Sunday, 22 September 2013

Fiestas and Siestas (Spain Part 2)

Challenge 3: Go on lots of day/weekend/many day trips (don't stay in the same place, explore, travel, wander)



Having completed my leg of the Camino de Santiago, it was time to enjoy Pamplona. The city is full of old Spanish charm and is a labyrinth of cobblestoned streets built within the city's large wall. It is on these streets that the famous running of the bulls festival takes place. Although the festival was not on while we were there, the streets were buzzing with food markets, medieval festivals and even a travelling choir. We decided to walk the route that the bull run takes in order to see the city and the large bull ring where bullfights still take place. To be honest, the stadium was a little underwhelming. Perhaps I was expecting something a little more like the bullring in Madrid which is quite spectacular, with beautiful statues and architecture. The one in Pamplona is quite a stark round structure in the middle of the city, much like any old football stadium, but you can see that it would come alive during the festival. 

After our walk we decided to enjoy some tapas and retire for my new favourite part of the day, siesta. I definitely felt that I had earned an afternoon of reading my book and resting my legs after my effort over the previous three days! Despite the rest, we were still keen to eat dinner at a normal hour rather than the Spanish way of eating around 10pm. If not from the jumble of Australian, British and New Zealand accents, the restaurant must have known we were tourists purely based on our dinner reservation time. When we were entering for dinner we were literally the only people there and the place was packed and still eating when we left after midnight. In that moment I got a sense of what my old age would be like, getting in for the early bird special at the pub.

The following day we left Pamplona and made our way to San Sebastian. This was a special trip as we were heading there to go to lunch at the three Michelin Star restaurant, Martin Berastegui. One of the people in our group had visited the restaurant the previous year and had loved it so much that he made another reservation, just in case he was in Spain. I can say with confidence that the hype was well worth it. While I wasn't brave enough to sample the 10 course tasting menu that most of the others in our group dined on, I had an amazing 3 course meal and copious amounts of gorgeous local wine. As an appetiser I had a potato soup, which sounds pretty standard but as I quickly discovered, nothing on this menu was standard. Everything was beautifully served and creatively put together. For example, the soup came with tomato to accompany it which was served in the form of a red powder along the side of the bowl. The second appetiser was a squid ink pasta ball served in a broth. We were told that the ball should be eaten in one bite otherwise it could become messy. I had misunderstood what we were eating, assuming that the pasta was dyed with squid ink when it was in fact filled with it. I did as instructed and ate it in one go, however I had pushed it to the back of my throat where it exploded and the ink went down the wrong way. Anyone who knows me well knows that this would have been a big deal for me, as I usually don't eat small round objects (yes, I know it's odd). Grapes, cherry tomatoes, pretty much anything that can burst in my mouth so to eat a ball filled with squid ink was no small feat and it didn't exactly go well!


For entree I decided to continue my brave exploration of food and ordered oysters served in coconut, kaffir lime and cucumber. I had never tried oysters before so I thought that the best way to do it would be when they're served in the thai flavours that I love. While I wouldn't go making them a regular choice, they were delicious. For mains I had red mullet served with squid ink pasta (not the exploding kind). By this point in the meal I was well and truly drunk so the novelty of having my tongue dyed black from the squid ink resulted in some very unflattering photos as well as uncontrollable giggling in the privacy of the bathroom. Last but certainly not least, was the amazing chocolate soufflé for dessert. Articulating how soft and light the soufflé was and how warm and rich the sauce tasted when it oozed out of the centre does not do it justice. Finally, when tea and coffee came around I thought it best not to ruin my meal with something as standard (and sobering) as coffee so I ordered a cheeky moscato, much to the amusement of the others at the table.
Red Mullet and Squid Ink Pasta

After lunch, in a wine fuelled haze, we headed into town to see a bit of San Sebastian. There was some sort of festival on though and the streets were filled with drunken adolescents, singing and peeing wherever they felt appropriate. We sought refuge in a pintos bar where we drank sangria, played cards and somehow managed to fit in a little tapas and pintos. 

The following day was my last day of the trip. I had the pleasure of catching up with the two friends I travelled to Budapest with and we enjoyed a lazy day together, walking along the beach and catching up on some much needed rest. That evening I had dinner with my fellow pilgrims for one last taste of the amazing food that Spain has to offer. I am so grateful for such a unique and amazing experience; not many people can say that they walked the Camino and ate at a Michelin Star restaurant all in one week!



Monday, 16 September 2013

El does El Camino de Santiago

Challenge 3: Go on lots of day/weekend/many day trips (don't stay in the same place, explore, travel, wander)




While all the rest of the staff at my school returned to work on the first Monday of September, I was lucky enough to be whisked away to France for an extra 10 days break with my dad. The trip had been organised for months and I was under the impression that we would be spending 8-9 days walking the Camino de Santiago with a day off at the end. However, I quickly discovered that travelling with my father should really come with its own manual entitled, 'Shit My Dad Doesn't Say'.

The first thing my father failed to mention was that our trip started in the gorgeous beach town of Biarritz in the south of France. As I had packed bathers I couldn't really be too annoyed at the notion of spending a day or two sprawled on the sand with the sun beaming down on me. In fact any annoyance I had seemed to disappear when I found my spot on the beach right next to the lifesaving tower. I couldn't help but notice a common theme amongst the lifeguards; apparently tanned + beautiful = good at saving lives in Biarritz. I suddenly resented my parents for buying me swimming lessons as a child...

After two days in paradise we caught a train to the little town of Saint Jean Pied de Port. This beautiful French town sits at the foot of the Pyrenees and is the beginning of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage. It was also our meeting point with our other fellow pilgrims, a group of my dad's friends. It was from them that I discovered I would only be walking 3 days however, it was the most challenging 3 days of the entire pilgrimage as it went straight up and over the Pyrenees into Spain. I was starting to realise that perhaps my training, which consisted of walking between London pubs, may not have been enough. I was so ill-prepared that I hadn't even brought a backpack (in my defence Dad said I wouldn't need one). Luckily while Dad and I were at the supermarket stocking up on mass amounts of water, we found me a lovely 4 Euro bright pink backpack and a matching pink water bottle to attach to said stylish backpack. It even had a matching pencil case. I was ready.

The following morning we rose bright and early to conquer our mountains. Equipped with walking sticks, walking boots and filled with adrenaline we began to stride out to the edge of the town in search of signs of shells which point the pilgrims in the right direction. This grand beginning was somewhat anticlimactic when we discovered that we were headed in completely the wrong direction. My faith in the seven adults, who were supposedly Camino veterans, began to waver. Moreover, I had heard horror stories of vultures who had pecked a pilgrim to death when she broke her leg on the walk and couldn't escape. Even with my adorable pink backpack our odds of survival weren't looking good if we couldn't even find our way of a very well signposted town.

Eventually we made it out and began our trek up into the mountains. It was not long before we encountered our first very steep incline which seemed to set the standard for the rest of the day. It was about 30 degrees while we were walking however, it felt slightly cooler due to a wind that was both a blessing and a curse. Although the wind meant the heat was not as stifling, it made it difficult for me to walk in a straight line at times. Despite all of this, the scenery was absolutely magical. Nestled amongst the green mountains we encountered sheep, horses and cows grazing. Their huge cow bells in the breeze quickly became the soundtrack to our walk. But what goes up must come down, and of the 25km we walked that day only 5 were downhill, resulting in an incredibly steep gradient to the point of being painful. Even high powered businessmen were making noises that resembled the whimpering of a kitten. It was sweet relief to finally reach our first destination, kick off the shoes and enjoy a Sangria. I was pleasantly surprised that not only had I completed day 1, I had done it with relative ease.

Day 2 was by far the most challenging for me. Although the track was flatter, my toes were covered in blisters and it was incredibly hot. My pace was a lot slower than the first day and I thought I was going to cry from the pain at one point. However, once again the scenery was pretty amazing. Very different from the first day, we ventured through tiny Spanish towns littered with window boxes full of bright flowers. I also discovered that the best way to distract myself was just to get lost in my own thoughts. They say that miracles happen on this walk so long as you focus on them. While I'm not sure I can claim I witnessed any sort of miracle, walking through the idyllic countryside and beautiful Spanish towns did manage to provide me the clarity I'd not been able to get in the hustle and bustle of London.

Day 3 I was bandaged up and ready to go! We had a much shorter walk for our last day so we went at a leisurely pace and nibbled on wild blackberries along the way. We stopped for omelettes, to cuddle horses and even for wood fired pizza. At one point I had a little black and white cat accompanying me down the path however, when she figured out I had no food to share she decided the trek wasn't worth it. After a three day journey the final hour into Pamplona seemed to drag on for an eternity though. Finally, we crossed a bridge to encounter a huge wall that encased the home of the running of the bulls and the end of my Camino experience.

To be continued...