Feets Do Yo Stuff: Friday, July 10, Finisterra to Santiago

Friday, July 10, Finisterra to Santiago

Dave's voice

Today’s highlight: The Running of the Bulls in Pamplona. We watch this over AM coffee from Finisterra and it really is impressive, provided you only see clips of people being trampled. The way it works is, there are holding pens about a two minute gallop through city streets from the corrida, where the day’s bullfights are held. How to get the Bulls motivated? Hm, how about having the entire route packed with guys (and a few gals) in white outfits with red kerchiefs? Sounds good, what with the bulls being blood-thirsty killers and all. For the runners, most of whom wisely hug the sides of the street until the bulls have passed, this is prime bucket list territory and the TV countdown shows various of them stretching their quads, hamstrings and so forth beforehand. Highly recommended. All very serious. And, of course, no one wants to be gored. And, on TV, someone is always being gored or trampled. Not good. However, per our computer search, only 15 people have ever been killed during this dubious event and none since 2009. The challenges are two: 1) bulls, and 2) people pushing and shoving to avoid 1). Based on what we saw, most who fell were pushed by other runners. Occasionally, a bull would duck its head a little in a "hey, get outta my way" kind of gesture, but, mostly, this was cattle running from Point A to Point B in the company of a huge number of humans, a situation the bulls doubtless had never encountered before.

Not to diminish the (slight) potential for injury, but these are cattle, not hungry lions. Many of the ten or so bulls stay in a clump, so the potential for trouble is further diminished. Also, a number of thoughtful individuals get up close to the pens at the start so the animals would have to make spontaneous U-Turns to injure them. Good thinking. Then, with no realistic chance of catching up, these runners chase (well, appear to chase) the bulls.

At the other end of the spectrum are daredevils who run ahead of the charging animals, crossing in front of them if they can do so without being tripped by some other brave person attempting to do the same thing – or by a clumsy orthodontist from Des Moines. Touching the horns or even the bull’s back is good for bonus points as well, and does require courage and dexterity. Having said this – and having lived on a farm where one unpleasant bull was in residence – Pamplona is one of those manufactured events that seem more exciting and picturesque than it really is. Guys! It’s cattle! They’re running because the handlers at the pens have smacked them on the haunches! They’re (a little) unpredictable because of the human chaos around them.

And, of course, when they get to the corrida, they’re all slaughtered for entertainment.

Not sure about the economics of Pamplona. Runners have to be 18 and must own or purchase a white shirt, pants, and shoes and a red kerchief, though a few folks go with other apparel. Is there an entrance fee? Do they sign an injury waiver sheet? Dunno. The TV version showed ambulances hauling away the maimed, but I’d wager that most of them were tripped or trampled by other humans. The Running goes on for a week, suggesting that someone may have decided to set a "per day" limit on the number of humans involved to avoid a total logjam. After all, The Walking and Milling Around of the Bulls doesn’t have the same ring.

We go for a three mile stroll along the "Camino" before breakfast, eat, settle up, and carry our packs two miles into town for the 11:45 AM bus back to Santiago, there to wait, wait, wait at the dinky airport for our 10:35 PM flight (actual departure time 11:45 PM) to Malaga, the only such flight of the day. At first, the place is deserted and so bereft of things to do that we opt for the 18€ "Galician-style" steak, the secret recipe being a salt crust and a pool of melted butter underneath. Oh, and tough. Later, after we’re so chair-weary and bored that we’re starting to think about another Galician steak, the place fills up. A lot of Caminars with their backpacks and bandaged knees. It’s a little like a small town airport after a marathon, with the wounded – and the triumphant - ambling – or hobbling - about with an aura of shared experience. Buen Camino.

Deb

Just a picture or two from our bus ride back to Santiago since airport photos aren't the most interesting, and I didn't take any. The bus ride from Santiago to Finisterre was fine, but coming back, we sat on the upper level for better views. Not sure if the views were better but I got sick to my stomach for almost the whole way. Not sure whether being higher up did it (the road is very winding hugging the coast for much of the trip and up and down once you get inland closer to Santiago - Carol, think Amalfi Coast except not as high) or maybe the cookies that I was munching. After another bus ride to the airport from the Santiago bus terminal, and resting a bit at the airport, I was ok. As Dave said, a long day, mostly spent at the airport. We'd have gladly paid extra for an earlier flight - if there had been one. Finally got to our Malaga hotel at 2:00 am, and slept like The Dead. Today...relaxation and some sights of Malaga, but mostly the relaxing part! May try and see if Wimbleton is on TV (Women's finals)...just might be since a Spaniard is playing.