The Sun Also Rises

I was 19. We are all fearless at 19. I had spent a few months in Paris studying and had arranged to meet up with my brother, father & some friends to head to Pamplona. We took the train as far as San Sebastian, Basque, Spain and then we had to take a rocky bus ride another hour to reach Pamplona. Here I was, living out one of my favorite novels. I was the ex-patriot now, living wild adventures and not waiting for things to happen. I finally felt alive.

There were no hotels or hostels left in Pamplona, so we took turns sleeping at a table in a little cafe off the street which the bulls would run down in the morning. I slept little and the chubby, stoic owner kept making us buy a coffee every hour or so. We drank all afternoon (got "tight" a la Hemingway) and then were miserably forced back into sobriety by strong cups of bitter coffee that we were being charged too much for.

Upon rising early the next morning, I desperately wished I was back in San Sebastian, with it's clear blue waters and comfy feather beds. Outside of my daydreams, in the very real Pamplona, the bulls began to run in waves. I strapped down my chest and put on a baseball cap to blend in (there were other women running, but it still appeared to be frowned upon by the locals). I was a person or two behind my brother and all I could think was that my parents could be childless in only a few minutes time.

I admit, I am a coward. I probably ran only 2/3 of the way down the cobblestone street toward the arena, where the bulls end their run, before jumping up onto the wooden slatted fence along the street. My brother (fearless or stupid, I don't know which) ran all the way into the arena. He was bumped and knocked about by several bulls & afterwards he had black bruises down one entire side of his body. He did not emerge from the arena for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only a matter of minutes. I feared the worst (I usually do) but he triumphantly survived and would not let us forget it.

Ah, the foolishness of youth. Over 20 people were gored that running season. It was lovely to pretend we were part of that lost generation, but pretending can get you killed.

Would I do it again? Surprisingly, yes. I probably would. I'm a lot less scared now, but obviously just as foolish...