Today is San Fermin. The day my city gets crazy with the Fiesta. The first day of a week, when every morning, thousands of people get up early in the morning to run the bulls all clothed in white with red bandanas. Excitement, adrenaline, danger, emotion. But not this year. The Coronavirus canceled the Fiesta for the first time since the Civil War.
It is impossible to celebrate the Fiesta keeping social distancing and all the others protective measures anti Covid19.
No bulls, no running, no significant concentrations of people having fun. The city is silent and empty. The tourists, who came every year for more than a million, have stayed at home. We are on our own, celebrating privately, without visitors or organized public acts.
It’s bizarre. We are waiting yet for the Fiesta of next year counting down the days when we hope it will be back to normal.
Meanwhile, we celebrate having typical meals, with the taste of our “chistorra” and wine.
The streets are empty, and the sight is pretty sad in days, usually joyful and plenty of activity.
We are praying to our patron saint San Fermin that all this finishes for good as soon as possible, and we can get back to our regular life.