Pamplona, Two Days to Go

We got up early to make a 7:30 train to Pamplona.  My first observation:  the Microsoft Surface tablet that we're sharing adds a ton of weight to my backpack.  It was part of the deal to get Tina to spend a month away from SAGE. She needs to be able to connect from time to time.

On the way to the Atocha station, people must have thought we were crazy scouring flower beds for rocks we could carry on the Camino. (Yes, we forgot to bring rocks from home.) On approximately day 24 of the Camino, there's a mountaintop cross where pilgrims deposit rocks along with wishes and prayers. Now, we have rocks.

On the train, we learned that the tracks in the Basque Country had been washed out by heavy rains and that we'd be boarding buses in Tudela de Navarra to complete the trip.  This ended up adding 40 minutes to the trip on a hot, crowded bus.

Walking to the hotel from the train station, in the late morning,  the first observation was obvious: everyone is dressed in white and red. Everyone.  Old men, babies, teenagers.  Except us.

Do you see a pattern here?

We got to the hotel,  and our room was actually ready!  That never happens.  Tina switched into a red dress,  and I put on a white shirt.  Then I bought a red bandana.  I stopped short of the white pants. I'm not carrying extra clothes for a month! The bandana could come in handy... (Tina laughs. )

Pamplona is totally overrun with visitors,  including possibly every small child in Spain. There are stages set up all around the city for musical acts. There are parades and street performances. There are huge fireworks displays.  It's  a party.

The bulls run through the streets at eight in the morning,  so we'll see them tomorrow.  They're the central part of this festival,  but it's morphed into a huge Mardi Gras-like party.

A random band performing a paso doble on the street.  My mom would have loved this.

We had a great lunch under the trees in a park at a pop up restaurant.  We won't be eating like this on the Camino.  After lunch,  we found the ticket brokers I used to buy bullfight tickets online.  And meandered our way to the bullring, stopping along the way at a Mercadona supermarket to buy snacks. The brokers told us that it's customary at half time to break out snacks and share them with your neighbors.

Heading to the bullring,  we stopped to watch the sixteen local neighborhood brass bands and their entourages march through the streets, wine filled coolers in tow, in a big parade. They fill the cheap sunny seats and make constant noise.  It was a hoot.

Bullfights are a strange thing. Either you like them or you don't.  My mom did. My dad, born in this country,  did not.  Tina and I actually do.

Tina shot this video.  I think it came out great.

The strangest experience of the day was when those sixteen neighborhood bands started playing Queen's "We are the Champions" with the entire stadium singing along.  In English.  The matador and the bull are facing off, and the crowd is singing Freddy Mercury.  Weird.

We shared snacks and drinks with Fernando, an older Spaniard seated next to us.  Everybody was in a festive, wine induced mood.  Fernando described the bullfight as a Spanish ballet.  You can judge from TIna's video.

Afterwards, we walked through town and then had dinner of salad in the main square and watched a little bit of an outdoor concert before packing it in. Tomorrow,  we have to meet a guide at 7:15 to get a spot on a balcony overlooking the narrow street where the bulls run.  We'll tell you how it goes.