We arrived just in time for the final stretch of the San Fermin Festival aka the Running of the Bulls, and we’re therefore diving headfirst into the vibrant chaos of Pamplona during this festival —
To get here, I redeemed 90k miles for Business Class on LOT Airlines beginning at JFK airport to board its nightly flight out to Warsaw on their wet-leased Euroatlantic Airways 777-200ER planes. This ticket also gets you access in the last remaining days of the T7 lounge before JFK’s major renovation.
The wet least allows a LOT business class passenger to enjoy the 1-2-1 configuration on Euroatlantic’s fleet (aka the old Alitalia planes) instead of LOT’s typical 2-2-2 configuration.
I was able to quickly sleep after take off for about 4-5 hours before asking for a later start to their meal service. They obliged!
After 5 hours at Warsaw’s Chopin airport, I boarded a 2 hour Brussels Airlines flight to Brussels with nobody sitting with me.
The next day I continued onwards on a flight to Barcelona, meeting up with Raubern there where we coffee’d and ate our way through the town. David, Yuhan, Sandy, and Varun all congregated with me as I finally learned from my mistakes and figured out how to eat at La Xampanyet without a local helping me this time:
14 years ago on my first official group monsoon, someone said here “why is this good SO GOOD?” and “this was the best meal of my life” (left).
And 14 years later (right), those statements still reverberate across the very same walls:
Later that night, I got to catch up with Gabriela again on her new terrace in the Sagrada Familia district. She’s a blast from the past from 11 years ago; we last saw each other in Barcelona 9 years ago pre-pandemic!.
Have we aged?
The next morning, taking a bus up from Barcelona to Pamplona, Raubern and I rendezvous’ed with Kane, Ainsley, Nishant, and Kenny at our apartment rental ANAMAR (which we booked 5 months in advance) just in time to catch the festival’s closing ceremony and the last run of the bulls.
We arrive in Pamplona to find the city still buzzing with festivities. The streets are stained with the remnants of sangria and packed with revelers decked out in white and red. With only two days to explore, we waste no time donning our white and red, buying handkerchiefs and sashes at the corner and hustlers all over the town before joining the celebration.
Our afternoon begins with a walk through the city’s bustling plazas before heading towards the Plaza del Castillo and having a lunch at famed Café Iruña, known for being one of Hemingway’s favorite haunts, and it’s easy to see why; its charming decor and rich history make it a must-visit.
If you didn’t know by now, Pamplona is is where Hemingway came up with the premise for The Sun Also Rises; by the corner you can find a statue of him!
Fun fact, Café Iruña is also where electric light was first used in Pamplona.
Outside the café, Plaza del Castillo is known as Pamplona’s “living room.” During the festival, the square becomes alive with music and performances.
After lunch we began our walking tour, beginning at where the running of the bulls start along the Calle de Santo Domingo.
Bulls are kept here:
And the runners start here:
Two rockets are fired; one for the first bull out, and the second for the last bull to leave the pen. If you start here, then your goal is to run up the hill along Calle de Santo Domingo, past City Hall on your left . . .
. . . to arrive into Plaza Consistorial, where you turn around Dead Man’s Curve or Hamburger Wall (this is the switchback style 90º angle where the bulls sometimes collide into the wall as they turn. This is where Raubern, Nishant, Kenny, and I started.
After the turn, you run down the longest street along Calle de la Estafeta:
. . . finally arriving after a 4-5 minute dash into the 1920s-built bullfighting ring Plaza de Toros:
From the bull ring and sticking along the east side and walking towards the Arga River, we stopped at the old City Walls and Fortín de San Bartolomé. Its museum offers a glimpse into the evolution of Pamplona’s fortifications over the centuries.
Hugging the river and walking north in Viejo de la Calle Vergel Park, we passed by the Catedral de Santa María la Real y Museo Diocesano.
Note its Neoclassical façade designed by Ventura Rodríguez:
We then turned once reaching the outdoor festivities amongst the gardens at Rincón del Caballo Blanco: a medieval bar perched on the city’s walls near the cathedral. Its terrace offers sweeping views of the river and the city below.
We then sauntered by the San Saturnino church from the 13th-century featuring 2 towers, one with an iconic rooster-shaped weather vane.
Museo de Navarra is just north of San Santurino: Located within a 16th-century hospital, this museum boasts a collection of Roman artifacts, Gothic and Renaissance art and a Goya portrait. It’s a deep dive into the artistic evolution of the region.
On the southwest part of Pamplona and a 20 minute walk away, we came upon Ciudadela (Citadel). Built in a pentagonal shape under King Philip II’s rule, this Renaissance fortification is well-preserved. Surrounded by a sprawling park, the citadel is closed during the festival for the nightly fireworks display.
It then began to thunderstorm as we walked the perimeter of the citadel (which wearing white may not be the most comfortable choice in that scenario) towards Parque de la Taconera, the city’s oldest park that offers a tranquil respite from the city’s clamor.
Its French-style gardens, mini-zoo, and cozy café would have provided the perfect setting for an afternoon break if it weren’t for a rainstorm.
We then returned back into old town passing by Saint Nicholas Church and its gothic facade and bell tower:
Running of the Bulls
…or, as I now compare it, Running for Office. I woke up this morning at 6:40am in Pamplona thinking I’d watch a 700-year-old tradition from the safety of a balcony. I’d been telling everyone I wasn’t planning to run. Definitely not with a missing kidney, or exactly one year post-cancer. Not when I feel like I have nothing else to prove.
But even Mel was surprised: “You’re not? What? Isn’t that the whole point?” Having Nishant also say the same thing: “I signed up for this trip just to do it!” and Raubern and Kenny not pushing back… well…the pressure was on.
Side note: this is Nishant’s, Raubern’s and my first time wearing all white together since Sardinia!
An hour later, there I was, sprinting down Calle Estafeta like something possessed had nudged me off the edge of reason and straight into the chaos.
There are actual rules for first-timers:
- Don’t start near Dead Man’s Corner.
- Don’t veer left down Calle Estafeta; that’s where the bulls naturally lean after the turn.
- If you fall, stay down. Fetal position. Don’t get up.
And I broke every one of them.
Not out of defiance, but adrenaline; that old trickster that hijacks your body and rewrites your story. I hadn’t realized I was already on Dead Man’s Corner when I started running. As I sprinted through the narrowing cobblestone path, I leaned on the backs of those in front of me who seemed to slow, not fully aware they also saw the bulls behind us. The moment they tripped and fell in front of me, momentum also took me down. Elbow, knees, ankle, knuckles, and toes (one by one as if they were a song lyric). One foot away from seeing horns tearing through flesh. But somehow, I got back up. And speed walk-limped my way to the ring.
It’s funny—I didn’t expect there to be footage. I didn’t want it. That felt like tempting fate. But Sandy and Yuhan caught the whole thing from their balconies. I watch the clip and still can’t quite believe it happened.
Once in the ring, you can stay behind on the sand for them to let out one bull at a time while you try to still dodge them, if your adrenaline hasn’t given up on you yet. This is me telling Kenny mid-pose (notice the facial expressions of everyone behind me as I’m saying this):
I stuck around for a few more minutes enjoying the festivities, but when they let out a second bull I felt that with my sprained ankle I was already pushing my luck. I quickly hopped over a barricade where staff then immediately make you exit the arena entirely.
I then limped to the nearby Coffing Coffee House to check how badly I was wounded: 4th and 5th digit right knuckles, ulnar-lateral left hand, bilateral knee abrasions, and 2 left ankle contusion/abrasions from being trampled on by a 700kg / 1543 lbs. bull they always save as the heaviest for the last day of the festival every year. A fair karmic balancing for a lesson this old.
The rest of the monsooners joined me afterwards to decompress the thrill from our bodies as we felt the comedown. Sandy and Yuhan even picked up a fellow American, Brandon, from their balcony to join us!
Maybe I’m more surprised by how everyone else expected me to do it. How even my wife assumed I would. How sometimes the expectations of others reveal parts of yourself you didn’t know you were still negotiating with. I’m not sure if it was courage, foolishness, or something in between, but I kinda get it why people do this every year. There’s something ancient, irrational, and deeply human about choosing to run into something you could just as easily watch.
Final day of San Fermín. First monsoon since the campaign. Still down one kidney. Still standing.
Last Night of the Festival
By 2:15pm, Mimi made a quick detour from her own private trip through San Sebastián to Pamplona to join us for the closing ceremonies of the festival. We gave her another quick tour of the town after she settled in on our couch, and introduced her to both new and old monsooner friends.
As night fell, we went for dinner at La Huerta de Chicha — an accidental find that luckily is the only really good place that had enough seating for a large group during the festival — and then joined the crowds for the closing ceremony beginning at 11:00pm at La Vuelta del Castillo. There, an annual fireworks competition light up the sky in a dazzling 15 minute display at 11:00pm every night.
There’s a bittersweetness to the air as revelers both celebrate and mourn the end of another San Fermin.
After the fireworks, we walked over another 15 minutes to the official closing ceremony in Plaza Consistorial right in front of our lodgings. At 11:50pm the mayor steps out to thank everyone for attending, tells all of us to come back next year, and then everyone else takes off their red bandanas while singing to “Pobre de Mi” as fireworks goes off in the background.
One final group photo in our apartment!
The following morning, we said “see you soon” to Mimi (she’s joining us next week again for Tomorrowland), packed our bags and made our way out of Pamplona, leaving behind its echoes of music, celebration, and centuries of history.
- At time of posting in Pamplona, it was 31 °C - Humidity: 80% | Wind Speed: 6km/hr | Cloud Cover: sunny and hot
