For 51 weeks of the year, the capital of Navarre is a sleepy little Spanish city. But in the second week of July, Pamplona becomes bull-mad; its streets and plaza full of snuffing, rushing bulls. Visitors come from Madrid and Paris; peasants from miles around sleep in wagons, in the fields, or do not sleep at all. For four days, Pamplona celebrates the Fiesta of San Fermin, its patron saint. There are bullfights, street dancing and parades, but by far the most exciting ceremony is the encierro (driving of the bulls.) Soon after dawn of the first day, hundreds of youths gather at the edge of town. Men climb upon six big cages, reach down, and open them. Out walk six bulls, blinking in the sunlight. They are strong, lithe, handsome. They look around, uncertain what to do, until from the crowd of youths comes a yell: "Hah! Hah!...Toro!" The bulls lower their heads, charge the crowd. The crowd takes to its heels, the bulls stampeding in pursuit. – Ernest Hemingway (edited for brevity)
Today we take on the bulls at Pamplona!
(Our machismo knows no limits.)
Dave has donned a red jacket, preparatory for the occasion.
Plaza de Toros: The grandaddy of all bull-fighting stadiums.
Our mighty matador is looking for a fight (corrida).
He just knew that red "cape" would come in handy.
Fearless Dave, fighting the fiercest bull in Pamplona.
We escaped from the Plaza de Toros with no loss of blood,
only two red mementos from a man painting the arena walls.
On to the Cathedral of Santa Maria Real in Old Town!
Most of it was built during the 14th and 15th centuries.
The interior is pretty awe-inspiring.
The altar and chapel have a gothic air.
Do you think the other pilgrims would call this cheating?
#ifthefeetfail
One of many narrow roads we traveled.
The weary warriors walked only 6.2 miles on rest day.
Two cool Camino dudes in front of our Pamplona hotel.
Tomorrow we return to long hikes and modest lodgings.
A story from Dave: We were in a fairly remote section of the Camino, between cities, when we noticed a few groups of pilgrims sitting on rocks and eating apples and oranges. We then came upon a man of what appeared to be modest means who had a wooden box, filled with fruit and sodas. The man had obviously carried this heavy box full of food quite a long way. After we had passed by a few yards, Mike stopped, reached into his pocket for a bill, and returned to the man. Handing him the money, he said, "Buen Camino" and walked on. One can learn a lot from watching Mike.
A story from Mike: Not long ago, we passed a blind pilgrim being led by a sighted one. I couldn't help but think what a blessing it must be for a man with those particular limitations to be hiking the Camino: to feel, smell, and taste the Camino in all its colors, despite being unable to see. How often we take our gifts for granted, and this unsighted man offers a great lesson to all. At various times I have complained about my "poor knees and feet." Sometimes I murmur about my bad ears, but this fellow walker has shown me how powerful it can be to "Just do it."
In Pamplona, a Hemingway quote is appropriate:
"Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when
you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much
as possible to be wholly alive with all your might..."
Our blind friend has already mastered this;
maybe we can do a little more of the same.
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