No bull in Pamplona. Glad to Return to Barcelona!

Pamplona, a lovely town in the Navarre province is famous for the running of the bulls in July during the Fiestas de San Fermin. Here, brave and yes, perhaps even foolhardy young men, run through the streets ahead of them while they try desperately to avoid getting hitting hit. It´s a tranquil and pleasant enough place; however, during the bull run, the town swells with thousands of people, both spectators and runners, many of whom revel in the partying and thrill-seeking this event provides. It began to rain when our guide Gary took us to the street where the event takes place. There are no bulls here until another three weeks. I tried to imagine what the atmosphere might be like during the San Fermin celebration--the fierce bulls, the runners trying to dodge them, the bystanders screaming wildly, the utter chaos of it all.

Barcelona

We had some free time here, and then it was onward to Barcelona, a jewel of a city on the Mediterranean. It was going to be a long ride --about 700 kilometers. Most of us relaxed, slept and/or watched some DVD´S Gary brought. We made a couple of stops along the way, and we finally arrived around 8 pm. Much to our disappointment, our hotel was 17 kilometers from the city in an industrial zone. Luckily, there was a bus we could catch around the corner from the hotel. I couldn´t bear the thought of turning in early just because we were a bit far from the action. They don´t call me la callejera for nothing! Some of us decided to check out the city and hit the streets. About 10 pm Sonia, Richard, Valerie, Sandra, Shanelle, Steve and I caught the bus to Plaza Espana, then took the metro to Plaza Cataluyna where we would begin our walk down the world famous boulevard Las Ramblas. There were lots of folks still out and about, but since it was Sunday, the scene was more sedate. Also the Barcelona soccer team had just lost to Real Madrid, so people were not in a mood for celebration. As one bartender remarked later in the evening ¨Estamos de luto. (We´re in mourning)

We walked down Las Ramblas to the port which now sported an expansive boardwalk with some chic bars and restaurants. We hoped to have a drink by the water at one of them, but they were all closing up. Back on Las Ramblas we found a quiet place and ordered drinks and tapas. Richard and I split a bottle of vino tinto. I suggested we try a local wine because the region of Cataluyna produces some of the best in Spain. Our waiter brought us a bottle of Los Coroneos which was similar to a shiraz. We both thought it was an excellent choice. At about 130 am we decided to catch el buho (the owl bus) home and returned to Plaza Catalunya. Much to our surprise the driver took a convoluted route home and we didn´t get back until after 3 am. All in all though, I spent a very enjoyable evening with great company.

I first visited Barcelona in 1986 during my maiden trip to Europe and fell in love with it. I spent four magical days here, and was so happy to return. As I have walked the streets today and visited familiar sites, a flood of happy memories emerges from my mind.

More to come on Barcelona