How many people have told me that the Camino is on their list too? Lots. And lots. So for this reason you'll be reading a blog that is dotted with useful info, as well as a charming (or less than charming) "Dallice perspective".
Overnight, my United flight took me from the east coast of the US, across the ocean and into Spain. The flight was just under 6 hours... Barely enough time to get 3 hours sleep before breakfast was served and the descent commenced. At 7:15 am local time, I was awoken to "good morning! " and the sound of a 270 lb drinks cart bustling past my elbow. The flight attendant, with his dark, flawless skin, was unreasonably chipper and he didn't even seem to notice the cabin going from dimmed to bright white - at 11:15 pm Denver time!
Actually I think this display accurately depicts how it feels to have a night that is cut short by 6 hours and subsequently being thrust into daylight.
Yes, 11:15 pm Denver time was just about when I realized that combining 2 flights and 2 train trips for a 24 hour journey through to Pamplona was a bad move. The result, no doubt, of someone who was either negligent, naive or overly enthusiastic when she began travel planning! Practically speaking, I was now staring into a bathroom mirror and barely recognizing the pale face framed by unruly hair, that stared back. Note to self; I could smile more.
Minutes later I glanced out the window on the other side of the aisle and was astonished to see Spanish terra firma so close... I touched down in Barcelona. Winds light and variable, high overcast, 60 degrees.
Clearing passport control at 9 am with 400 other people meant it wasn't quick. My backpack, bagged in plastic by a helpful United ticket agent, was already on carousel 14. It was not crowded there and since customs was literally a non-event, I found the nearest salida/exit. See, learning Spanish already! :)
Just outside on the concourse, I found tourist info, got a map and brief directions and used an ATM to procure Euros.
Downstairs to the free shuttle to terminal 2B and 10 minutes later I was queuing for a ticket on the train to Sants Estacion -The downtown Barcelona train station, where the train to Pamplona leaves from. That's another queue and another ticket of course.
Within 30 minutes I had used my map and rudimentary knowledge of the Barcelona Metro to direct another couple of tourists! (Let's hope I got it right. LOL. I make no guarantees and you get what you pay for.)
Sants Estacion is airport-like. Wide open concourse with polished floors, shopping, dining, ticketing. Few places to sit. I ordered a "multicereal" baguette. Inside, a hefty chunk of brie lay sideways with its bed fellow, the prosciutto. It afforded me a seat in the cafes dining area and I used the time to get my phone back up and running on the Spanish network. After figuring out the bathrooms cost money and not having the brain space to learn the paying and ticketing machines, I decided to wander outside for some fresh air instead. (Of course I know that emptying ones bladder and breathing air are not interchangeable in every situation, but apparently I have physiology that allows for compromises, so why waste it.) FYI, fresh air doesn't exist when half the Spaniards in Barcelona smoke! The view wasn't bad though.
From the train to Pamplona, I now write. Actually, I just woke from a short nap. The conductor was standing over me, asking me in Spanish if my destination was Pamplona. (I understand a lot of Spanish when I'm tired, it seems). That soothing "train on rails" rhythm could be my undoing. My eyes are HEAVY and my brain is dim. Not sure where the train goes after Pamplona, but there is a better than average chance I will find out today, if I can't hold it together a bit longer!
Update: Off the train in Pamplona, I enjoyed a mile long walk uphill to my hotel. Located just inside the old, walled part of the city, it's everything I hoped it would be. Medieval looking... cobblestoned streets, iron balconies with baskets of flowering geraniams. Tiled rooves, steeples containing bells that ring!
A long shower and the mandatory washing of socks and underwear was followed by a short nap, turned long nap... I'm resetting and will be up early tomorrow instead.
Tomorrow I'll explore Pamplona! :)
Sants Estacion is airport-like. Wide open concourse with polished floors, shopping, dining, ticketing. Few places to sit. I ordered a "multicereal" baguette. Inside, a hefty chunk of brie lay sideways with its bed fellow, the prosciutto. It afforded me a seat in the cafes dining area and I used the time to get my phone back up and running on the Spanish network. After figuring out the bathrooms cost money and not having the brain space to learn the paying and ticketing machines, I decided to wander outside for some fresh air instead. (Of course I know that emptying ones bladder and breathing air are not interchangeable in every situation, but apparently I have physiology that allows for compromises, so why waste it.) FYI, fresh air doesn't exist when half the Spaniards in Barcelona smoke! The view wasn't bad though.
From the train to Pamplona, I now write. Actually, I just woke from a short nap. The conductor was standing over me, asking me in Spanish if my destination was Pamplona. (I understand a lot of Spanish when I'm tired, it seems). That soothing "train on rails" rhythm could be my undoing. My eyes are HEAVY and my brain is dim. Not sure where the train goes after Pamplona, but there is a better than average chance I will find out today, if I can't hold it together a bit longer!
Update: Off the train in Pamplona, I enjoyed a mile long walk uphill to my hotel. Located just inside the old, walled part of the city, it's everything I hoped it would be. Medieval looking... cobblestoned streets, iron balconies with baskets of flowering geraniams. Tiled rooves, steeples containing bells that ring!
Tomorrow I'll explore Pamplona! :)
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