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Friday, March 08, 2002 I'm sitting in an internet joint in Pamplona, the capital of Navarra. A lovely city, as it turns out. The airport: a tiny outpost a few kilometers outside the municipality, in the middle of a long, sweeping plateau around which are ranged an impressive array of mountains. They tossed us off the plane onto the sunlit tarmac, late-afternoon temperature around 60. A brisk breeze ruffled clothes, distant peaks sported crowns of clouds, showing the white of snow. Inside the terminal, Spaniards talked into cell-phones, baggage slowly appeared, two members of the Guardia Civil kept an eye on us travelers. I grabbed a taxi, and as we approached the city, Pamplona revealed itself to be a long, modestly-sized urban sprawl skirting foothills. Pretty, and prettier the deeper into it the drive went, until we reached the city's beautiful old section, where I'm staying. Checked in at the hostal, went back out into the evening light, took a stroll to get a sense of the neighborhood. Old, narrow streets, shops on the ground floor, pisos above, most with the requisite floor-to-ceiling french-style doors fronted by full-length shutters and a balcón. Some residents had caged canaries out on their balcones, singing their hearts out in the evening air. There are more footwear stores here than any city has a right to have. My barrio in Madrid is the same -- how they all survive I can't say. Also, like Madrid, there are many, many places to get tapas, wine, beer and more serious, more substantial food. Numerous bakeries (pastelerías). And a condom shop -- La Condonería (er, 'The Condom Shop'). There are also harsh handbills taped up all over the place protesting the recent detaining by Spanish police of a number of people connected with ETA, the terrorist/separatist group based in el País Vasco -- the Basque Country -- that has an unfortunate habit of leaving bombs in places they shouldn't. "Dejad en paz," say the handbills, "a la joventud de Euskal Herría, fascistas!" ("Leave the Basque Country youth in peace, fascists!") My friend Curtis, clearly far more resourceful than I'd ever pegged him as being (and I swear I mean that in only the most positive, most appreciative way), just tracked me down, found me hiding here. We will now adjourn for an evening of tapas and related activities. Maybe more later in the weekend. Be well. rws 2:47 PM [+]
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