As Herman’s Hermits famously sang:
Woke up this morning feelin’ fine
Got the Camino on my mind
Last night I took my girl down Pamplona way
Next thing I know she’s snogging Ernest Hemingway
After a communal breakfast with the lovely crew at Urdaniz, we were the last to leave the hostal following a serious bout of fannying around by yours truly. Sometimes you just have to take time with your rucksack strap adjustments. We hit the road at just after half past eight. It was cold but not for too long. Once again, my knees were on display and looking extremely attractive.
Today’s walk into Pamplona was always going to be the least painful day thus far. Eleven miles of relatively gentle descent, pretty much following the River Arga into Pamplona through woodland paths and trails. Mrs C and I have been to Pamplona before and we were looking forward to re-acquainting ourselves with the numerous pintxos (tapas) bars in and around the city centre.
We deserved a treat so we had a hotel room booked right in the city centre. Having checked in at 2.00 p.m. we caught up with the necessary washing of grundies etc and then hit (okay, meekly brushed?) the town at around 4.30 p.m. First to Bar Goucho for a couple of beers and pintxos then on to a second bar where we sat on stools at a high table, looking out onto the street, when who should see and join us but Michael, our Swiss doctor friend who we met last night. I think I’m beginning to develop a man crush on Michael so it was no surprise when I invited him to join us on a quick reccy of the Cathedral before we located another bar where we were joined by Gwendolyn and Danny who we had been bumping into regularly since Orisson. However, before too long respective needs must and Michael needed a proper dinner, I needed a beer and Gwendolyn and Danny probably needed to escape so Mrs C and I headed back in the general direction of our hotel. And then it nearly all went horribly wrong.
Our next venue saw us bump into Swiss couple Charles and Trudi who were at Orisson with us, not that we had opportunity to properly meet at the time. Anyway, they were very excited having earlier visited Cafe Iruna where writer and serial womaniser Ernest Hemingway hangs out so, after we finished our beers and another modest round of pintxos, they took us to said cafe. Being the ever considerate bloke that I am, I’m busy getting the beers in whilst Mrs C is powdering her nose. So, halfway through my beer and I’m thinking “that girl of mine’s been a long time” so off I go to try find her. Imagine my surprise when I happen upon this;
It was a relief when Mrs C subsequently explained that, minus her reading glasses she had inadvertently mistaken Mr Hemingway for me. Oh how we laughed at my paranoid jumping to ridiculous assumptions.
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