Running with the Bulls

Whew, what a weekend it was. Both Saturday and Sunday provided lots of fun, great experiences, and cool pictures so I will split them up into two different entries.

As I mentioned in my last entry, I went with a large group of both international and Mexican students to the Huamantlada festival on Saturday. Except for my homestay mother and oracle of all things Mexican telling me people die every year running with the bulls so don’t you dare go out there in that street, I really had no idea what to expect when we arrived at around 9AM.

Please excuse the glasses, it was a ridiculous festival and called for ridiculous eye wear and the cup with my morning coffee in it of course.

The bulls didn’t get released until noon so we had a look around. Still not having run or climbed much of anything since March with the bad knee, I had made up my mind, but my friends were on the fence about whether to do the once in the life time thing and run with the bulls for a bit or to stay safely (or so we were told) behind the walls. The consensus really shifted to the latter when we came upon our first “box”

A quick calculation for the American readers: 490 kgs x 2.205 lbs/kg = 1078 lbs

After seeing that we decided we had better secure a safe place from which to watch. The city sections its center off into 6 zones with 4 “boxes” per section. A wall is built on either side of every street and then each building (house, store, bar, restaurant) can build bleachers between their building and the wall or sell space on their roof. We decided on a very tall building that was offering their roof and a seat on their bleachers (behind a wall) for about 8$.

After hanging out up there for about an hour and watching people pack into every available nook and cranny on our street, a buzz started and then a chant of mueran gringo (die American but from what I was told, not because they wanted to see a dead American as much as because they wanted to see some action a la Gladiator style) ensued and I looked down to see two of my friends (1 Australian and 1 American) on the streets ready to run. My other Australian friend, Dan and a guy from Canada then took off and next thing you know there are 4 white guys in the street. The place went absolutely nuts and then after a series of 3 fire works went off, the box doors were lifted and out charged the bulls.

They were released at different locations on the street so initially there was a bit of a crossfire but then they found each other and started charging up and down together.

People of varying degrees of braveness were out there with them (initially about 40) and some acted like matadors, some would run right in front, some would kneel as they charged until the last second, and some would clear out whenever they got in the same zip code. Regardless, every time they looked at a person and started moving, no matter how valiant they were, that person sprinted for the wall and climbed as high as they could.

It was crazy because some would climb to the top of the wall where the bull couldn’t get them but as more and more people entered the street there was no more space when they made a pass so people would just move to the side and pray. Unfortunately it becomes a game of chance at this point and the bulls were neither intelligent nor happy creatures so some people got pummeled while clinging to the lower part of the wall (for the entire festival 1 died and 12 were taken to the hospital with serious injuries).

After about 30 minutes I deemed the bulls tired enough and there to be enough other people in the street that my chances of death or severe maiming were below the acceptable level so I ventured out there. I was able to get a friend to take a couple pictures and also got some of the bulls from ground level. Fortunately I had chosen that morning to wear red shorts, always thinking ahead.

When I got out there they were at the other end of the street, but wouldn’t you know it they found a second wind and came zooming past. I started running up the street then hopped on a fence with a bunch of other people. Unfortunately this was not the wall of the people I had paid earlier so there was a lot of pinching and pushing of my ankles, but it was going to take a lot more than that to get me off of there.

Talk about an adrenaline rush. I stayed out for a couple more passes and each time was just as exhilarating because you know it is not likely, but there is absolutely no telling what those animals and their 1,000 pound bodies will do and where they will charge.

After about 10 minutes I returned to the bleachers and watched the rest of the show from about as close as a safe distance can be. After 2 hours the bulls were rounded up and everyone piled into the streets.

We started walking to a restaurant as a group when all of a sudden there was a swarm of people who wanted a picture with me and Dan. It was pretty crazy, but apparently we looked very foreign and in outfits like these I can’t imagine why. Apparently they don’t see much of that in Huamantla and it created quite the attraction. In addition several of the girls wanted kisses and the like and it just got to be a bit embarrassing.

After lunner (lunch + dinner which is called the comida down here), we headed to a fair which was in town, then took a walk around to see the rest of the city. Very nice and very similar in layout to the others we have seen with the Zocalo in the center including a park surrounded by churches and shops. My friend Dan and I managed to pick up a red bandana and a red shirt for under 4$ to complete my walking tomato look then got someone to snap this gem.

At 7 PM we hopped back on the bus and I managed to convince a girl named Elsa that goes to UDLA to sit with me and give me a Spanish lesson for the 2 hour ride home. She innocently agreed and I now feel much more confident in my language skills.

All in all it was one of the wildest things I have ever seen or done. It is not necessarily an experience I am dying to repeat, but certainly one I can tell to Elsa's and my grandchildren.