Around the Bluhmin’ Town

By

Judy Bluhm

What’s happening in the world? Okay, better not to wonder. Because a whole lot of “bull---t” is going on. Oops, I meant to say “bulls.” Maybe we should all take a vacation and head to Spain. Because right now might be a perfect time to “run with the bulls.”

Need a thrill? Head to Pamplona, Spain and join in on the 400-year old tradition that will be held next week. It is the San Fermin Festival. Now is the time to don a white shirt and trousers, with a red scarf and waistband. Sure, so we can have the pleasure of running (for our lives) from a herd of bulls! What could go wrong? Yes, once again, it is the “Running of the Bulls,” or encierro, as they call it in Pamplona.

Just before the bulls are let loose, the crowds sing a benediction twice as a prayer of safety. Then the ritual begins with a rocket being sent off at 8:00 in the morning, to let the hundreds of runners (fools) know that the six bulls, six steers and three oxen are being let out of their pens. Narrow and winding streets that go for 903 yards are the full extent of the “run,” with the bulls clocking along at an average speed of fifteen miles per hour.

Are we having fun yet? Oh, did I mention that about three-hundred folks have been injured and another dozen killed over the years? The only “weapon” that the runner has is a rolled-up morning newspaper that they are allowed to swat a bull, if he gets too close. I think that this esteemed newspaper might work great, rolled- up as a potential weapon against all manner of dangerous animals. Ha! Well, I don’t think that a newspaper is enough protection for me if I were trying to fight off a raging bull. Get me a gun! (Sorry, not allowed).

The event in Pamplona is said to have two rules: you must be sober and at least eighteen years old. It seems that the first rule is often broken. Some runners claim that a little vino goes a long way as you await the sound of the rocket and the clank of the gates opening. I can completely understand. Come to think of it, would sober people really race through cobblestone streets in front of a herd of menacing bulls, with red sashes tantalizing the beasts to run faster?

These adventure-seeking, adrenaline-hungry runners are called “mozos.” And there is one more “rule.” If you fall, experienced mozos say just curl up and stay on the ground. Better to be trampled by six bulls than gored by one.

Let’s do this! No experience is required, although being able to run faster than fifteen miles per hour seems like it would help. Wearing white clothes with red scarves is not necessary but would make it ever so much more authentic. Oh, only sober people are supposed to run. Now that sounds like a lot of bull! Still, we might as well “prepare” with a little Sangria . . . and be armed with this fine newspaper.

Judy Bluhm is a writer and a local realtor. Contact Judy at [email protected]or visit www.aroudnthebluhmintown.com.