2011
Spain: Madrid, Pamplona, Barcelona, Seville, and Marbella
7/13 Disclaimer - it's taking me a long time to get this stuff uploaded
due to limited wi-fi and lack of time, but I've finally begun uploading
it. Not many pix yet, and those that are there are full size
images, hence very slow to load. I'll do better soon.Tuesday, July 5 2011
Last January, Meredith and I were celebrating a girl's
day, having our toes done, and lunch at a tapas bar. After a
little bit of wine, we were singing "I Never Been To Spain". One
week later I had booked my trip. A 1 week tour that includes 1 day in
Madrid, 3 days in Pamplona for the running of the bulls, and 2 days in
Barcelona. Then there are 3 days on my own, and then on to a one
week stay at a resort timeshare in the Mediterranean city of Marbella.
That's the plan.
I left Denver at 9:30 am Tuesday, with connections in Chicago and
Boston, and landed in Madrid at 7am Wednesday, Spain time. I took a
homeopathic product to reduce jet lag when I left Denver, and every 2
hours since. Had a 2 hour
nap, and then I hit the streets. First stop a local cafe for a jamon
and queso panini. It is here where I first see the sign "Servicios".
This was not pointing to the cashier, but rather, to the restrooms
located downstairs. How many times have you heard people practicing
Spanish and asking "donde esta los banos?" Won't work in Spain.
My hotel is downtown, just 2 blocks from the old city
center. Many of the blocks are shaped as obtuse triangles, so the
streets intersect in many odd ways. Also, many have no street name
posted. So very easy to get lost. Not to worry, as I have
an app for that. On my phone I have a walking tour of Madrid, which includes
descriptions of historical sites and other places of interest, along
with directions from my current location. It worked very nicely.
My first stop on the walking tour was at Plaza Mayor, a large
rectangular plaza surrounded by 3 story apartments. There are also
restaurants and shopping. The site has been used for soccer games,
markets, and executions. 
Next was the Plaza de la Villa, the town hall from the 1600s. Beautiful building.
I arrived at the Cathedral de la Almudena five minutes before it was closing. It's described as an "iconic landmark of Madrid", and I know that it is because its image is on a variety of souvenir items, including shirts and shot glasses. Next door to the cathedral is the Palacio Real, the royal palace.
The adjacent Plaza de Oriente is tree-lined and also lined with statues of past kings, going back to 400 a.d.
I finished my walking tour at the Plaza de Sol, a great place to enjoy an ice cream cone and just sit and watch people. Most of the streets on this walking tour are closed to traffic, so it's very relaxing and enjoyable.
I came back later, at about 9 pm, for dinner in a nice local hangout. Had a wonderful red wine and a Spanish omelet, which is unlike an American version of a Spanish omelet. Potatoes, cream, eggs, and cheese, in a brick and served in pie slices. Very tasty.
Since I only caught a little cat nap on the plane earlier, and then a couple of hours when arriving in Spain, it was a very, very long day. I had taken a homeopathic product to help avoid jet lag, surprisingly called "No Jet Lag", and it appears to have worked.
About the hotel: the lights require that you insert your room pass into a slot, otherwise it is dark, and my chargers won't work. The door never closes behind me - that could be good or bad; so far only bad. I had forgotten that European hotels do not supply wash clothes. The light switch for the bathroom is outside the bathroom. I had read that this is common throughout Spain, and that some bathroom lights are on timers. Can't wait for that!
Thursday, July 7 2011 To Pamplona
Perhaps I spoke too soon. I awoke after 5
hours
sleep at 4 a.m., and somehow went back to sleep for another 4 1/2
hours!!! Oh, oh! I'm supposed to be leaving for the train station
now. So much for the plan for breakfast in the Plaza de
Sol.
There's a taxi stand across from my hotel. My driver spoke only Spanish, and I speak poquito espanol, like a 2 year old would speak the language. I know lots of words, but have no concept of Spanish grammar. We had a fun time conversing all the way to the train station.
At the train station, security x-rayed my bags, but I could carry water on board. No pasaporta required. I hurried, looking for platform 8b. Not to be found. Learned that the word plata means seat, not platform. I hurried, and was on the correct car, but not yet in my seat 2 minutes prior to launch. Whew!
There was a young man in my seat. Via gestures, and my pigeon-Espanol, I agreed to swap seats with him so he could sit with his amigos. There were 4 of them, all hyper about running with the bulls tomorrow.
The countryside outside of Madrid is very dry, even arid. There are some gentle, rolling hills, with something that looks similar to sagebrush, followed by occasional mini-forests.
I arrive at the Pamplona station, and there is a sea of red and white. Almost everyone is dressed in red and white. Even the train station staff and taxi drivers. I am not, but my toes are. They are red and white, with the word "Ole"on one big toe and a toro on the other.
I expected to be met by someone from my tour company but saw no one with a sign. I got in the line for a taxi, and caught a ride to the hotel. Pamplona is much larger than I had anticipated. There are lots of high-rise apartment buildings along the way. My hotel is less than a mile away from the old town, where the bull runs takes place each morning at 8 a.m. The Festival of San Fermin, a saint who was executed by bulls, has been happening here for 600 years, with the bull run each day since the late 1800s. The bulls make the final run from the pens to the arena, a distance of about 1/2 mile, each day of the festivals, from July 6 thru July 14. Other towns in northern Spain also have the bull runs, but in 1925, Hemingway was here and wrote "The Sun Also Rises", mentioning San Fermin and the rest, as they say, is history. There are bullfights here just during the festival.
Our tour group, Spynz, consists of primarily Americans, from various overlapping 3-day, 5-day, and 7-day tours. I'm not really in a specific group. We assembled in the lobby about 20 minutes after I arrived at the hotel and we're off to see Pamplona. My guide, the tour owner, Ryan, claimed that someone was at the station to meet me. He pretty much blamed me for coming out the wrong exit. Or, perhaps my train was late. Hmm. No, it was right on time, and why would that matter? I later learned that they were inside the train station, where people go to BOARD trains, and the sign was about 4 inches wide. Hmm again.
Ryan has run with the bulls many times over a 20 year period. We walked the route of the run from end to finish, 1/2 mile, and finish to end, and Ryan explains what usually happens during the runs. There will be 6 bulls and 6 steers. The bulls are 5-6 year old wild bulls, raised on ranches in the north, where they have never had contact with humans until being transported here. They are quite wild and will attack anything that moves. They will all die in the arena that night. The steers are accustomed to the route to the arena, and are supposed to calm the bulls and guide them to the arena. If away from the herd, the steers are also dangerous.
We finished our tour with a round of sangria at the Hemingway Bar and then everyone headed off on their own. It was 6 p.m. and I have eaten only a granola bar, so I find a little local restaurant and have my breakfast / lunch / dinner.
Friday, July 8 The Running of the bulls
I was at an apartment with a balcony facing the street
at 6 a.m. The run isn't until 8, but the streets are closed off
at 6:30, so we would be unable to reach the balcony after that.
There are 8 of us, and excitement is in the air. We are served
coffee, juice, and pastries. The balcony overlooks the run, along
a straight-away. Perhaps not as fun and exciting as a curve would
be, but still lots of fun. The runners are allowed on the route
15 minutes to 8 a.m. They will have time to walk past the opening
stretch, which is lined with walls, and no escape. The
remainder of the route is lined with portable fences, giving the
runners an
escape. If runners fall down, they should stay flat, in a fetal
position. If they want to escape via the fences, don't go over the
fence, as the bulls would likely attack, rather escape under the
fence. The runs begins at 8:00, when a cannon is shot. This
indicates that the pens are open. There are men from the ranch
providing the bulls who are there to see that their bulls arrive safely
in the arena. They encourage the bulls out of the pens and to the
arena. When they leave the pens, a 2nd cannon sounds, alerting
the runners to their presence.
Attending the running of the bulls has been on my bucket
list for some time. I really wanted to photograph
it. Just before the bulls came by, what do I
do? I take a video with my phone. It's pretty good,
though. Hope it was worth it. I use my real camera to
capture the trailing runners and steers, running clean-up. Just
prior to the steers, a gate across the alley was closed, forcing the
trailing runners to stop. Then someone realized, just in time,
that there were still some steers coming. Oops. A disaster
was barely averted. Here's the video (.3gp format - don't know if it
will work with Windows; if not, will convert it somehow later):
After the run, we all go out to breakfast at Hemingway's, and then
everyone again goes off on their own. Hemingway's was lots of
fun, with people doing line dances, throughout the restaurant and
bar. It's a party. I wandered through the old town,
watching a parade, and just people watching. It's really a fun
place!
I returned to my hotel for a brief siesta, and then returned to the old city. My espanol was pretty much learned from geographic locations in San Diego, menus in Mexican restaurants, and from the Taco Bell chihauhau (yo quiero....). I have apps on my phone to translate Spanish signs, use a Spanish dictionary, etc., but so far, I haven't needed them.
At 3 p.m., the streets are deserted. It's not siesta time,
it's time for lunch. I stopped for a wonderful paella and oyster
pinxtas (the Basque term for the Spanish tapas) at the Brusela
Cafe. Delicioso.
Then more exploring. I wandered back to the square and Hemingway's Bar. There's a wonderful outdoor patio, and I find a table in a great position to observe the crowds. There are 2 men at the table next to me. One speaks to me, and explains they are French. A moment later, a 3rd arrives, and he is hilarious. He was doing a mime routine, running into a pole, and then goes to a chair at their table and does a headstand. When he is finished, the 3 of them invite me to join them. Three Frenchmen invite me to their table!!! I reply mais oiu and ooh la la. Bull run? This is the highlight of the day. They were Alain, Bernard, and Johnny, from Lourdes. Alain and Bernard are brothers, and Johnny is Bernard's son, and my translator. A while later a couple from France joined us, and their friend, a 23 year old girl from California. We had a blast. The last 3 left, and Alain, who kept taking pictures of me, came and cozied up. I pretty much panicked, although he was my favorite, and focused on Johnny. Alain left. Ohhhhhh. So, I left. Still the highlight, though.
I once again roamed the streets of Pamplona, just observing the
sights and the people. I ran into the French couple and girl from
California, and they invited me to join them. Had a great time
for a couple of hours, and then we went our separate ways! They were
going to stay up all night and then run with the bulls in the morning
before heading home.
Then I came by Hemingway's again, and found a few people from my
tour group (recognized them by their t shirts, which I did not yet
have). I stayed and had sangria with them for a while. Not nearly as
much fun as the French. Left, once again wandering the streets.
Came by Hemingway's later and they were still there. It was about
10:30
p.m. Didn't join them this time. Instead, I headed back to my
hotel, taking a slightly different route. I planned to go 3 blocks and
then turn left at the park. But there was no park. Oh, oh.
I got out my phone, to check the map. My phone was dead. I
looked at my paper map. My location was not on it. I wandered for
a while, and then stopped to watch the 11:00 fireworks, which were
wonderful. Tried finding my way, and could not. No taxi in
sight. By the time I asked for help, I was off of my paper map,
so no one could point out my current location. After a long time
had passed, I finally located the park, and promptly passed my
turn. It looked quite different at night and from the opposite
direction. I knew I was close, but this wasn't hand
grenades. I finally had some luck, when a cab dropped off
someone just ahead of me. He said I was almost there, and he
could give me directions. I said, no, please, please take me. The
fare was 4 Euros, and I gave him 10. We were both happy. It
was 1:30 a.m. and I was exhausted, and really, really need los bano.
Saturday, July 9 The Running of the bulls, Redux
Last night I had decided that I would run with the bulls
today. "Run" is probably not the right term. There is plenty of
time to walk to a relatively save place against a wall and watch them
run by. In fact, that's what many of the "runners" do. Not
all - some are really runners and are very brave. Not I. Well, I
awakened at 7 a.m., too late to join the runners. Instead, I
headed to town and joined the observers from behind the restraining
walls. Didn't see a single runner or bull. Oh, well.
Yesterday's balcony view was really fun! Got caught in the middle
of a stamped of locals after the run.
There are thousand of young people in town. Many of
them sleep in the park, in tents or out in the open. From the
amount of trash there in the morning, it seems that many of them stay up
all night to see the next morning's run. The streets of the old town
are also littered with glass and paper cups. The streets are
slippery and sticky. I had to tread carefully. The fiesta
is
a grand
party!
I head back to my hotel, passing the park. City workers are busy
cleaning up the trash by using machines to blow it into piles.
It's very effective.
I relaxed at the hotel for a while, talking to other tourists and
swapping stories, and then walked back towards town around 2 p.m.
for lunch. I had a tortilla, the Spanish version, which is
open-faced, ala a tostada, about 1" thick, and loaded with
potatoes,
egg, pork, spinach, queso, and probably some other items. It was
great with a cerveza.
Most of the bars and restaurants have their tapas on display.
I've heard that some places in some cities have them free, but I
haven't located those places.
Saturday night I attended my first bullfight. Originally, I
had not planned to attend, as the bulls are killed, but I really,
really wanted to see and photograph a matador at work. I think
they are so graceful. I went with 5 other people from the tour
whom I had never before met. Then we went our separate ways at the
arena. I couldn't believe the the tour operator didn't have a
block of seats for us! I did end up sitting with someone from the
group. Chuck Black, 84, from Malibu, who was a really sweet guy
and had attended more than 40 bullfights, mostly in Mexico City. The
arena was sold out, with 15,000, and was colorful and animated.
There are several social clubs in Pamplona, and each sits in its own
section, wears their own color shirts or hats (unlike the rest of the
arena, where everyone is in red and white). Some are wearing
yellow hats, reminiscent of Wisconsin's cheese heads. And they have
their own
bands. Mostly drums and trumpets. No vuvuelas.
I learned a lot about the bulls, the matadors, and the sport, from
Chuck. The matadors are like rock stars, date super models, and drive
Ferarris. Strictly business on fight days. No photographs are
allowed during the day prior to a fight., They work in Pamplona
and other Spanish cities in the
summer and in Mexico City in the winter.
The bulls are truly wild and will fight anything that
moves. They are raised on large ranches in northern Spain, and
are 5 or 6 years old, unlike most bulls that are butchered at 2 or 3.
This is the rationalization for killing them. They have never
seen
humans in their lifetime until they are brought to Pamplona. Each bull
has a name. It is a huge honor for the ranch to have their bulls
selected for the ring.
There are 3 matadors, each will fight 2 bulls this evening. I was
not prepared for
the torture of the bulls that occurs prior to the matador beginning his
work. The bulls enter the ring and are absolutely
magnificent. Very powerful! They are mad! There are other
matadors who
play the bull, so the primary matador can read the bull. Bulls
favor either their left or right horn. Then the picadors come in on
horseback, the horse wearing protective garb. It really looks
medieval. The picador's job is to stab the bull in the back of
the
neck, in
front of the shoulder blades, maiming the bull so that it cannot raise
its head very high, or make sharp turns, which is considered too
dangerous for the
matador. The horses really take a beating, too, as the bull
pushes
into them with all his strength, while the picador's lance, stabs even
deeper. I see nothing beautiful or brave in any of this. Except the
amazing strength of the bulls. Then 2 other men, the banderilleros,
try to attach some hooks with
sticks into the bull's neck. After all this, the bull is
definitely distressed and bewildered, you can tell by his breathing,
and he is bleeding heavily. Then, comes the matador. Much
pomp, which is fun
to watch. They have some incredible moves with the bulls,
and I really enjoyed watching and photographing them. The matadors
displayed their art, which was like a beautiful dance, and the
magnificent bulls displayed their strength and ferocity. I did see a
bull hit, but not really injure a matador, and another chased out the
guy with the hooks.Yeah, toro! At times, a matador would be on
his knees, daring
the bull to come. It was impressive. I steeled myself to the
blood. I did not watch the kills. Most of the kills were
not instant, as the bulls did not go down willingly, and I did see
some awful sights. In the end, all were dead and were unceremoniously
dragged out of the stadium by teams of 3 large horses. Each "fight"
lasted about 20 minutes, which seemed like a very, very long time.
Okay, so now I have seen and photographed parts of bullfights. I really loved the bulls as they entered the ring, and I loved the matadors as they provoked the bulls. I hated the rest. This is not a surprise.
After this, I went to a wonderful dinner at the fancy VIP room at
the hotel where the Hemingway's Bar is located. The people
love Hemingway. He really put them on the map with The Sun Also
Rises. I met a couple on the tour who were form Hawaii and had a good
conversation. Her name was Cathy, can't remember his. Too bad the big
get-together was as we were leaving. After
dinner, we have a wonderful view of the evening's fireworks over the
old
citadel.
I was escorted back to my hotel by the tour operator - I guess he
didn't want me to get lost again. Ryan is not the most detail-oriented
tour guide. Too bad, because why else would one book a tour, other than
to have someone else plan the details? He works only 5 weeks a year, in
Pamplona, the Tour de France, Italy, and Dublin, and the rest of
the time is a stay-at-home dad to his his 3 young children. Nice work, if you can get it. I guess.
Overall, I had a really great time in Pamplona. The festival
is really a lot of fun, with people from all over the world. Lots
of eating, drinking, singing, playing, and yet I saw no fights.
I'm so glad I came and would love to come again. Cross that one
off my bucket list!