#ontiniete

Every year the normally fairly well behaved city of Ontinyent descends into turmoil. This weekend (which has four days in Spain) was the annual  ‘running of the bulls’ or “Encierro” in Ontinyent, something we had never been around for before.

We were warned by several expat English families who were leaving town for the four days (which should have told us something), that people were actually telling the truth. It’s a three day bender, a party in the streets and everyone is invited! It seems an odd prospect to me, perhaps because I’m British, that once a year I should drink till I cannot see (normally by breakfast) with my fellow townsfolk, then try to avoid a two tonne monster of a bull running straight for you. Couple that with the indefinite behavior of the 3000 people around you, you are sure to be in for an emotional time. Interestingly, from this year 16 year old children could run – perhaps how they control the local population.

We had not planned to get involved in the bull run this year. It just sort of happened. We had been visiting friends early afternoon whilst my parents and sister went into town to see what was happening. We had been the day before and watched the ‘dressing of the bull’. A peculiar ceremony – they unload the bull from the back of a wagon and put what can only be described as ‘tea-cozys with balls on’ on the bulls horns. Who said Spain had no health and safety?

We knew the route the bulls took and having arrived back in town after what we thought was the last run of the day, we decided to walk it. Our first clue should have been the amount of people that were still there. But this is Spain and I thought nothing of it. The entrance to the house where the bulls were kept over-night was open and people were flooding in to get a glimpse at the beasts. Thirty men in the corner smoking cigars watching the re-runs on the TV shouting loudly every time some poor bugger was tossed into the air. Which happened quite a lot actually, however these people are heroes to their friends, assuming they survive.

We realised as we had turned the corner towards the old town bridge that we had made quite a serious error, when faced with ten or so teenage boys between us, a bull, and the bridge. Of course the bull immediately turned round and headed towards us. We did not have to think too long about what we were going to do about the situation. We turned and ran. I assured Emma all would be fine as long as she ran faster than the child behind her, which she did with ease. These new running classes are starting to pay off. With the bull then turning and running off in the opposite direction towards another crowd of people, we took our chance and ran over the tiny bridge behind it.

We had finally made it into the old town and were heading straight for my parents. So was the bull however. Everything happened so quickly. We were not prepared for this. I had just eaten some crisps, had two beers and can’t run at the best of times. Again it didn’t matter, all I had to do was beat yesterdays front runner, which rendered no problem (the guy with crutches).

I never imagined I would turn the corner and see my dad in the middle of the square squealing and giggling like a little girl. Waving and beckoning us over, he soon spotted the bull between him and us and we faintly heard “I nearly touched it”  as he and his man bag bolted away with the crowd.

All very exciting stuff.

The general process as we saw it involved 3 bulls. Each one was released in turn from El Corral (the bull’s pen) to run for around an hour.  The route was contained using huge barricades to block off any exits or entrances e.g where roads would usually join the route. Shops, bars and a few homes had what can only be described as prison bars installed in doorways. These allowed people (sometimes) to squeeze through should they need to find safety but of course acted as a barrier against the bull should he decide to follow you. There were viewing platforms, chock-a-block balconies and even a few people who had climbed and perched on the side of walls. Dotted along the road were cells, again the bars were for protection but due to many opting for a front row seat, when you needed to jump into the cage, it was often the wall of people in your way that posed the greatest danger. There were a group of people wearing blue and white with PORTADOR written across their backs. These individuals hold an extremely long piece of rope which was attached  on one end to the bull’s horn, we believe they acted as the bearers or guiders of the bull.

Pamplona remains the most famous location for Bull running with the festival of Santfermines spanning 8 days of July and each run involving 6 bulls and lasting around 3-4 minutes as opposed to an hour in Ontinyent. With the number of towns across Spain holding a run rising to around 16,00, the event has no doubt become more of a tourist attraction rather than a traditional, religious or “born from need” occurrence. Tradition suggests that men would speed up the process of moving bulls from outside the city to the bull ring or market place by running them to speed up the process. This of course soon became an opportunity for people to show bravado and to compete amongst themselves. The event now draws people from across the globe, most of whom are unaware of the physical exertion expelled by both participants and the bulls. It is possibly due to this lack of knowledge, awareness and the need to capture the moment that has increased the number of injuries and fatalities. At least 10 were reported dead this summer alone due to goring at various bull runs across Spain. It seems strange however I assure you, many would stand in the middle of the route, looking at their previous recordings on cameras and phones, forgetting their continued proximity to an animal that can kill. Stampedes of people rushing past or sending you to the ground should also not be underestimated.

Now I would not say I support bull running, I certainly do not support bull fighting, however the feeling that floods through your body when being chased by a very real threat is one we have never felt before. Your whole body tingles, almost as if certain it knows you are about to die. I can certainly see why people like it. It’s like an adrenaline rush but ten times as powerful. Pretty in-describable actually. However I doubt I will do it again. I think the animal is pretty stressed out by the whole ordeal and i’m fairly sure it is not a fan of having tea-cozys on its head.

Be sure to check out this video Emma managed to shoot whilst being chased by a bull. Sure to amuse you all!