On one of my past trips to Spain and Barcelona I toured via a clockwise loop that took me from Barcelona through the regions of Aragon, La Rioja and Pais Basque before stopping in Pamplona in the region of Navarra. Pamplona was only about an hour away from the coastal city of San Sabastien in Pais Basque and the Autopista took me back into the mountains which are now heavily blanketed with snow. So much so that I almost got stuck at an isolated auto stop in the mountains. At this particular road stop I am afforded a most spectacular view of a village below sparkling in the late afternoon sun.
To arrive in Pamplona is to descend from the mountains which surround the basin at 1,500 feet to the city. With a population of just under 200,000, Pamplona is similar to Logroño in La Rioja but on a slightly larger scale. It is the capital of the autonomia de Navarra which has an interesting background. Pamplona was originally settled by the ancient Vasconians, the predecessor to the Basque people, before being Romanized, then occupied for varying times by the Visigoths, Muslims, Charlemagne and the Carolignians and the French. Referred to as Iruña by Basques, today’s Pamplona is mostly influenced by the Castillians.
Today it is known for its green parks, universities and health care research. But without question, the claim to fame is the running of the bulls each morning over seven days in July during the Festival de San Fermín.
Upon my arrival I follow the yellow directional signs for hotels and choose the perfectly comfortable and adequate Hotel Leyre in the center of town. Since there is still a bit of daylight, I take a walk around the city which is mostly covered with snow, though the streets and sidewalks are clear. With the many banks and smart shops, particularly for women’s fashions, Pamplona has the look of a successful city.
Eventually I make my way into the Old City which is rather large and with great character. One could easily get lost in that maze and surely I did. With plenty of time before dinner I took my time getting re-established and finally made it back to my room a bit cold and wet.
I was having trouble deciding where to have dinner so I stopped at a nearby restaurant and tapas bar. After my first glass of Navarran wine, it seemed like having tapas for the night was a perfect idea. The restaurant, whose name I have forgotten, was a warm, convivial place with the typical wood beams and trim, masonry and wrought iron bathing in the glow of candlelight.
I enjoyed watching the ebb and flow of customers popping in for a glass of wine and tapas. The senior couple next to me lingering over tapas of seared foie gras and plated slices of jamon iberico freshly carved off the leg by the barman, glistening under the drizzle of olive oil. At one of the large wood tabled banquets were a group of four older women intermittently nibbling on slices of jamon iberico accompanied by bottles of famed Navarra rosado. A young woman doting over her grandmother at the bar. Well dressed women stopping for a quick bite before a show. The men behind the bar, professionally attired in their crisp white shirts, black tie and grey vests are busy with the guests and carving jamon iberico from the whole leg set in a brace while motherly women from the kitchen bring out fresh tapas to replenish the bar top.
When not too busy observing, I was savoring my own tapas of a hearty slice of bread rubbed with garlic then given a drizzle of oil before being topped with slices of jamon ibérico. Followed by two lengthy slices of baguette topped with freshly seared duck foie gras and the last tapa being a savory chunk of baked bacalao (salt cod) with sweet caramelized onions on a small plate. All taken with three doses of tasty red Navarra wine made from garnacha and served in quality stemware. That doesn’t seem like much to eat, but it was immensely satisfying.
The next morning started fairly early with a walk down the street for café con leche and a bocadito, a smaller version of a bocadillo, a small baguette sandwich. This one filled with scrambled egg and chorizo. While savoring my coffee and sandwich, I am enjoying the view directly across the street from the Pamplona’s famed bull ring.
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