Wow what a tour! I…read moream not much for touring sites. It was 6 euros. Just do it. It is fantastic, especially the videos that explain not so much the history of the plaza, but the mood, feeling, and excitement of it.

5.00+. The year was 2004. I issued a challenge to Bulletproof that simply could not be denied…read more "Dude, want to do the Running of the Bulls (El Encierro)?" And just like that, the seed to an amazing trip was planted. Of course, there were issues. My friends went to UEFA (Euro 2004) that year, and we were to meet in San Sebastian. After I arrived in Madrid, I realized that the shitty Spanish that I learned in Texas (which largely consisted of ordering agua, cerveza, and lengua and barbacoa tacos) was absolutely useless out here. Given that I had to find a bus to get me to San Sebastian (which would have never happened without the help of a lovely stranger from Zaragoza), it goes without saying that command of the Spanish language was necessary. Somehow, I managed to board the last bus to San Sebastian - and arrived a full eight hours after I was supposed to meet my friends. Fail. The evening devolved into helpless attempts to find lodging with four other Americans and our ability to withstand the futile attack of a French homeless man (whom I ended up buying breakfast). In the early morning, I managed to get to Pamplona well before 7 AM. I was ready in my white trousers, shirt, and very short red sash. A long crumbled newspaper roll was my only true distraction that I could offer to a charging bull. I had (perhaps stupidly) entrusted my belongings to some super hot New Zealand and Australian girls prior to the run. I hope to meet them back at Estafeta, but I almost don't care. I only care about life. Bulletproof is nowhere in sight. I hadn't meant to do this alone, but I'm not sure I've had this much of an adrenaline rush... EVER. I am voluntarily placing my own life in peril! My emotions runs rampant. I nervously speak to everyone I can that knows a modicum of English, and they give me advice: don't touch the bulls, some curve apparently is very dangerous, and be careful about slipping when I make it inside the Plaza de Toros de Pamplona (bullring). My whole body is trembling in anticipation that I barely can make out what they are saying. One by one, the rockets go off. I start running with the second rocket which signifies that all the bulls are out. I feel a burst of adrenaline as I sped off towards the bullring, towards safety, towards the end of this godforsaken race. My focus is singular; I dare not look behind me. I can see the entrance to the Plaza de Toros de Pamplona when suddenly, there is a great commotion. I see my first bull, and I wisely decide to run beside it. I'm so close to the entrance to the bullring, but I quickly learn what everyone was trying to warn me -- the curve at the entrance is indeed crowded. With the bull's help, I manage to steer myself into the ring with surprising ease. I have found myself into the bullring! HOLY SHIT!!! Twenty thousand screaming fans showering us with adulation! It is something unlike anything you have ever experienced unless you are a rock star. Whether they are cheering for you or the bull is none of your concern. You are just happy to be alive, and then you realize you must be quick on your feet because you see two bulls charging in your general direction from different angles! Fucking matadors! I do my best to avoid them and just like that, I fall and feel footsteps on top of me... The longest three seconds of my life were spent in the Plaza de Toros. Only though in my head? My neck is exposed; my next is exposed! I am absolutely petrified and simultaneously full of panic. Time freezes and I can hear every step and see every person in excruciatingly clear detail... No bull gores me. At this point, the heifers have been released and their horns are taped. I fall once again, and my survival instincts kick in again. I jump out of the ring. It's not the bravest move of my life, but it's the safest one at this point. Days later, my parents inform me that someone from Texas was injured. I learn secondhand that it was one of my friends who brazenly ran again after he exited the hospital with bruised ribs. I guess there is a reason they refer to us as "Borracheros." It's 2012 now. I've been lucky enough to conquer Class V whitewater waves, hang-gliding, caving, and skydiving during my time on this Earth. I'm no stranger to adrenaline pumping activities. El Encierro without a doubt is the most rewarding, challenging, and God-fearing of all of these activities. In fact, all of them combined do not amount to a second of that run. Outside of once achieving the blissful state of love, THIS IS THE GREATEST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFE. Singing on stage with Goldfinger? Incredible. Stepping foot on Bama's field? Amazing but no. Flying a plane? Super cool but give me El Encierro. This is beyond required for all adrenaline junkies; it's defining.