A blog entry cannot completely express my experience in Granada, Nicaragua, and the 2009 Tour de Toros (Bull Run).
After months of travel and a wide expanse of landscapes and experiences, some of the ordinary tourist/backpacker attractions begin to lack luster. I find myself seeking a bigger mountain, a bluer sea, whiter sand – searching for the thing that defines a place, etches it in your memory.
The 2009 Tour de Toros
By pure chance, I was in town for the annual Bull Run. Some backpackers heard news of the festivities and word spread through several hostels, generating a sizable gringo turn-out. The mankini (see previous blog and/or www.internationalmankinichallenge.com) almost reared its ugly head but another traveler wearing a far more modest lion costume was quickly reprimanded by the Nicaraguan police, rendering the photo shoot a far too risky endeavor. We also quickly gathered that this wasn’t an ordinary 5K fun-run, but a much more raw untouched part of Nicaraguan culture.
The Bull Run, most popular and infamous in Pamploma, Spain, is an event in which several bulls are unleashed into the city streets. The streets are gated as a safety precaution, prohibiting spectators from entering the streets. In Granada, the experience was much different. At 3pm, expectantly, large cattle trucks opened their gates, releasing bulls into the unprotected city streets. Men on horseback swarmed the bulls, tethering them, only to then re-release them into the masses of spectators – women, kids, elderly who all lined the walkways.
Onlookers drank beers and cheered, kids filled the trees overlooking the streets. Curiosity enthralled us, but within seconds the bulls tore into groups of people, sending stampedes into shops and nearby alleys.
Young strong-headed men swung flags, whipping the animals, agitating them. And the carnage was unreal. Men were pinned, thrown into the air, mauled. Ambulances inched through the masses carrying off wounded while others were carried out, four men clutching the limbs of limp, bleeding men. A horse was gorged by a swinging bull horn, gushing onto the pavement.
A Solemn Aftermath
The run lasted about 3 hours and many of the backpackers reassembled in the main plaza at its finale, wide-eyed, blank faced. We recounted chilling stories that evening, safely among 4 walls, over cervezas and sleepiness. 4 dead, 5 wounded. An afternoon of adrenaline, excitement and fear. And a tale of Granada, Nicaragua – uncut.
