Read the Part Two HERE
To celebrate the fact that fiesta is rapidly coming down on us like a ton of bull, and also that the worst machine ever made since men lived in the caves of Altamira, (my computer) seems to be working okay after some ancient remedying, (if in doubt, give it a clout) I’m back with another article after 7 months.It’s just a piece of fluff and fun, really, but fun fiesta fluff to warm up my typing fingers, and this little A to Z of some of what makes up Pamplona’s extraordinary Fiesta of San Fermin actually contains, yes, the blindingly obvious but also some of those vital and varied things that makes it for 9 days and a thousand nights the greatest and most wonderful place on the planet. And yes, it is in many cases very much a personal list. 2nd part next month.
This article is also a sort of thanks to the people and the town who have made and changed my life for the immeasurably better. Only my parents have had a bigger influence in my life…but if people were places they’d be Pamplona. Thank you, gracias eta eskerrik asko, Pamploneses eta Irunshemes.
There are so, so many wonderful things, since it all began, through it’s evolution to now, the modern day, that go into making your town and your fiesta the unique and unparalleled event that it is. And although I could have put so much more into it this is just a wee snippet of some of what goes into making La Fiesta de San Fermin una fiesta sin igual. Okay, the rocket’s exploded and off we go.
SAN FERTHINGS Part One. A to L.
A stands for Awake, Aupa and Alegria. First of all, awake. Yes, really. James Michener in “The Drifters” wrote: “To be young, and in love, and in Pamplona in July is heaven itself.” Aupa that! What I mean is that if you’re awake, you’re alive, and if you’re lucky enough to be in Pamplona in fiesta…well done, you’re proof that humans can time travel as you’ve arrived on another planet. “Aupa” just means “up!” as in “Aupa Osasuna” (it’s the local football team.) One could also translate it as “Go Pamplona!” And “A” is also, most definitely, for “alegria” – happiness, merriment, joyfulness and no doubt just sheer “aupa-ness!” Alegria is also the name of one of the peñas…it sums it up and I rest my case.
B is for the blindingly obvious. Told you. It’s for “Bulls” of course, but also for “bar” and “borracho.” Whatever you think about it all, “B” is for bulls, and the bullfight and the bullring. When God and Mother Nature, and chance and breeding enabled these beautiful, brave and majestic animals to grace this earth, an amazing animal was born. What the stupidest animal on this magical planet of ours, (us human) does with the treasures we have been given is a topic for another day, and for people way more intelligent than me. There was fiesta before they introduced the bulls, of course…but oh my bhudda, with the evolution of the encierro, something unbelievable was unleashed that turned the fiesta into a phenomenon. And you don’t have to drink to have fun, but there is no doubt that the bars and alcohol play a huge part in the party…and so you may well find yourself getting borracho. Yup, you can work it out.
C is for Corrida and Chicas/os and Calimocho. (Just as “k” is for kalimotxo, too.) Corrida we did above – it’s the Spanish for bullfight. Chicas…oh my goodness, the girls…or if you are one…the chicos! Pamplona people are special. Now, for those who have never been or don’t know, calimotxo is a half and half mix of red wine and coke. Oh yes it is. It’s so popular that they often put the coke tap and the red wine tap side by side, so when it’s ordered it can be made in double quick time. We once saw in the Peña Irrintzi a bit of a panic going on behind the bar…the calimotxo machine had broken down! Where we have the emergency services and Oz has the Flying Doctors…Pamplona in fiesta has the Cali-medico. A call was made and the Mocho-man arrived pretty pronto and fixed it. Only in fiesta…If you want a classy calimocho you obviously mix a fine Rioja reserva with Pepsi.
They also have a drink called legumba/lemumba/lebumba, (I’ve never known how it’s spelt, even after 30 years,) but as I have a theory it was named after the Congolese independence leader Patrice Lumumba’s favourite tipple…I’m sticking with all of the above. It’s a mix of chocolate or vanilla milk with cognac. Honestly. These two drinks signify for me the wonderful mix of people, emotions, alegria and animals that is fiesta. And those “resacas sin igual!” (Trust me…learn the lingo…it opens up a whole new world.)
D is for Drink and for Drunks and for Drugs. There is so, so much more to the Fiesta of San Fermin than getting hammered, but one cannot deny that it is a huge international party and all that goes along with it. I was staggered my first year there that such a party could exist in this modern day and age…and also staggered at just how very little trouble there was. It was practically non-existent. There is one group of people whose behaviour is sadly beyond the pale, but generally speaking there is little trouble.
But D is also for dancing. And dancing and dancing…You can do a lot of dancing in fiesta! Whether you can dance a little, a lot, or like me, atrociously, fiesta is full of dancing and I love it. And whatever they may say about my awful, stilted, un-rhythmic and constipated looking style of dancing…I give not a jota! It’s mine and it’s copyrighted!
E is for Encierro, Encierrillo and Endrinas. Encierro we did above – it’s the Spanish for “bull run.” Enough said…except it is a stupendously stupid way to start the day…or end the night!…but it’s also the most joyous and exhilarating, exciting and life affirming thing I have ever done. But please remember, newbies…it can also end your life. It is maybe a game, to some…but it can kill you. The encierrillo…ah, lovely. It’s the night time run when the bulls are taken from the corral where they have been since their arrival in the city to the corral where they will be let out in the morning to run. It’s only a couple of hundred yards and it’s not open to runners, but it’s silent and dark and it’s beautiful. It’s the bulls last night on earth, a band of bovine brothers awaiting their destiny. But they don’t know it and I think it’s incredibly moving.
Endrinas. Yikes…beware! The local firewater is a spirit called pacharan/patxaran, and is an innocent looking beverage, being a lovely, red, fruity and invitingly smooth thirst-quenching looking liquid. But remember, it is like a red-headed beauty, (who is actually an assassin) combined with doing the bull run. It looks great fun, and it is…but it can kill! I don’t get hangovers, generally speaking, but if I’ve overdosed on pacharan, well, that’s when I get one of those above mentioned “resacas sin igual.” A hangover without equal…
F is “for” the blindingly obvious! Fiesta, fiesta, and friends. Not just “fiesta” but “Fiesta”…the other title of Ernest Hemingway’s seminal story that brought a small town in northern Spain to worldwide attention. And thanks to that, Michener wouldn’t have written “The Drifters” and I wouldn’t have gone to Pamplona and discovered the most amazing place and its fiesta and had the life I’ve had.
F is also for friends…they come and go, (at least in my case, it seems) but some stay forever. I have met the grandest gang of guys ever, the greatest gaggle (or should that be giggle?!) of girls ever, and generally the best and kindest and friendliest and loveliest human beings you could possibly meet. The complete opposite type go there too, but enough about me…If there is a collective noun for a group of “party” friends, it surely has to be “a fiesta of friends,” doesn’t it?
G is for Guiri, and Ganaderia and Gaita. Guiris…that’s us lot. Foreigners, strangers, outsiders…but my goodness you’d never know it, as Pamplona folk are just the most friendly and accommodating people you could imagine and they always, from my first day there as an idiot foreigner who didn’t have the fiesta clothes nor speak the language, made me feel welcome. What I did have…almost total, complete and utter ignorance…they tactfully ignored. Some people believe you can do and get away with anything in fiesta – this is rubbish – but you can party like crazy and you will be accepted and invited to some wonderful events. It’s like being ordained into a secret society…except it’s open to everyone and you don’t just watch it, you participate in it and become part of it and get engulfed in it. It’s a phenomenal feeling.
Without the ganaderias we wouldn’t have the toros bravos, the specially bred bulls. Again, any discussion, debate or argument about the whole thing is not for this article, but the ganaderias have to be mentioned in my lazy linguistical alphabetical adventure, for without them fiesta, and the very core of Spain itself, would be a very different thing. And gaitas? In fiesta you may hear the sounds of ancient days gone by…and I mean a very, very long time ago, maybe even 3000 years to be precise. The gaita is a type of bagpipe, and along with the txistularis, the flutes, these instruments and their players keep alive the sounds of the old days.
H is for House, Hotel and Horse. Having a place to stay in Pamplona is vital, once you get past your first few years of roughing it in the streets. It’s got to be done just for the experience and is a heck of a way to really immerse oneself in fiesta, but having a roof and a floor is a must now. And a loo, kitchen, shower…and kettle! When I first went back in 1984 we played and partied and drank and danced and kipped and crashed in the square, and our particular patch of grass, by the Bar Txoko gutter, we called “the house.” It was great then because we were new to things and had not a clue, and we stayed in “the house” the following year, too…but by ’86 we had a floor in a school on the Estafeta, and every year since then we found somewhere, until in ’93 we rented our first flat and I couldn’t imagine doing it any other way now. Most of us rent apartments now or stay in hotels, but for old times’ sake and to remember those original grass-encamped Gutter-dwellers from the old days, like Ike and Poul and Wolfie and Olaf, I still crash in the square a couple of times during fiesta.
Oh, and horse? If you ever see “potro” on the menu…
I is for Irrintzi, Immersion and Impekables. I mentioned how little I knew the first couple of years I went. Well, like many other fiesta virgins, I thought those clubs with the bands were fantastic, but I also thought their bars and clubhouses were private and non- members were not allowed in. Wrong! More about the peñas later, but for whatever reason the peña that I’m a part of and that I call for these articles The Lost Peña, (although it’s a peña that does not officially exist) goes to most is Irrintzi. I’m sorry, lo siento eta barkatu, Irrintzizaleak! But as with so many San Fermin things, it’s a heck of a way to immerse yourself in fiesta!
Immersion…this is one place where it doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from…if you want to join in, do so. Apart from the obvious things, (like don’t step into the ring to fight the bull) this is truly a fiesta that you can become a part of. The winning poster from 2011 was called “Immerse yourself in fiesta.” Whether one liked it or not, (and I did, it’s framed on my wall) the significance was perfect. It showed the worldwide recognised statuette figure of San Fermin dropped into water and literally, making a splash. It also looks like he’s inside a glass or encased in an ice cube. Also, very fitting!
Impekables. There are all sorts of acts going on in the squares and streets of Olde Iruña Town, and one of my favourite bands of all time was a Pamplona based band called Impekables. They have a different name now, Zopilotes Txirriaos, but they are as phenomenal as always and can be seen on the streets during fiesta, some of them, all of them, bringing their own brand of musical madness to the proceedings. And I love them to bits. They are superb and have had a couple of albums out now and play all over the country.
J is for Jarauta, Joder and Juerga! Ah, Jarauta, street of streets. There are streets of a thousand bars, roads paved with gold, boulevards of broken dreams and then there is the old and narrow Jarauta…it has all of the above plus fiesta, peñas, and hangovers, and heaven and hell all hemmed in by happiness. All the streets and squares are great and have something going for them, but Jarauta? Joder!
Juerga, pronounced “hoo-airga” just means binge, spree…yes, party. With a bit added…
K is for Kaixo, Kalimotxo and Kukuxumusu. If you’re abroad, there is no excuse not to learn a few words. They speak two languages in Pamplona, Spanish – and if you don’t learn the words for hello, goodbye, please and thank you, while you’re there, then shame on you – and Basque, or, in their language, Euskera. (You can pick it up pronto, or, in Euskera, laster, I think!) So here we go, the Basque for hello is kaixo, and goodbye is agur. Please is mesedez and thank you eskerrik asko. There…easy! All you need to know now is who is Spanish, who is Basque, who is both…oh, and who prefers to be neither, but Navarran instead. Oh dear…as a guiri, I almost never get involved, it’ll only end in tears…or beers!
Kukuxumusu. As with most things, some people like ‘em, some don’t. Personally I like them, and not just because I write for them. They started a quarter of a century ago, three students selling a t-shirt to fund their university studies, right where the original gang had first encamped in the gutter. Now they have shops around Spain, their designs are instantly recognisable around the world, and they must have without doubt the best San Fermin website out there. It’s this one you’re reading this piece from, sanfermin.com. They do so much, but it’s pointless me telling you…you’re already on the site! Go, as we Londoners say, (and it’s an apt phrase for a Pamplona topic)…go and have a butchers…(a look.) And Manu, it’s great to be back and thanks for all your help.
L is for Lunch, Locura and Little People. Spanish/Basque/Navarran lunches can be of epic proportions. If you get invited to a good one…go! (Same applies to dinner, too!) Any party can be a good party, and often things happen…but the 204 hours of fiesta that make up San Fermin is just a locura. A craziness, a madness and it is a joy to behold.
The Little People exist. Trust me. I have seen them, partied with them, eaten, drank and danced with them. One of them even came to visit me last year. Trust me, they exist!
That’s all for this bit for now, but Part Two should be along at the beginning of June. And now…for something completely different.
Every year many of us wait with bull-baited breath for the new fiesta poster to be chosen. The piece below is the original English version of something I sent in Spanish on Sunday afternoon, the 27th of April to the Diario de Navarra. But it wasn’t seen until Monday 28th, so I’m rather glad they found the time to read it, (change it!) and publish it for the edition of Tuesday 29th.
Because the 29th is the day they announced the winner of the poster competition, which is what my article was about. Due to a slight lack of space they had to cut it, (oh all right, I waffle on too much and bits of it needed to be culled!) and they also tamed the published piece a little, as I can be a little too…honest….at times!
It starts in Spanish because the original version for the paper began in English. If you’ve read the “A-Z” part above, hopefully you’ll understand what “guiri” means! Okay, see you next month, this guiri’s gone.
THE FIESTA POSTER.
A View From Guirilandia.
Hola y muy buenas, Pamplonicans. I’m from Guiriland, where the guiris live…but I’m also a Sanferminero. I live in London and have been lucky enough to go for 30 years straight to the biggest, best, most phenomenal and historical fiesta in the world. There are many foreigners who say they like your fiesta more than any of the others, but…do you want to know a secret? (Ssssh, and come closer.) It’s me, I believe, who loves it more than anyone.
And every year, since the new form of the poster competition, us lot in The Land of the Guiris, just like you, in the Land of the Lucky Ones, wait for the Fiesta Poster Competition. And we wait for the 8 finalists, and of course we can’t wait for the winner. In years gone by one of the things we most looked forward to on our arrival in Pamplona was seeing for the first time what the fiesta poster was like. Another greatly looked forward to thing was to hear for the first time what the big song of summer was, and hence fiesta. But that’s a whole other story.
But in this internet world we live in everything is live and immediate, and we can all have our opinion, instantly written with cruelty or humour for the whole world to see. I’m one of those who the last few years has written things when I’ve seen for the first time the 8 finalists, harsh things but also I hope funny things about the chosen 8 and the eventual winner.
Therefore, although I am not PTV, if I understand the phrase correctly, “Pamplonican For All my Life,” (Pamplones de Toda la Vida) maybe you’d allow me to comment, because at least inside my brain and the two cells that play there, I am without doubt PMV, “Pamplonican for Most of my Life.” (Pamplones de la Mayoria de mi Vida.) So because of this I hope you don’t mind if I give some thoughts about the fiesta poster. And I’m talking generally here – whatever poster, chosen or not.
Firstly, I understand that styles change over the years. When I see those earliest that survive, through to those of the 1980’s and 90’s, they have one thing above all else in common…colour. Since the beginning of this millennium…joder…I apologise to the artists but the majority are boring. Congratulations on making and entering and perhaps even winning this prestigious competition, because at least you have done something while people like me just moan, but…joder!
The Fiesta of San Fermin is something impossible to put into words, just like it has to be impossible to paint, but excuse me…an idiot could do better than some of the efforts we’ve seen amongst the finalists these last few years. (And the proof is, this idiot writing will try and enter next year’s competition.) And I write this as someone who has tried to put into print some aspects of the San Fermin fiesta, in a tale about your fiesta that is unrivalled anywhere on the planet. And I know it’s almost impossible.
It’s incredibly difficult to write something that captures the emotion, happiness, sound and colour of the fiesta, (and I know how difficult it can be as I’ve also written a few articles about fiesta,) with the mix of people, party, music, history, animals, and yes, potential tragedy, but a poster made up of two colours and a design that seems to signify nothing…oh, please! Think for a moment when you’re in a place and surrounded by a lot of posters advertising stuff…books, films, concerts, products…whatever.
Which are the ones that most people look at? Yes…I believe, generally, those that seem interesting. About things like art, music, books, etc, we say: “It’s a matter of taste.” So, that something like a favourite poster is, as they’d say in Spain, “un cuestion de gusto” I understand perfectly…we are all different, and I’m lucky that my own personal tastes are pretty eclectic. But when we are talking about posters for the most magical fiesta on the planet…again, please…can we not have just a little bit of colour? Of life, of emotion…of fiesta?
I wrote a little once of a man of Pamplona called Pedro Martin Balda. He was such a Pamplonican that he was born in the old town street of San Anton. When we look at his fiesta posters around the 1950’s and 60’s, they are a delight of colour and humour and action. (And not to mention the around 200 banners he did for the peñas…wow!) I could choose almost any poster from 1881, the year of the earliest surviving example, I believe, and almost all of them have something good about them. Since 2000…well, like I said, I know times and styles change, but for me they’ve changed for the worse.
It’s easy to be critical I know. But criticism doesn’t just have to be bad, it can be good, too, and this is all I’m doing. To be critical, but in an honest way and not to insult. When I wrote above that I thought an idiot could do better, I hope this was taken in the spirit it was meant. What wasn’t a joke was that this idiot who you’re reading right now has wanted to enter the competion, (and no doubt then have to dodge all the barbs thrown at him) for years and I hope to do so for 2015. I have two dreams in my life as a Sanferminero that I would love to achieve: win the poster competion, and fire the rocket at the Chupinazo, the starting ceremony. (Okay, okay, I’ve already said I’m an idiot. Maybe I’m also a dreamer, too…)
An awful lot depends on the judges who choose the 8 finalists. But if the 8 chosen this year are the best 8 out of over 500 – and I don’t believe it – then I think it’s almost certain I’ll try and enter next year’s competition. I’ve heard the judges explain why they chose these eight, (and half of these posters are just boring) and why they have explained that two of them aren’t copies from last year’s finalists…but…but…Okay, I’m just a foreigner and maybe I didn’t understand too well.
But I have to say something else, too. Someone has to be a little brave to make themselves available to be one of the judges, and we have to thank them. And while I’ll have to wait a year to see what they make of my effort, I already know exactly the design of my poster, and if it ends up more fracaso than Picasso, (learn the lingo!)…then I’ll accept that. But at the very least it won’t be something boring. And of course, if it was chosen to be among the final eight, then this hypocritical puta-guiri will rapidly change his opinion of the judges…I only need to find an artist to help me because one thing is for sure…I am no artist. A monkey could paint better than I do…blimey, a stupid monkey could paint better than me…
But here we are, the big day of the announcement. The final of the finals. And here I am waiting in Surbiton, the suburb of London where I live, amongst thousands and thousands of guiris the world over waiting to see who wins. And in spite of my words, I’d like to write one more thing, and this is to the artists. You’ve done a good thing and had the guts to play the game, and the enthusiasm to enter something for the competition. Honestly, well done folks, because, do you know something?
I believe that the winning poster normally, and bit by bit, also wins the liking and support of people who didn’t really like it at first. Like me. And would you like to know another thing? Maybe there are many people like me who would really like to not just take part in the competition…but actually win the thing, and that maybe some of the things you hear or read are done with just a little bit of jealousy.
Today isn’t one of the escalera days, but for people like me the unveiling of the winning fiesta poster is a super-special day. So good luck everyone. Ya falta menos! Viva San Fermin! Gora!
