the city. A giddy excitement brewed as we were greeted with well over 700 Aussies and a tight (knit) 150 Kiwis! Plus many others around the camp ground!
Thursday night consisted of the usual meet and greet, as the lads did the rounds. Had a excellent random run in with a few good mates from our old Stomping ground Westlake Boys’ High. Ben Dalton, Craig Espie and Matt Massey were all on the tour too…the numbers were swelling! Good messy night ensued.
So it was onto the Friday, and opening ceremony of the San Fermin Festival.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Fermin
Traditional white and red garb are donned for this, and every other day to be fair. Which is nice, if not a little unoriginal. Apparently it’s the new black. So we all headed into the streets, buying the local drink Sangria by the 2L. Cheap……
Within 10ft of hitting the main square the madness started. Drink spraying every where, it was like the F1 champagne ceremony for the next 2hrs, but Sangria instead. I tell you what, Nappysan would make a bloody fortune over hear, and this place is a mothers worst nightmare…from a Laundry stand point, if not every other point to. Like putting a red shirt in with the whites! . People were going nuts, worse (Better) than any Metallica mosh pit could throw at you, yes like a mosh pit with no music. Then the Squeeze started and the Mayor kicked off the 8 day party with a feeble 10 second speech….. thus in one fowl swoop betting the Ramati South Primary School fastest speech time by a slowly kid named Alistair (It must have been hard to
elaborate on finer points of his pet, Rusty, the Skink), but not the most up lifting speech from Mayor Pamps, but then again who needs motivation when you have 9 Bulls running at your bits the next day.
The day ended back by the camp getting pickled by the pool and general banter. A horrible squalid little invention in Spain (Korea I suspect, I never got to close to the fine print) were these childish loud hailers. They play ring tones, and that old Spanish classic - wait for it ------ you all know the words – Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole …..Ole, Ole, Ole….A chant which comes a dam close second to the worlds worst – Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oi Oi Oi. Bleeding ears material. Anyhow, these freaking things were every where, including one lurking around the pool the whole day, like a Jehovah’s witness looking for a promotion. This painful twat just keep on preaching the whole day, not religion, but opinions and jokes (Debatable ones at that). So our mate Scott “Hornby” Nixon decides to end our pain and do something about it!
“Mate, can I have a go on that” Says a barley legible Nixon
“Um, well, Ok. But be careful” Yank (Irony abounds)
“Fuck this” Says Nixon – A perfect grenade lob into centre of pool. Queue cheering and clapping from crowd!
Highlight of my day? I think so! You can take the man out of Hornby?
So the 1st Bull run dawned, unlike our hapless heroes! Sorry but a few of the lads passed on the first bull run of the year for a bit more shut eye, seeing the fact we must have only just got to bed, only to be told to get up for 5am! But one overly keen Harbott lurched out of bed, pen, paper and stop watch in hand to get the good oil on the race, feeding the vital stats back to the lads for the next day.
Basically for those who are not familiar with the Running of the Bulls Tradition, here’s brief run down:
- Bulls x 9 (5 Angry + 4 mellow-ish) each weighing around 650-700kg
- Humans x 1000+ (mostly mad Spanish)
- 848m of Cobbled St (less than a few meters wide at some points)
- No visible exit for most of the length and where there might be hope, is an angry copper to smack you back in!
Being a man of great accuracy go here - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_running_of_the_bulls
So after the race we all went into town for a big night on the razz. All the Kiwis and Aussies flew into the night at pace. And the place was on fire, 200,000+ people had descended on Pamplona, with scant regard for rules or hygiene! My kind of place. The night had it all, classic sing along’s, cheap sangria, a mob lunching….hold that thought for a moment, let me elaborate. Pickpockets are rife, as rife as old mans beard was in the 90’s. All the tour had been effected, my Camera in Valencia, although I suspect 50% Thief, 50% drunken du Chateau. Anyhow, the Pamplona pickpocket was about as popular as Brad Butterworth at a Black Hearts convention. But we caught one, this poor twat decided his next target would be a Aussie chap, and was caught red handed. He had off loaded the camera to an accomplice and she had legged it up the road. Next thing Bullshit (JC) has this little Spaniard in a head lock and the crowd descend! This prick took more hits than the dart board at an RSA, the finishing move being head first at ramming speed into a nearby garage door. We got the camera back too! Haha! Tip for team pickpocket…..pick you target pal! An angry mob the Simpson’s would have been proud off.
About 2hrs previous the crowd witnessed a real special moment.
Harbott had come into town clutching his prized Mexican Wrestlers Mask!
What started as Him and Toks play fighting ended in titanic 3 way battle Royal with me included! Within 1min the crowd had swelled to well over 100 people watching the boys body slam, choke hold, leg drop, knee drop…all the drops, suplex’s all on concrete (Were Professionals, don’t do this at home kids)!
This ended after the duChats tagged in for Tokaroa and entered the ring, and after a brutal fight back getting quite a lesson in the art of back yard wrestling. Harbott finishing me off with a classic Boston Crab. The Drama, The Tension, The Skill, The Tragedy, The Crowd loved. We Loved it. Harbott smiled for the rest of the tour, a boy hood dream realised in the most unlikely of places!
But we had bigger fish to fry, Bulls that is. Not that shady town north of Levin, no my friend much much better! 2nd Running of the Bulls – 10 Bulls, 1 added to yesterday.
We got up around 5am to get into town and secure a good spot on the track for the 8am Rocket! Street sweepers were still cleaning as we headed to our spot. Then the 1 ½ hour wait, squeezed tighter than a speed skating suit. Remember half the people are still cut, some are puking. The wait was the worst part…….Then the Cops move and we are free to run, walk or wait for the Bulls. The Aim was to leg it around ‘Dead Mans’ corner for obvious reasons and wait there. Which we did…..Rocket 1 goes off…Bang….6 Bulls charge up.. about 300m back from us. Wait….Wait….Hundreds of lads are pouring past us at this stage, all looking over there shoulders. Harbott and myself attempt to wedge ourselves into a crack in the wall! Shitting bricks…waiting….is this a good place…what if? No idea…fuck….Tokaroa and JC have taken off up the track. More people….feels like a life time!
THEN……Bang, a bull comes flying into the hoardings at dead mans and were off, you can hear the sound of them on the cobbles….. a blur of bodies, people on the ground, jumped over them, have to keep moving! Bulls suddenly along side us, shoulder height!!! , but other side of track, nice choice lads…am screaming at top of lungs now! Loving it! At full pace after them, remembered 4 more still to come after these….bulls are fast….then they close a gate about 100m the track??? What, no idea what was going on…stretcher on the course, someone taken off….then gates open…..shit……Run….run….run….then suddenly more bulls…Fuck Fuck Fuck….no where to go…..pushing people out the way, smashing into them….then a opening in the track, gets a bit wider…..dive right…..as the heard trundles past…..big bastards…..then leg it again! Have to beat them into the ring or get shut out….but they to fast….get to top of track and big red doors are closing……not to unhappy….heart rate must have been close to 200! Lads all gather, except toks who made it in! Below is the actual race we were in. Long Vid, but worth it for the carnage at the end! We are around the corner from where the guy gets nailed into the boards at Dead Mans!
As you can see below, Tokaroa decided his best evasion tool was the unsightly strip of the East
Coast Bays Rugby team…..if only the Bulls had a tad less taste! Honestly it was like where’s Waldo, people spotting him through out the day. A better marketing ploy is hard to think off, Green and Black in a Red and white world! Either by Accident or design, it paid dividends as the big fella was noticed stumbling around town all day. Only returning to the Camp to regal us in tales of the day and what became compulsorily Bombs off the roof into the pool! Another interesting Tokaroa point is the fact he landed in Pamplona with no accomodation, deciding to back himself and find some when there. Seeing as the place was booked more solid than the Texas State Electric chair he was in for tough ask. But in usual style he arrived at the campsite with a new friend, Edwardo from Brazil! (You can't make this shit up) And had convinced his South American friend to share his small tent with him for 15 Euro per night! Also must be noted that Edwardo does not drink.....making surely the oddest of couples in Pamps. Edwardo even calling Toks his new husband...joking? not 100% sure.
Ed Note: Tokaroa has been entered into the ElderStateman Hall of Fame early, after a death-defying weekend. He Ran the Bulls 3 days straight, returning after one race with Bull Shit (Actual) on his hands, proving his proximity. Also leaped off the mussel bar statue, for those in the know…that’s madness. For those who don’t, it’s about 3-4m high leap onto some rather trusted strangers! LEGEND. When quizzed about his 3rd run of the bulls, he replied in typical Tokaroa fashion.
“Why would you run it 3 times Toks?” Crowd
“Well lads, it means I’m in credit for the next 3 years and has saved me 2 trips here!” Says Tokora. And you can’t argue with that sound logic.
We all left Pamps the following day. A truly amazing dam 5 days there. I would imagine it is an experience I will probably not relive in real life. But am sure as that I will be regaling future young du Chateau’s in my Pamplona experience. I'll also be able to sit with my Bother Tom and Uncle Phil and talk war stories.....Recommend anyone to head there. Just the best. One warning would be not to pack your favourite whites!
duChats
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