Pamploma, Madrid, and Good Bye!

Pamplona is really pretty small at about 200,000 people. We saw signs for MacDonald's and a Burger King, but for the most part, it hasn't lost it's Spanish soul. Just one example: the tradition of having a coffee with friends and family isn't relegated to a brand shop on a corner. It happens in small coffee shops, in pubs, and outside bakeries. It's only a few steps away wherever you are. Having that coffee is more about the social glue in the culture than getting the caffeine and sugar hit you need to get through the day.

In spite of the old world layout, Pamplona is very easy to navigate. Most of what you'd want to see is within walking distance from the Plaza del Castillo in the heart of the old city. It's the place where we had the crazy Saturday night dinner a few blocks from our hotel.

We did take in a couple of sights. We found the famous Running of the Bulls statue representing the annual San Fermin Festival, and the big Plaza de Torros (bull ring). Pamplona is ALL about the San Fermin festival, as it should be because of the hordes of tourists ($) it brings to the town every summer. Here's a link  to some strange facts about the festival you may find interesting, like it started in the 1500's and since they've been keeping records in 1924, 15 people have died in the run. It's been said that Hemmingway actually regretted writing about the event in his 1926 book, The Sun Also Rises, because of what it did to popularize the festival and the town.

We stopped again for a daytime experience of the Plaza del Castillo, and being tired of ham and Spanish potato omelets, we ordered a hamburger. We never imagined that the word ham in hamburger could actually mean ham. We're not sure it was in fact ham, but the unfamiliar look of the meat was suspicious. It was just as unlikely the dish would come with a fried egg, and . . . wait for it . . . slices of Serano ham stacked inside. It may be a while before I can eat ham again.

the. . . highlight of Pamplona for us
was our own
Running of the Bulls.

The absolute highlight of Pamplona for us was our own Running of the Bulls. On the way to dinner, we noticed people were pressed up against the walls of the street and expectantly looking toward the big plaza. Suddenly, like something out of a creepy Pied Piper movie, about a hundred kids, ages say eight to twelve, all came running down the street screaming. They were being chased by angry looking men rolling the front end of normal sized bull replica wheelbarrows. The "bulls" were interspersed among the kids and made the occasional "charge" at the bystanders, too. I came inches from being gored by a fake bull that night.

We had inadvertently walked into festival of San Fermin Txikito, or the "Little Running of the Bulls." It explained our surprise by strange happenings and unusual events of the weekend. For example, there was a sudden parade with a lot of horns and some giant whirling puppets. Clowns suddenly appeared in the main plaza, and there was a four-piece fife and drum group that marched under our hotel window early Sunday morning. It all was sweet and kept our short stay in Pamplona interesting.

For our last night, we had a very light salad dinner out and then honored the day by going back to Hemmingway's favorite haunt, Café Iruña, and having a cup of hot chocolate. Café Iruña is so identified with Hemmingway there is a life-sized statue of him at the bar. The cup of hot chocolate was so thick it was just a notch below warm chocolate syrup. I've never heard Gwen say no to chocolate in front of her, but this cup did it. Next time we order a cup of cocoa in Spain, its chocolate con leche.

I'm going to leave off writing here,
say goodbye,
and just let Madrid have its way with me.

We're off to Madrid on the high-speed train tomorrow at 11 AM. I'm going to leave off writing here, say goodbye, and just let Madrid have its way with me. Gwen and I have loved our time in Spain, with each other, and sharing our collection of adventures with you. Of course, there are countless small stories. But mostly, I want to remember how much I've loved the Spanish culture, how caring and helpful our Spanish acquaintances have been to us, and how the rich history of Spain is just out the backdoor of any city if you go looking for it.

That all said, a month is a long time living out of even nice hotels and from a suitcase. We'll be glad to soon be back in our own world, reconnecting with family and friends, and starting our pork free dieting. So Muchas Gracias for your attention and vaya con Dios, or may the God of your understanding travel with you whenever you go.

Vaya con Dios!

Till the next trip, love from us to you and yours,

Earl and Gwen

Bye to Llanes and Hello Pamplona

For our last day in Llanes, we went back to the ocean. The sun was shining and, again, we needed to give our feet a rest day. Our pal Jeremy from Iberian Adventures had suggested Torimbia beach just west of our previous ocean walk.

Getting there meant another tight drive through the little village of Niembro, which led to an uphill road, which lead to a broad, 180 degree ocean vista. But it got better. From the car park there was a straight (and short) path out to the best possible vista point and lunch spot. Here's a couple photos to give you a sense for not just Torimbia beach, but what the whole coastline is like in this part of Spain. Lots and lots of small beaches, the vast majority with no food or bathroom services. Most surprisingly, there are no houses or vacation homes on the majority of them. Just miles of unspoiled beaches.

Views to the east and west from the vista point.

We spent the afternoon and evening back at El Habana. For our final dinner, we took a risk on a local specialty, Paella Negra or Black Paella. It's a rice dish with vegetables, chunks of fish, all cooked with sweet paprika, olive oil, seafood broth and the magic ingredient, squid ink. Ever the tourists, we both had flan to end the meal. They just understand that dish here, or maybe it's just more tasty because I'm eating it in Spain.

We packed up, said goodbye to the really nice folks at El Habana and headed off for Pamplona four hours away. I may have said it before, but the highways where we've been have all been great. People know how to drive, use signals, and stay to the right if not passing. It's been really easy going and I'd drive again in Spain if the occasion arose.

The terrain changed a lot on our short trip. In the beginning, we were traveling along the ocean and it was like US 1 along the California coast. From there we turned inland into the mountains and, with all the pines, it was a little like Colorado. As we got closer to Pamplona, it started to look more flat and open like Kansas. Or maybe I'm just a little homesick. The only goat we saw was one made of stainless steel in the middle of a roundabout. I guess that was the indicator we were headed for city life.

Finding our hotel in the middle of the old town was another one of those driving around roundabouts multiple times, looking for clues, and driving down what look like alleys, until a fancy hotel somehow appears in front of you. Ours is the Palacio Guendulain and it was a re-purposed home of the Count of Guendulain. The Count is apparently still kicking and living in Madrid. The Palacio is a 25 room hotel, still filled with family photos, antiques, and a collection of carriages in it's courtyard. I think Gwen booked it for it's location and quality and not the fact that it resembled her name. Imaging Gwen's Palace! Nice to be in this old part of the city and to be in relative comfort.

The Elegant the Palacio Guendulain!

That night we headed for the center of the old town, Plaza Del Castillo. It's the heart of the old city and it was packed. We were in a crazy kind of shock as we went looking for a place to eat. First, we were used to the quiet of small town Spain. Even Llanes was tame compared to this place. Secondly, having lost track of time, we forgot it was Saturday night. The place had all the excitement of the Minnesota State Fair with an emphasis on baby carriages and people drinking. I guess those behaviors do go together somehow.

We found a table on the edge of the chaos and proceeded to take in the Vida Espanol, city style. People walking around the giant square, kids running everywhere, different groups of men in costume singing in the corners, clowns, fire crackers, balloons full of gas, and a beautiful sunset over it all. Perfect spot for dinner in Pamplona. Here's a picture of Hemingway in 1959 having dinner in the same place. He spent a considerable amount of time in the area during the Spanish Civil War and was a big fan of the San Fermín Festival (Running of the Bulls) here each year. The crush of people around Hemingway is about what it felt like to us that night, except no one was paying attention to us.

We tumbled into bed after a big travel day listening to people singing and cheering about gawd knows what into the wee hours in the little plaza outside our hotel. Figured this would be good training for our two nights in the big time when we hit Madrid. More tomorrow for our last night in Pamplona.

In the home stretch,

Love from,

Earl and Gwen