Of bullfights, pinics, and a quick jaunt to France

Well, I’m sitting at the bus station in Pamplona; my students have commandeered all the available computer kiosks to work on class assignments.  Our bus for St. Jean leaves in about an hour.   We had a number of logistical things to deal with today n dim happy to say: so far so good.  Our train from Madrid left at 7:35 this morning, so last night I begged, pleaded, cajoled, threatened, and harangued the students into being downstairs and ready to leave the hotel at 6:30.  They almost succeeded and we were hopping on the Metro at 6:45. Then, another minor heart attack when I realized I had never confirmed that our train was leaving from Atocha rather than Chamartin, but we were safe there as well.  The train ride was swift and uneventful – so unlike my first Spanish train ride to Lisbon in 1988 – and we arrived in Pamplona on schedule.  After a walk of 1.5 miles we found the bus station (though as usual, it was neither where it was supposed to be, nor well-marked).  So, here we are, and if all continues to go well, we’ll be in St. Jean in a couple of more hours.  While I’m always sad to leave Madrid, I’m excited to get on the Camino.

The trip to the bull farm was a big success.  We rode around the farm and swathe different types of bulls, then two bullfighters gave us a lesson in bullfighting and then put on a demonstration/practice bullfight.  I’ve included some pictures here.  The kids seemed to enjoy it-even those who were fairly anti-bullfighting.  Then the owners of the ranch cooked a nice meal for us, and we headed back to Madrid. Unfortunately, the real bullfight was rather a disappointment, with indifferent bulls and very young fighters who seemed more interested in acting frustrated and put upon than actually doing their jobs.  Oh well. The kids seemed to enjoy it just the same.

Monday was a free day, which was a good thing, because I stayed up till 5 am watching the NBA Finals.  Since the kids were working on their Madrid itineraries, my Assistant Director, Drake, one of my students, Henry, and I packed a picnic and rode the cable car over into the old Royal Hunting Grounds and picnicked by the lake.  It was a great afternoon, filled with Iberico Ham, Chorizo, fresh cherries (which are in season right now), and other good foods. Then, we went to a Flamenco show that night.  I always appreciate the showmanship and skill, but Flamenco is not my favorite thing in the world.  Drake and I finished up our evening by having dinner with Javi at my favorite restaurant in Madrid: Casa Julian de Tolosa.  Two words: Giant Steaks.  ‘Nuff said.

Yesterday was our last day trip, to Avila and Segovia.  We had a couple of minor snafus: we could not find the bus in the morning because the Police had run him off.  The driver also relied a little too heavily on his GPS and exhibited the typical Spanish aversion to toll roads, which meant the normally hour long trip to Avila took nearly two. When we arrived in Avila, we realized that our tours had been reversed: Segovia in the morning, and Avila in the afternoon, so we frantically called the guides and got things sorted out.  After heading to Segovia, we lunched there, and our tour was impeded by 200 children in the Alcazar.  Apparently it was school group day.  But we made it home to Madrid, exhausted, about 8 o’clock.  By the end of the day, the kids were struggling; I think the late nights and World Cup matches (which run till 3am because of the time zone thingy), and I’ll admit, I was getting a bit frustrated, lest the guide interpret it as disrespect.  But, I tried to be calm, and patient, and objective, and not rip anyone a new one…

OK, time to board a bus.  I have a feeling the adventure is just beginning!  Buen Camino!