¨Fire bulls¨ in the Aragonese Pyrenees

Now that I'm settled into another school year teaching English in Galicia, I've mustered the willingness to recap some summer and pre-summer fun. This year's vacation destination (aside from a rejuvenating trip home for a few weeks) was the Pyrenees. We spent a week in awe of these mountains and the scenery it created, as well as the centuries-old architecture typical of the region. We stayed on the Spanish side, between the regions of Aragon and Catalunya.

During our first day in the Pyrenees, we went to Canfranc-- a little village with a massive train station. Abandoned train station, that is. It was used to welcome the many immigrants coming from France (and from the rest of Europe) with style. Nowadays, you can't go in or even cross the train tracks. They do have thematic nighttime visits we were unable to attend. Maybe next year!

The first night within the Pyrenees, we stayed at a campground nestled on the side of a hill full of green trees. It had a pool, too, with million dollar views. I thought it was lovely, but later on would realize that there were bigger and more beautiful mountains to be seen. By serendipity, the nearby town of Biescas was having their annual town fair. The main event: Toros de fuego (fire bulls). There were signs around the town warning festivalgoers that they participated at their own risk. Closed toe shoes required. Protective headgear and glasses required. In my head I had already begun to imagine insane (and inhumane!) Spanish ¨festivities¨ involving lighting a poor bull's horns on fire and setting him loose as the crowd does an even wilder running of the bulls. Not my idea of a fun night on vacation.

Fire bull with bullfighter to boot!

Our brief stroll through town brought us to an open plaza full of people just standing around. Chatting. Waiting. I had seen on the schedule that the kiddie fire bulls were about to start. And suddenly, an announcement and out came a man jogging with a barbecue barrel on his head. It was meant to look like a bull, and aside from the sparklers sticking out from its horns, it also dropped firecrackers that went whirring through the air in circles as they ended in cracking explosions. A handful more of these ¨bulls¨ came out, families dodging their sparklers. Since we were in the plaza, we also took to dodging the jogging fire bulls. I screamed every time they got close.

While the kiddie hour was exhilarating enough for me, I imagined the ¨real deal¨ at 1 AM could get ugly. Surely they had used people dressed as bulls so that the earlier run was family-friendly. I wanted to pass on the event, but also felt a morbid curiosity as to what it would be like. We had dinner and some drinks to kill time. At 1 we were in the plaza again. I wasn't convinced that I wanted to participate. My partner, on the other hand, had got sunglasses from the car (as per the warning signs) and was ready to roll. As I looked around the plaza, I noticed that there were a lot of teenagers around. And equally as many drunk people who I feared didn't stand a chance. They would fall and be trampled! Then, some motion in the corner of the plaza. I ducked over to a stone staircase where plenty of people were hiding from harm's way. Yet once again-- to my delight-- there were no real bulls, just people running around with big barbecue barrels over their heads, spewing out flying fireworks.


What a blast! Running, dodging, taunting! At one point I ran with a group of people down a street, which was partially blocked off from the fire bulls. When I turned to go back to the action, another bull came barreling past, so I ducked behind some of the wall that made a little corner.  Once on the ground, the firecrackers that came flying off the bulls snaked around incessantly for a few minutes. Of course, one of the firecrackers got stuck in my little corner, near my feet. I freaked out and scampered away. Back in the main plaza, there were probably a dozen fire bulls at once, coming from all directions. We must have been at it for an hour, but it didn't seem that long. Time flies when you're having fun...dodging firecrackers from people dressed as bulls in tiny towns in the Pyrenees.