Pamplona, Camino Santiago

After crossing the Pyrenees, I reached Pamplona, a city I’ve heard plenty about before — Hemingway, the Running of the Bulls, the old citadel, to name a few. With my backpack still slung over my shoulders, I ignored the straps biting into my skin and wandered the streets, admiring the architectural variety from Gothic and Neoclassical to Baroque and contemporary designs.

Pamplona is the capital of the Navarre region in northern Spain, and it’s hard to think of the city without picturing the chaos of the Running of the Bulls during the San Fermin festival, when the cobbled streets of the old town come alive each July. The course runs for half a mile (875m), twisting through these alleys, where six fighting bulls and six oxen charge after brave (or foolish) runners dressed head to toe in white with bright red bandannas. The whole thing lasts only a few minutes, but I’ve been told the celebrations continue for days with music, dancing, parades, fireworks, and plenty of refreshments.

Next, I walked over to the old citadel, a huge, pentagon-shaped fortress tucked behind the city walls. It dates to the 16th century, built on the orders of King Felipe II and designed by a military engineer named Giacomo Palearo. The star-shaped points were meant to cover every possible angle of attack. It turns out that it never really saw serious battle, although Napoleon’s forces did take it once. During the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939), it was used again, but these days it’s been reclaimed by locals. Now, it sits inside a peaceful public park, with art exhibitions and cultural events filling the old stone buildings. Hard to picture soldiers marching here now.

And of course, there’s Hemingway. It feels like his shadow still lingers over Pamplona. He loved this place so much that between 1923 and 1927, he visited no less than nine times. I stopped by Café Iruña, the first place in town to have electricity and made famous by Hemingway in ‘The Sun Also Rises’. There’s even a statue of him at the bar. I had to snap a photo, half expecting him to raise a glass beside me.

Before leaving town, I took one last wander through the old quarter. The city walls, the narrow streets, the jumble of balconies and old stone buildings, it’s easy to lose track of time here. But Estella and the road ahead are calling. The Camino awaits.