At about 2am I was cursing my stupidity for embarking on such an Odyssey whilst not 100% fit. I was unable to get comfortable and getting iller by the hour. It was all the worse because I knwe that one night of good sleep would probably have sorted me out, but now I'd set everything back. Given I was in no mood to be sociable it invalidated the whole point of travelling down with the others in any case. I had to be fit enough to do the run, so conserved my energy as much as possible, but the worst thing was the knowledge that I'd have to do the whole trip again to come home. I could see that if I couldn't sleep on the way back either then I would be in danger of having to take off another week to recuperate and I knew that that was time that I couldn't afford to lose. I was pretty sure I was going to have to fly back.
I guessed I was probably the only person on the bus who had considered actually running with the bulls this year. Stewart had initially suggested it as a possible task and at the time I wasn't particularly concerned with my own safety and had thought about it. Then I'd heard about this alternative run and also quite by chance saw a travel documentary about the run. All the men doing it seemed to be stupid, macho, drunk Australians who thought they were proving something by taking part. Yet it all seemed a bit desperate and pathetic, especially when you saw them vaulting over the fences the minute the thing started. Worse though was the footage of the bulls, who looked confused and angry and in pain. They were slipping around on the cobble-stones and generally looking wretched. It is possibly brave to protect yourself or your loved ones against an unprovoked attack from a wild animal, especially if the combat is not balanced in your favour. But the Pamplona bulls are forced into this unnatural situation and are drugged and hindered in various unpleasant ways. I think there is little more cowardly than tormenting an animal for no particular good reason, other than to make yourself feel big. And then later on to kill it. I am glad I found out about the PETA demonstration (not that I think I would ever have really gone ahead with the other run).
It struck me that for the first time in my life I was probably the most right wing person on a bus. Not that I am right wing. I am soft, centre, wishy-washy new labour and ashamed of it. But everyone else on this bus was to the left of that. With the probably exception of our drivers. But some things must remain a constant and the driver is always the most right-wing person on the bus. At the beginning of the day whoever is the most right-wing person on the bus is designated the driver and they remain the driver until someone more right-wing gets on and expresses an opinion that is too fascist for the current driver, who thus gives up his seat. If a driver can stay in his seat for long enough and can rasie enough money to buy a taxi he is then allowed to go off to become a cab driver. That is how it works.
But to be the most right wing person apart from the driver (and thus being so close in the chain of power to being responisble for driving this massive bus - imagine the low speed damage I coudl cause in this) made me feel a little strange.
I managed to nod off intermittently and maybe get an hour or two of sleep on the long journey and I have to say that the lengths that these people were prepared to go to to make their point was very admirable. This was an enormous amount of hassle and was going to take up four days of their time. Clearly most of the activists were not rich people (which is why we were going to Spain on a fucking coach) and so could ill afford so much time away from making money, but they felt strongly enough about this issue to go through this living hell (admittedly worse if you are ill, but not pleasant if you are completely healthy).
There were two full buses carrying people from all over Europe and another bus of Italians and Germans on its way. I wondered how the Spanish would feel about all these foreigners coming over to tell them how to live their lives. How would we feel if an armada of Spanilards came over to england to protest at fox hunting? I think we'd think it was great, actually. And maybe it is more shaming for a nation if people are making such an effort to tell them something they are doing is wrong. Maybe over time it would make them reconsider what they were doing. The drivers took a wrong turning looking for a short cut and extended our journey by several hours. When we finally arrived at the rather pretty camp-site on the banks of a blue lake, we had been travelling for more than 24 hours. I was a wreck. I tried to sleep for a bit, but to no avail.
Then it was time for the much anticipated "vegan barbecue". I had wondered what this might involve. Some lettuce on a bun and hold the cheese? Actually the vegan burgers were so impressive that some of the activists wondered if they might be meat. Having eaten steak within the last week I was in more than a position to tell them that they definitely weren't meat, but I wasn't about to tell anyone that just yet. I still wasn't convinced that I would be accepted if they knew the truth and to be honest I had already spent so much time keeping myself to myself that I don't think they needed any other reason to think I was odd. I still hadn't worked them out either and wasn't sure what made them tick.
My mouth was now in so much pain that swallowing the food was very difficult. On the plus side my sudden turn away from drinking and inability to eat means the weight is falling off. On the down side my trousers are falling down even worse and I don't have a belt.
I got talking to the two girls who I had met at Kings Cross the day before (though that seemed a life-time away now). They told me they were just vegetarian and were feeling a bit intimidated by the others and the some of the vehemence that was on display. I knew what they meant. Some people (perhaps the mosquito funeral lady) took things very seriously and almost competitively. Yet the Pamplona was a cause that 90% of meat eaters would support if they knew the facts and it is important that the organisation is welcoming to everyone. To be fair, I think PETA probably are, but clearly some individuals can be a bit intimidating (or in my case, my own concerns might have come into play. After all, I hadn't had any indication that I'd be ostracised for being a meat eater from most people).
Sean, the leader of the protest stood up to talk to us. He was very focused on what we needed to achieve here and is very likeable. He made it clear that people should concentrate on having a happy and peaceful day which was not clouded by moving attention away from the bull run to any other issue. I think he was spot on about this.
Disappointingly though he revealed that due to various deals made with local and regional government we would not be running nude. Last year the nude protestors had been coralled in one place and arrested for puiblic indecency. The local mayor was very much against the running of the nudes happening this year and had refused permission. But the regional government had ruled it could, provided genitals and breasts were covered.
I was pretty pissed off about this. For me, the main point of my challenge had been the nudity aspect and I also thought that it might somewhat dampen the point of the actual protest too. It wasn't running with the nudes if we were clothed. After that coach trip and the detriment to my health I wondered if I'd wasted my time.
There were always going to be people not being nude and they were supposed to wear white, but as I had assumed that I would be naked I hadn't brought any white clothing. Sean told us we had to wear white pants. I was at a loss, but Tracey, one of the girls I was with said she had brought three pairs of white knickers and I could have one of them. Without being immodest I wasn't convinced they would fit. When I saw them I was even less convinced. But I thought I'd leave it til tomorrow to try them on. I went for a quick drink with the girls who were enormously good fun and as with almost everyone reassuringly normal (and let's face it, one of them had already let me into her knickers), but was too weary to stay up long.
I went to my cabin to sleep. After nearly nodding off straight away I was then kept awake by two young women discussing their various animal activist exploits in the loudest voices possible. I wasn't the only person trying to sleep and I didn't want to complain and appear like a curmudgeon, but it seemed ratehr inconsiderate. And it was something I had noticed amongst a few of the protestors; that desire to show off about what they've done and openly display their credentials. This is why the two vegetarian girls had felt intimidated. The loudness of the conversation demonstrated that it was intended for the several people already in the cabin - other people were having whispered conversations - but also was a spectacular example of the way that some activists can care so much about animals and have little thought for human beings. I was very near to the end of my tehter and close to saying "Fuck animal rights, what about my human rights to sleep?" They could easily have been quieter and there were plenty of places outside that they could talk without interrupting anyone. Finally someone just turned off the light and they realised this was a signal to maybe shut up. I hoped to god and all his angels that I would finally get the sleep I needed.
