Today was our last day in Pamplona, and, coincidentally, the last day of the Sanfermines. The plan was to go to the much-acclaimed beachtown of San Sebastian. Robbie, a Tufts student who's travelling Europe before doing a year of study abroad (lucky guy), who's stayiing in the same place we have been in Pamplona joined us. It was a day of promises of a beautiful beach town, combined with the promise of delicious pintxos, or Basque tapas.

We got up early to meet Robbie (he was watching the running of the bulls today - the last run of the year), and then headed out for the bus. We decided first to get a breakfast of accalimed churros con chocolate. At 4 Euro for each of us, it wasn't a particularly good deal, but it was tasty. To complain a bit, the churros started to get to be a bit heavy on the oil, and the chocolate was a bit too choclatey for me, but all in all, not a bad breakfast.

We headed to the bus stop (with which Michelle and I were now familiar after the near-fiasco yesterday). Today, however, as it was the last day of the festival, the bus station was just packed. We got the tickets and found our bus, but it appeared that it was running late. So they sent a second bus that took a huge hoarde of people out to San Sebastian. The countryside on the way, again, looked a bit like the Central Valley back home in California.

We got off the bus at San Sebastian, found the river right next to the bus terminal, and followed it out to see. The city was beautiful, and really looked more French in its architectural style than it did Spanish. The shoreline itself was beautfil, with a large carved-out sandy beach, surrounded by large resort hotels (eg the Hotel Londres), facing a nearby island. A hill nearby featured a giant Jesus statue overlooking the city. We wandered around the alleyways a bit and headed down to the beach. Michelle get her toes wet in the water, while Robbie and I stood around in our shoes. Personally, I was just too lazy to change into flip flops, so I just stood around.

The real highlight of San Sebastian, though, awaited us back in the alleyways. In the Lonely Planet guide, I'd read that regions of Spain all vie for best dishes, but apparently all admit that San Sebastian's a cut above the rest. I don't question that at all. We decided to do some pintxo hopping and were rewarded. We started out at this one bar, pretty confused. Let me set the scene: the bar is filled with plates, each filled with food - each plate features one type of bite sized morsel. Half of these clearly are raw, and the other half, ready to eat. A little confused, Robbie (who speaks better Spanish than either of us) asks for clarification. The guys behind the counter (a Spaniard, and a short-tempered German) end up explain it to us in English. Here's the clue if you don't want to be as confused as I was. Grab a plate, load it up with what you want to eat, and show them. They'll keep track of it and charge you when you leave. For the raw stuff -- get a separate plate for those, and hand it to them to cook. They'll bring that out to you on a plate when you're seated.

The food was delicious. I started off with some sort of tuna on a slice of bread, a skewer of shrimp, and various other tasty dishes. It was all very good, and we paired it with some wine. A very nice local lady whom Robbie had asked for help, came by before she left to check on us. Robbie asked her for some recommendations, and so we got a few more places to try.

The next place was really fancy looking. A black chalkboard and menus (available in English, French, and Spanish) tell you what's available, unlike the last place. We had some pork shoulder, and a little Kobe slider - both of which were quite good, and again, went down well with wine.

The third place was one that was famous for its veal cheeks. We had some of those - not too shabby, and a dessert, which was, a bit too chocolatey for me. After this, we relaized we had little time before the bus we had to take back to Pamplona in order to make our train to Barcelona.

I think we worked off our Pintxos in our mad sprint to the bus. We bought our tickets for our bus ride back to Pamplona (our bus pulled away probably 5 minutes after we got our tickets), and Robbie got tickets for his bus to Bilbao to check out the Guggenheim. We parted ways, and Michelle and I headed back to Pamplona.

We took it slow once we got back, went back to get our stuff, and headed out to the train station. Taxis don't actually come close to where we stayed, as it was in the old town, and was made only of narrow alleys, so we decided it was just as convenient to walk, as the weather wasn't too bad.

We made it to the station, and met a few new people on the train. We were seated in a set of four seats, with each pair facing each other with a table in between. Across from us was a guy from DC named Chris, who had run with the bulls on Friday (and actually had pet the bull that gored the guy who died!), Daniel (a USMC), and his wife Veronica. They were interesting company, and we talked to them for most of the 4 hour train ride.

Once we got into Barcelona, we hopped onto the Metro and headed to our room. This place (Casa de Billy) was a nice apartment whose owner rented out rooms to travellers. The nice furniture, decorations, and other accoutrements were a nice upgrade from the Pamplona residences. After a short break, we headed out for food. Unfortunately, Inopia (a recommendation from my friend Craig) was already closed for the night, so we ate at a random bar type place for dinner, for some regular Spanish tapas, and of course, Sangria. this time, it was Sangria de Caba (champagne instead of red wine), a specialty of the region.

Off to bed, because tomorrow is Bari Gotic exploration day!

So this was it, the acclaimed day.
Today was the day we'd be watching the encierro (running of the bulls). Today was our Ernest Hemingway bull fighting day.
After waking up at 6:30AM, a mere 3 hours after hearing the still blaring sounds of bands in the streets, we wandered over to the infamous Estefeta curve (aka Dead Man's Curve). Our rented balcony (also rented through bullbalcony.com) overlooked the curve, so up we went.

The atmosphere was amazing. I've never seen so many people so excited this early in the morning. People were perched up on fences and staking out spots. We wandered around our fence and waiting at the door to our building. We were let in by this nice lady whose husband's family has owned the building for years, and she showed us to our balcony. It was right off a nicely appointed room with a bed and a tv! She turned on the tv to the national news, which was covering the sanfermines LIVE.

We were later joined by Jackie, an HK native turned Aussie who was touring Europe with some time off. We waiting about an hour, and watched the TV coverage, as they reviewed yesterday's race. It had a nascar feel to itas they constantly replayed (both forward and backward) any football where a runner was getting hit or trampled.

Down on the streets, the camera crews were prepping, and the streets were clearing. Then, the streets started filling up again, this time in an orderly manner, and from the start. These people were the runners. Here's something I learned: people don't run the entire course. People spread out throughout the course and plant themselves along the run. When the bulls get near you, you run with or in front of them for awhile, before eventually running off to the side. This lasts for only a few meters.

Finally the race began! From the TV, we watched the official start. We could hear from the house of burghers the official setting off the first rocket to signify that the gates had opened. A second rocket was fired to signify that all bulls had left their pen. Eventually, the crowds below us began to shift. Since we were on a curve, we couldn't see the track before the curve, but all of a sudden, the crowd starts moving, and then -- a set of horns, and the first bull turned the corner. All 6 were right there, and all made the Dead Man's Curve without a problem. And then they passed by under us, and it was over in a flash. As quickly as I thought it would end, this was even faster. So, while the atmosphere was exciting, the event itself was brief.

After the steer came through, it was time to descend.WE got some sandwiches from a convenience store for breakfast, and took an early siesta, or a resumption of the previous night's sleep.

We got up just before 1 to inquire at the visitor information desk about busses to Olite, a small town about an hour away, and to pick up our bull fighting tickets (which we had also bought through bullbalcony.com). The ticket price on the ticket was only about 30Euro, about half of what we had paid bullbalcony. Oh well, I guess that's the price you pay to take care of it before getting here.

We headed over to Pamplona's main bus terminal and waited on the street. After a few minutes, we thought it was weird that this main bus terminal was only 2 bus stops on the street, and decided to try going underground. There was an entrance with escalators and stairs, but we had originally thought it was a small shopping mall. Wrong -- downstairs is the actual regional bus terminal where the coach busses line up.

So, now we're down there, and really late for the bus we're aiming for. We ran by a bunch of different busses, and found out that the one we wanted had just started backing out. We hailed the driver and got him to stop to let us on, but he was clearly annoyed that we hadn't already bought our tickets from the ticket counter. Luckily, he let us buy some from him, and we were on our way.

Olite is an old town, and the ancient seat of the kings of Navarre. This quanit clean, beautiful town was a huge change of pace, and a nice respite from the loud, dirty streets of Pamplona overrun with sanfermines revellers.

We walked around the town (that takes all of about 15 minutes), had a nice sitdown lunch, and took a tour of the old royal palace. The palace has been well restored and gives you a good feeling about how these kings iand queens lived. The gardens are well kept, and there are sweeping views of the town and the countryside from the ramparts.

After the bus ride back to Pamplona, it was time for the bullfight. The atmosphere was amazing. Once you step in, it feels like a college football game. The sounds and energy are contagious. Eventually, the stands filled up, anbd it was time to start.

This is a very ceremonial sport. It opened up with two horsemen who ran around the ring, making two passes at each other. Next the matadors, picadores, and banderilleros come out and get introduced in a large group. Once they clear out, they bring in the first bull.

He charges in and seems a bit confused when he enters the large ring to cheering crowds. The matador and banderilleros run him around with the capes in the first round. The a drum cadence announce the next stage: the picadores. These are pike-wielding guys mounted on horses who wear these protective shields. The bull then charges at the horse, and the picador jabs the pike into the bull's back. This is done twice, and results in blood gushing down the bull's shoulder.

After two holes are made, another drum cadence sends these two horsemen out of the ring. Next came the matador (in other rounds, the matador didn't do this part, but rather, the separate banderilleros) holding banderillas -- barbed sticks with flags on the ends. He taunts the bull to make him charge and then jabs a pair of these banderillas into its back. This is done two more times, until the bull has 6 flags jab into his back.

Finally, the famous matador part starts. The bull at this point is gushing blood from his shoulder, streaming down his back. It's no wonder they pick bulls with dark hides -- its makes the blood a bit harder to see. He's also got blood coming out of his mouth. The first one exhibits a lot of showmanship and enjoys posing with the cape. He encourages the bull to charge him, and when eventually, when he approaches, he stabs the sword into his back, resulting in very racous cheering. The first jab doesn't quite kill the bull, so the matador pulls it out and jabs it back in -- this time, so far in, you can only barely see the hilt remaining.

When the bull falls over on its side, the crowd breaks out into applause and cheering, and the bands kick up into a flurry of music. It reminds me of some Harry Potter movie when someone wins a quidditch match. Someone comes otu to stab the bull in the head witih a dagger, and horses are brought out to drag the bloodied bull out of the arena. The fights take a curtain call and a lap around the ring. The next 5 fights are pretty much the same. Highlights - the matador in the second fight got tossed around a bit, and loses his pants and fights the rest of it in jeans. The 5th bull gets injured and replaced, and his replacement is too good for his fighters, who struggle to pin in the banderillas and are roundly booed by the audience.

So, the bullfighting experience was interesting. The atmosphere was fun, and the rituals were interesting to take in. The fight itself was, as a friend had put it, as disturbing as it gets without being gory.

After the fights, we decided to get Chinese food for dinner. We concluded that most of the places weren't going to be serving amazing food, but rather, would be focused just on getting enough food to service the thousands of people in town.

Upon arriving at our room, I chatted with Robbie, a college student from Tufts who was roaming around Europe a bit before meeting up with family for a trip to South Africa (my 2010 trip, hopefully!). We decided that tomorrow, we'd all head out for a trip to San Sebastian to check out the sea and the pintxos (Basque tapas) we'd heard so much about. So after a long talk (wherein I draw shock by not having seen Goonies, yet again), we head to bed to get ready to get up for the trip out to the sea.

The morning started off a bit on the hectic side, as we woke up a bit later than we had planned due to some overzealous snoozing of some overambitious alarms. However, we were still fine during our subway ride over to the Atoche Renfe station.

Although we were still a good four hours out from Pamplona, the sanfermines atmosphere was in the air. A group of 20 men were dressed in full sanfermines attire: white pants, white t-shirts, with red bandanas around their necks. Once the train got rolling, they made their way to the food car, just behind my seat. After some happy chatting, they soon broke out into song after song, complete with musical accompaniment. The atmosphere continued once we arrived at Pamplona. The train station was packed with revelers, both coming and going. One half-clothed guy was trying to get his ticket out of a machine. Clearly drunk, he spent the entire time we were in line to buy our next train tickets in front of the machine, with his equally drunk friends coming by to help out. I'm not sure he ever figured it out.... This drunken confusion was just a taste of what was coming.

We decided to walk to our hotel, since we assumed busses would be crowded and gross, and since I had just discovered I was getting 3G on my phone and we didn't look THAT far from our destination on the map. It was slightly warm, but the walk wasn't bad.

The old town that forms the heart of Pamplona is pretty much like a typical older European city, complete with cobblestone streets and narrow alleys. Atypical, however, were the crowds of reverles, and constant stream of street cleaners that were barely able to keep up with the former group. Bands played all sorts of songs (including "When the saints go marching in") while we waited to get let into our hotel. After trekking up to our 5th floor (European 5th, so that's SIX flights of stairs) room we had reserved via Bullbalcony.com, we rested for a bit. The room is... well, a small room with two cots, and an Ikea chest. Again, Spartan, but clean. The same went for the shared bathrooms. Although, unlike Euromadrid, this place did not come with towels and was easily 3 times the price. I guess that's the price you pay for proximity (excellent location) to one of the world's most popular festivals.

After a brief rest, it was time to explore the city. We wandered around all the old parts of the city, all of which were filled with throngs of people, singing, dancing, but mostly, drinking. We stopped at the Plaza del Castillo for lunch, as it was a bit less crazy. Crowded, definitely, but with fewer unmanageabley drunk people.

Since we'd had no veggies so far, we ordered a tomato salad (which just ended up bineg a plate of sliced tomatoes in olive oil) and a conejo stew. Oh yeah, and of course, a pitcher of sangria. This is, of course, Spain.

The rabbit was pretty good, and the tomato, while simple, wasn't too bad either.

After sitting and slowly enjoying the rest of the sangria, our exploration continued. We went to the bullfighting arena that we'll be returning to tomorrow, and wandered out of the old part of the city. The streets were filled with performers, including one group that basically amounted to a hippie drum circle. Fun to listen to, though.



A walk through the rest of the city wore us out, and we indulged in our favorite Spanish tradition again - la siesta. Of course, all that sleeping just made us hungry, so we went back to the Plaza del Castillo, and sat at another outdoor cafe and had stew again. This time, it was ox tail stew, and Michelle, who was really hankering for veggies, got a veggie sandwich. Vegetarians beware: veggie sandwich comes with tuna.

Time for an early sleep tonight, tomorrow we run with the bulls! Ok, fine. Tomorrow, we watch other people run with the bulls! Sleeping early may not be easy, as the bands and hordes of drunks are still running around tonight, and 6 floors up, it's still pretty loud.

After a long flight (SFO to LHR, LHR to MAD), and a ridiculous long transfer at Heathrow (a tram ride, 2 bus rides, and countless escalators up and down), we made it to Madrid.

Once we landed, more travel was in store. Various trams, escalators, elevators (including one that we took down and then up, even though I'm pretty sure I only pressed up) was the thing to do at the airport. Also, some Spanish speaking leady who wasn't sure where to go kept looking at me and asking me questions about where to go. While flattered that someone might mistake me for a local, all I could muster was a pleasantly confused this-place-is-confusing-and-I-share-your-confusion look, and a polite "no sey".

The subway to Gran Via took awhile too, as we had to transfer a few times. We checked into the Euromadrid hotel, and found our room to be small, spartan, but clean, and with a working A/C.

After making like Spaniards and enjoying an hour-long siesta, it was time to explore Madrid.



A quick walk south led to the Puerta del Sol, the heart of Madrid. I snapped a quick picture of the bear and tree statue that is the symbol of Madrid. The rest of the plaza seemed to be under construction. A few minutes later, we were in the Plaza Mayor, a stunning and large plaza surrounded on all four sides by one building -- kind of like the courtyard of a quad. It really reminded me of the Piazza San Marco in Venice, minus all the pigeons. The street vendors dressed in various Disney costumes (Mickey, several Minnies, and a few Poohs) kind of freaked me out though.

The Mercado de San Miguel was a cool modern semi-enclosed area with counters selling all sorts of seafood, meats, ice cream, jams, etc. We had some ice cream there, which was perfect for the warm day.

Next was La Latina for a tapas crawl. Allemania 13 was the lonely planet recommendation. I ordered three plates, which really did in the "crawl" part. 3 plates is totally enough to feed 4, and way too much for 2. The pastel de carne was good, the patatas imperra was ok, and the lomo con ajo was too salty. By the way, apparently, at this place, patatas = potato chips. Like Lays chips.



After working at the ridiculous piles of food for an hour, Michelle decided to offer our sumptious looking leftovers to this group of 4 Spanish guys who had been looking over at our table. In hindsight, they were probably gawking at the crazy Asian people who ordered too much food. They did, expectedly, decline to eat our leftovers.

To finish our tour of the city, we looped around to swing by the front of the Plaza Real and a stroll through the Plaza de Oriente, admiring statues of various Spanish monards. Coming upon the Teatro Real, we stumbled into some fancy event, as the area in front of the theater was crowded with people in very nice clothes.

We then went through the giant Plaza de Espana, walking through a busy park with nice, cooling fountains, and into the Malasana district. The Plaza del 2 de Mayo was filled with bars with many outdoor tables, so we put our name down (my self-given Spanish name is now Juan) and then grabbed a couple of beers and enjoyed them in the evening air.

AFter that drink, we headed over to La Chueca to grab another. We failed to find a place though, and just wandered through the neighborhood before returning to Gran Via and grabbing beers (Bitte ein Bit!) and flan before turning in and calling it a night.

Tomorrow, time to wake up nice and early to head over to the Renfe Atoche station and off to Pamplona and the sanfermines!

As I have been remiss on my past few trips on posting anything here, I'll try to be more diligent this time. I'm off to Spain today (Pamplona, Barcelona, and Madrid), and I should have some internet access. If I can, I'll be posting updates and pictures right here over the next week and a half!