Stepping cautiously through treacherous terrain–vomit and tens of thousands of broken bottles–crossing raging rivers of sangría in the streets, and making sure not to provoke the local wildlife…the Festival of San Fermín was almost like a safari.

Last weekend I took a train to Pamplona to stay there Friday and Saturday nights, leaving Sunday afternoon. I would say that the Running of the Bulls is something I don’t necessarily approve of, but at the same time something I had to see. From what I heard from other students and witnessed for myself, the run can be as dangerous as you want to make it; some people hear the first boom that indicates the bulls have been released and run straight for the arena without ever really being in harm’s way, while others try to get as close to the bulls as possible. A short jaunt in front of some pissed…