Thursday, May 20, 2021

The Disorientation of Arrival

Madrid.  Barcelona.  Lisbon.  Porto.  Always, in Pamplona; though I have arrived here many times, I inevitably get lost.

2019 - It's hot and dark when I get off the shuttle in Barcelona.  The directions sounded easy when I read them via email.  Yet when I arrive in the Plaza it's night.  Crowded, and inexplicably to my eyes, really dark.  There are multiple streets veering away, and I'm overdressed for the heat and exertion of carrying the backpack through the crowds.  I stop at each street to look at the name, but don't find the one I am looking for.  Finally, I enter a hotel to ask, thankfully, the woman speaks English, what I need is a bus going in the right direction.  Also, I was considering just staying at the hotel instead of trying to find my way in the dark, but I think it's full.  I make it to the right corner, and catch a bus, and then don't know which stop to get off on.  The driver barks at me, but some other tourists tell me the correct stop.  After I get off the bus, I spend another 45 minutes looking for the hostel.  Walking past the entrance multiple times because 1) it isn't well marked, and 2) by it's odd number, I wrongly assume it should be on the other side of the street.  By the time I get situated, the only place open for food is McDonald's.  All that being said, it was a nice hostel, and walking into the center of the city and back does bring me past two of the Gaudi buildings.

The next night, I inexplicably find my way back, in the dark, after bar hopping across the city in a tapas crawl, where I had way more fun than I imagined I could.  This is due to a large crowd of people that decided to join that evening, and how open everyone was.  Also, it was just stupid fun.

I'll have to go back some day.  I spent my one free day on a long walking tour of the Gothic Quarter, high on information, low on actually seeing anything.  And then buying a sim card, searching for a fountain my dad had taken a picture of back in the 1970's, and then looking for the bus station so I could buy a bus ticket to Pamplona for the next day.  For the record, it's across the street from the train station, a bit deserted and seedy by comparison.

My experiences

Sometime back in the 90's I dreamed of going to Barcelona.  Probably after that point, I read "The Pilgrimage" by Paulo Coelho, and decided I also wanted to walk the Camino de Santiago.  It took until 2005 to make the pilgrimage a reality, and until 2019 to finally make it to both Barcelona and St. Jean Pied-de-Port in France to finally cross over the Pyrenees. I shall share memories from each stage I walked, not chronologically, as I've walked multiple times between 2005-2019, but what I felt and learned along the way, while I still remember.