This weekend a group of about 15 of us got to go to Palmares. Palmares is the biggest festival of the year in all of Costa Rica and is a pretty big deal. So we signed up to go, not quite knowing what to expect other than being told that we would get to see a bull fight. After the three hour bus ride there we divided up into smaller groups to explore the festival and town.
As we walked about, we quickly learned that it wasn’t quite the festival that we were expecting. Yes, there were things like carnival rides, little tents selling random things, and the greasiest of food that you can imagine, but one thing seemed to be missing—tons of people. Seeing all of the huge tent-like structures with massive stages, lights, and all the works, we concluded that Palmares was the summer party scene. It was a pretty funny place to be for a bunch of gringo Christian students. So we spent the morning and early afternoon wondering around and what not.
By 3 o’clock it was time for what we really came for—the bull fight. We had no idea what to expect, and I know I was nervous about what I was about to see. Sitting in the stadium you could soak in the energy and excitement of everyone there. The men started to flood onto the arena floor. Sooner than later the bull was release and it was hilarious. Costa Rican bull fighting isn’t really bull fighting—it’s more like 50 men in circular arena trying to run from this bull. For the most part no one got hit. But still there were a few, and I (along with the rest of my female counter parts) could barely watch (note—it really wasn’t that violent, the bull would hit them and the other men would help get the bull away from the man who was hit). This lasted in many variations for three hours.
By the time we left the arena, it was early evening and we soon discovered a bit of why people come to Palmares. The smell of beer was everywhere and music was blaring from all the various clubs. So we wondered around for another hour. This time we stood out even more—gringos, fully clothed, sober (I’ll finish my thoughts on this in another post). Then it was time to take the bus back to San José, and eventually home, making for one very long day.
As we walked about, we quickly learned that it wasn’t quite the festival that we were expecting. Yes, there were things like carnival rides, little tents selling random things, and the greasiest of food that you can imagine, but one thing seemed to be missing—tons of people. Seeing all of the huge tent-like structures with massive stages, lights, and all the works, we concluded that Palmares was the summer party scene. It was a pretty funny place to be for a bunch of gringo Christian students. So we spent the morning and early afternoon wondering around and what not.
By 3 o’clock it was time for what we really came for—the bull fight. We had no idea what to expect, and I know I was nervous about what I was about to see. Sitting in the stadium you could soak in the energy and excitement of everyone there. The men started to flood onto the arena floor. Sooner than later the bull was release and it was hilarious. Costa Rican bull fighting isn’t really bull fighting—it’s more like 50 men in circular arena trying to run from this bull. For the most part no one got hit. But still there were a few, and I (along with the rest of my female counter parts) could barely watch (note—it really wasn’t that violent, the bull would hit them and the other men would help get the bull away from the man who was hit). This lasted in many variations for three hours.
By the time we left the arena, it was early evening and we soon discovered a bit of why people come to Palmares. The smell of beer was everywhere and music was blaring from all the various clubs. So we wondered around for another hour. This time we stood out even more—gringos, fully clothed, sober (I’ll finish my thoughts on this in another post). Then it was time to take the bus back to San José, and eventually home, making for one very long day.
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