First day on the Camino.
It is said that the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
I was no exception.
I had micro-planned myself from my home in the Beaches, Toronto to Pamplona in Northern Spain. Subway to the Red Rocket, then to Pearson Airport then to Schipol Airport then to Madrid Airport then to a Bus to Pamplona. Just under two days: went like clockwork.
But here’s the rub. I had optimistically assumed I’d be sleeping like a baby through most of it. No such luck. Wide awake for two days. So the bus leaves me, the only passenger deep underground in the Pamplona bus station alone in the dark, 6:30 am. I hoist my backpack and gingerly make my way upstairs gradually becoming aware of sleeping rubbies (winos) in the stairwells. As per my micro-plan, a cafeteria should have been open, but everything was deserted and in total darkness. I shouldered my way through some rough looking individuals to the streets of Pamplona – to find- no sign of life. No people, no cars, no nothing.
I started walking, and I walked and walked through spectacular Medeavil streets. Everything was closed, deserted like the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust. I finally came to a church with a big door with a smaller door set within it. I knocked on the small door and a priest came and led me to an enclave where a few people were adoring the Host. I joined them and the hours sped by. When I came out, the city was alive with traffic, people and activity.
Unbeknownst to me, I had come to Pamplona on a National holiday and the Spanish take their holidays seriously.
I signed into Casa Paderhorn. Everyone there seemed very unfriendly. So I thought, what the heck: went out and had lots of tapas and even more wine, staggered back at 6:00 pm, slept a solid twelve hours and started walking the next day.
And that was the beginning of the best time I ever had.
What was your first day like?
It is said that the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
I was no exception.
I had micro-planned myself from my home in the Beaches, Toronto to Pamplona in Northern Spain. Subway to the Red Rocket, then to Pearson Airport then to Schipol Airport then to Madrid Airport then to a Bus to Pamplona. Just under two days: went like clockwork.
But here’s the rub. I had optimistically assumed I’d be sleeping like a baby through most of it. No such luck. Wide awake for two days. So the bus leaves me, the only passenger deep underground in the Pamplona bus station alone in the dark, 6:30 am. I hoist my backpack and gingerly make my way upstairs gradually becoming aware of sleeping rubbies (winos) in the stairwells. As per my micro-plan, a cafeteria should have been open, but everything was deserted and in total darkness. I shouldered my way through some rough looking individuals to the streets of Pamplona – to find- no sign of life. No people, no cars, no nothing.
I started walking, and I walked and walked through spectacular Medeavil streets. Everything was closed, deserted like the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust. I finally came to a church with a big door with a smaller door set within it. I knocked on the small door and a priest came and led me to an enclave where a few people were adoring the Host. I joined them and the hours sped by. When I came out, the city was alive with traffic, people and activity.
Unbeknownst to me, I had come to Pamplona on a National holiday and the Spanish take their holidays seriously.
I signed into Casa Paderhorn. Everyone there seemed very unfriendly. So I thought, what the heck: went out and had lots of tapas and even more wine, staggered back at 6:00 pm, slept a solid twelve hours and started walking the next day.
And that was the beginning of the best time I ever had.
What was your first day like?