Ten thousand drunken aussies and twelve angry bulls

Quick post, lots yet to come, but I feel I should add something.

This morning we (Jeremy, Nick and I) ran with the bulls in Pamplona.

Everybody we asked had different stories. When it starts, where to be, what happens. About the only thing everyone agreed on was that if you try to leave the course, the police beat you with batons and throw you back in. No kidding.

Earlier, a yankee girl had her camera grabbed from her by a random guy, she tried to get it back, he belted her over the head, leaving a massive cut, and splattering blood on the pavement. Then he arrested her for assaulting a police officer (he was an undercover cop). The cops here are scary! We met her after she had been released and was walking around where it happened in a state of shock trying to find a necklace.

Impressions of the bull run:

1. Panicking people are scary, more so than bulls. Especially when they are drunk.
   
2. Bulls are huge and faaaaast!. Like a car. Before you know it, they are past you.
3. They herd you into the bull ring, where a little steer completely nails heaps of people, we climbed up the fence and watched it hanging from the stands.
4. There are shitloads of aussies here. Definitely the second highest contingent, after spaniards.
   
5. Pamplona smells like one giant portaloo. Jo and Tori saw someone taking a crap in the street.
6. We have no accomodation, and have been sleeping on a roundabout at a busy intersection. Not too bad, considering.

Trying to figure out if we can duck over the pyranees to watch the world cup final in the south of france, before heading to Barcelona for a few days with GD Steve.

Funny stories from San Sebastian to come, but the bull run took priority. Lots of photos to come. Maybe from Austria, maybe not till I get back to Sweden.