Thanks to Ernest Hemingway, Pamplona is famous for two things.  The Festival of San Fermin whose ‘running of the bulls’ kicks off the annual bull fighting season and, well, Ernest Hemingway.

Sanfermines, as the fiesta is known in Spanish, is a week long traditional celebration held in July in honour of Saint Fermin, who in the third century was the first bishop of Pamplona.  It’s been celebrated since at least the 14th century with a statue of the saint paraded through the streets accompanied by singers, dancers and important city figures.

Somewhere along the line, bull fighting became part of the spectacle.

Pamplona’s modern bull ring was inaugurated in 1922, a year before Hemingway’s first visit.  With a capacity of 22,000 spectators, it is Spain’s second largest, after Madrid’s La Venta.  It’s also the fourth largest in the world, the biggest being a massive 41,000+ seat arena in Mexico City.

Out of season, visitors can do a self-guided audio tour of the arena and back of house areas which include museum-style exhibits about the history and practice of bull fighting.  We’ve never wanted to see an actual bullfight.  And while we reluctantly accept that people have a right to practice their cultural traditions, the museum’s video footage should be enough to convince even the most hard of heart that this is not a ‘sport’, it’s animal cruelty.  Bull fighters risk serious injury but it’s not an even contest.  The bulls don’t stand a chance, and they do not die a quick death.

In 1567, Pope Pius V decreed that “exhibitions of tortured beasts and bulls is contrary to Christian duty and piety” and called for “an end to such bloody amusements, abject and more appropriate for devils than for men”.  He declared the penalty of excommunication for participating in such pursuits, a cannon law which has never been revoked, but even in this very Catholic country, clearly had little effect.

Hemingway first visited Pamplona as a newspaper reporter in 1923 at the age of 24.  Three years later he published his novel, The Sun Also Rises.  Personally, we think the book should be called Unlikeable People Getting Drunk, but what would we know?  It was his first commercial success and despite the fact that most of the book is based elsewhere, it literally put Pamplona on the map for bull fighting tourism.

His contribution is honoured with a statue outside the arena.

Hemingway visited Pamplona nine times prior to the Spanish Civil War, always for Sanfermines.   He then found himself unable to visit Spain for many years due to the political opinions he expressed about the war.  By the time he returned, Sanfermines was crowded with foreigners seeking to emulate the characters in his novel.  Apparently he wasn’t impressed.

The origin of the ‘encierro’, or running with the bulls, is unclear.  It probably evolved from the practice of herders jostling the bulls to incite fear and panic in order to speed up their progress from the holding pens through the streets to the bull ring.  Testosterone fuelled idiots elevated this to a test of bravado in the 1800s by jumping into the path of the bulls and running alongside.  And yes, it was a male invention – women have only been permitted to participate since 1974.

Despite, or perhaps because of the danger, running with the bulls seems to become ever more popular.  Today, more than 2,000 people take their chances in the 875 metre charge from Plaza Consistorial to the bull ring.

Near the arena is a monument celebrating the run.

Every year, hundreds need medical attention for everything from cuts and grazes to life-threatening injuries.  Call us wowsers but the whole thing seems to us an exercise in unnecessary personal risk coupled with unnecessary stressing of the animals.

Since 1910 when records began to be kept, 16 runners have died.  Most deaths were from goring, a few from head injuries from being struck by horns, and at least one man suffocated when he fell and was buried under a pile up of other runners.  On the rail marking the edge of the route where the bull run officially begins, there is a barely discernible plaque in honour of those who have died.  Perhaps the city authorities don’t think it’s good for business to advertise just how dangerous this senseless spectacle is.

And if the daftest thing to do in Pamplona is run with the bulls, the second daftest is to have a trick photo taken of yourself pretending to do so.

Hemingway stayed at the Hotel Gran Perla, now the oldest still-standing hotel in Pamplona.

And drank in Cafe Iruña in the main square, which also features in The Sun Also Rises.  We had lunch there and predictably, its popularity reflects its fame rather than the quality of its food.

Hemingway and bullfighting aside, Pamplona is a very pleasant city with an attractive old town heart.

And the best thing?  The pintxo bars tucked along Calle San Nicolas where we re-acquainted ourselves with the sublime pleasure of the gilda, a delicious snack on a stick comprising olives, white anchovies and pickled mild chillies.

As well as a huge range of other one- or two-bite wonders.

Recovered from jet lag and fortified with pintxos, we headed to San Sebastián to start the Camino del Norte.  A long walk awaits.