WHITE AWNING IN THE PLAZA CASTILLO
where I nursed a drink or three,
thinking of Ernest.
Even though I'd only walked four days, in effort to relax my tired and blistered feet and to explore Pamplona, I took a "rest day". I'd stopped here last year but not for an extra day. I'd been able to sample extraordinary tapas and Rioja, but did not make time to walk the way the bulls run nor sit in the plaza and simply watch. This year, I wanted to spend more time exploring the town where Hemingway once mingled with the locals and made famous the Café Iruña. Pamplona is a grand city, full of movement and life. Here, I met with friends in my quickly growing "tribe" and enjoyed drinks as the square began to fill. Here, out and around this square, I was looking at the same sights Hemingway once did. I was most likely, no, undoubtedly, more sober than he and being in one of his favorite, old haunts conjured up the movable feast ahead.