My dumbbox is dumber than usual, so no bullcast today 
Therefore I’ve decided to catch up first, you gotta keep your priorities straight.
Meeks, I agree that it’s a dumb thing to do. We, collectively, agree that it’s a dumb thing to do. But so are mountain climbing, skydiving and sex with strangers. This just happens to be “our” dumb thing to do. We’ve also been known to jump over bonfires on Midsummer Eve…
I hope things get better for your family - both cancer-wise and emotional-stress-wise.
Mork, my first line of Spanish is actually pretty traditional. The creative versions of that same insult can go for several minutes, detailing the defects of every known and unknown ancestor for several generations, plus the priest who baptised them (and his ancestors), the teachers who taught them, the farmers who fed them, etc.
Dotty, your little gumdrop is absolutely edible! She’s so cuuuute! I love the picture at the pool. I’m so glad for your mother’s good reflexes.
Rosie, yay on the knee!
No bullcast but hey, I’m not going to let you go without your bit of culture!
OK, so what do people do in Sanfermines?
Well, uh, they let bulls loose in the streets and drink and get loud.
You know, that doesn’t quite fill 8 and a half days…
Some other activities and shows:
The fiesta begins on July 6th, at noon. People fill (and by fill, I mean that sardines in a can look at that and feel comfy by comparison) City Hall Square, wearing their fiesta clothes except the key piece, a red bandanna around their neck. The bandannas are traditionally (and actually, most even nowadays) silk; they may be embroidered or printed (but of course embroidered is a lot more elegant and lasts better) with the coat of arms of your town, or the logo of your peña… or of the bar that was giving them away. At noon, the guest of honor (usually one of the city councilors) yells “¡Pamploneses! ¡Viva San Fermín!” (with variations due to bilingualism and PCness): “People of Pamplona! A cheer for St Fermin!” and lights the rocket whose explosion indicates the beginning of the fiesta. People then tie their bandannas (which they’ve been holding aloft while the guest speaks and the rocket shoots up) around their necks and the fiesta begins.
You can be wearing anything you fancy: goth getup, a Chanel cocktail dress, a military uniform. If you have that red bandanna around your neck, you’re saying “it’s fiestas!” My brother had an interview in Pamplona during Sanfermines a couple of years back. Most of the other candidates couldn’t even be located, being on vacation. We don’t live in Pamplona itself. He went to the interview in full getup of white and red: cheap-but-new white T-shirt, 6€ white jeans, white sneakers, red cotton sash, red silk bandanna. The interviewer laughed out loud and said “I see you plan on staying around after the interview,” then opened a drawer to show him the white-and-reds he had stashed there. Bro replied “hey, since I’m coming up here, it’s compulsory to spend the day or I’d lose my Navarrese ID!*, I’ve already set with my cousins where to meet with them after this.” They spent several minutes discussing the merits of a faded sash (the one my brother was wearing was my grandfather’s before being Dad’s) vs a new one… And yes, brother got the job, a good first impression is essential, right? 
- there is no such thing as a “Navarrese ID”
Something that starts even before is la tómbola de Cáritas. I’m not even sure how to translate tómbola. A tómbola is a game of chance, where you buy tickets and based on either individual tickets or combinations thereof, you win prizes. This one also has some which say “number 54689 for BMW #3” and that’s your ticket for a raffle for a monster bike. For some reason, the numbers for the cars don’t, but those for the bikes prompt people to say “bRRMM, BRRRmmmmMM!” The prizes are donated and there’s all kinds of stuff. One year I won some kitchen utensils, a can of peaches, a four-sittings set of dishes and a very large handbag. Mom won a handcrafted vase (from Cáritas “talleres ocupacionales”, craft shops that are part of rehab therapy), two coffeetable books about two different Spanish regions and some color pencils which I promptly traded her for the kitchen utensils. If you’re ever there, remember: there’s this kind of games at the fair too, but the benefits for this one go directly to charity! Everybody at this tómbola is also a volunteer. The tómbola is set up at the beginning of Avenida Sarasate, at the feet of this lady who represents Navarrese Law and Traditions.
And the picture brings us to another tradition: the fireworks. Every night, with serious competition for the Best in Fair prize. They’re national suppliers; there’s been talk of bringing in some Chinese or American but normally anybody who mentions that idea gets surrounded by such a silent circle of :eek: :o :dubious: that he starts mumbling, says was just an idea… and doesn’t mention it again in years, if ever.
The other pic in that album is the end of the Fiesta. On the cusp of midnight between July 14th and 15th, the people take off their bandannas and sing “oh, poor me, the fiestas are over”. The traditional farewell after this is something that people from the area say all year 'round when someone’s bummed: “¡bueno! ¡pues ya falta menos pál glorioso San Fermín!” “ok, so less left to wait until the next Feast of St Fermin!”
Yes, only… 358 days Or perhaps 359. But hey, the Fiesta actually starts the day before!
(The pics are (C) whomever but I don’t know who, I think I got them from Diario de Navarra)
I just listened to that sound. You can overcome! I literally had my hand on the remote control, expecting the voice of Satan or something to come out of my computer. You can handle it - go kick some ass!