Just before 8am, a small shrine to St Fermin is set up in a wall and everyone starts chanting and waving rolled-up newspapers, asking the 12th-century saint to keep them safe. The sun breaks over the tops of the narrow streets as I hear the first fireworks go off. Everyone starts running. Drinking on the street isn't particularly pretty, but sometimes going with the flow is the thing to do, and everything is flowing on this sunny day in Pamplona, capital city of Navarre, Spain.
July 6 marks the beginning of the Festival los Sanfermines. It includes the famous running of the bulls, which takes over the streets at the start of each day from July 7 to 14. This festival is one giant party, like the Mardi Gras only hotter and with a unique element of danger. This morning, I muscle into the surging crowd, trying to get to the main square by noon for the 'official' beginning of the festival.
Donning the traditional white shirt with a red sash and red bandanna, I join the sea of white and red, mostly young, semi-inebriated men and women, dancing, shouting and laughing.
Around the Plaza Consistorial and the old City Hall building with its Renaissance facade, hundreds of champagne and wine bottles litter the street. People lean from rows of balconies, pouring unknown liquids onto the crowd. The streets smell like stale alcohol and sweat, but it is warm and the music is honking. I head to the nearest besieged wine shop and buy a bottle of cava. Now I am really into it, drinking from the bottle as the bands march past playing accordions, drums and trumpets. Many musicians have drinks in their hands.
One woman from nearby Bilbao chats in English, and a big bear of a man named Juanto warns me about the bulls. 'Don't touch them,' he says. 'And don't run on the weekend, it's too crazy.'
We all pass around bottles of cava. The narrow alleys overflow with thousands of people crammed into the cafes, bars and shops. Many just sit on the pavement. During the festival, most of the bars remove their doors entirely, since they don't close at all for eight straight days. Squeezed into a bar, one Englishman says: 'These Spaniards are simply crazy. I like it.'