Pamplona, Spain

Hola from Pamplona, Espana. No I am not "running with the bulls" in my white Elvis jumpsuit and red bandanna around my neck... that happens in July to celebrate St Fermin's feast day...

A 'lay-over day' in terms of the 1970s backpacking days was a day to relax at the campsite, put your feet up and let the blisters dry out. Today is my 'lay-over day' in Pamplona. However, it has been anything but relaxing. Too many tasks to complete. I scheduled the morning time for answering and responding to my business email. Unfortunately my Pamplona "office" was not as keen as my St Jean Pied du Port café.

I learned from Jane, a fellow pilgrim, that the bus station at Pamplona has WiFi and a place to have coffee, so I booked down to the bus station from the Jesus y Maria Refugio this morning. The station is tres modern: stainless steel and glass, not anything like what we would think of a smelly bus depot in the US. However, it was underground, so no sunlight for the first four hours of my day. (I should mention that the station has a fantastic green roof going in on the street level. The depth of earth material is so extraordinary that they are turning the soil with two agricultural-sized tractors. No sod yet. It promises to be lovely.)

Unfortunately my experience so far in Europe has been that it very difficult to find WiFi. (Internet cafes are common - you can use THEIR computers to access the internet. Because of my MS Outlook business email account, I need to use my own computer; therefore Wi-Fi is an important resource at least once every three days.) And so it seems that whenever I finally find Wi-Fi, there is no outlet to access electricity so I must run on battery power, Of course, my battery power does not last long, and I end up plugging into the Ladies' Room outlet or some such other out of the way spot. And Wi-Fi is impossible to access in an out of the way spot. C'est la vie… patience!

Money from Heaven

Speaking of patience, one of my tasks today was to find a place that would cash an American Express check. It seems a simple task. However, after tries at five different banks so far, I am beginning to understand that Travelers Checks are a thing of the past. Probably because of the advent of ATM machines, what 20 years ago… The travelers' checks that I am carrying are from years ago. Almost seems like 'FREE' money, they are so old. But a $100 AmX Travelers check doesn't go very far against the Euro. At the sixth banque, I got $67.00 and then charged an additional nine Euros for a service fee.

I asked the manager, "Un autre pregunta, por favor." Another question, please. Then I laid out on the bank counter 100,000 pesetas. He picked them up and examined them as if they were foreign currency. Pesetas were the Spanish currency before switching to the Euro. "Not here," he said in Spanish after finally recognizing the old bills. "Go across the street to the left to La Banque de Epana."

Across the street is the Pamplona Post Office, so I stop there first. Another chore for the day is to send back some ropa (clothing) and a small book that I am DONE with carrying in my all too heavy backpack. Did I mention patience earlier in this article? I was at the post office for over an hour… waiting in line. It is the Spanish way. Everything is slower here. I am hoping to learn the pace. They can spot me a mile a way: An American walking so fast down the sidewalk on to her next task! Got the package wrapped and mailed with the help of the nice postal workers.

Then onto el Banque de Epana. Could these old bills really be worth something? I turned left and went to the end of the block. I was SURE this is what he said. But no sign on the huge, squatty building made of ochre colored sandstone. There were two impressive flags flying above the broad doors five steps above the street level, wanted posters picturing good-looking Basque fugitives, and lots of electronic security at the entrance. This must be the place.

I walked up the steps and pressed the black button for admission. The green button lit, a buzzer sounded and the bronze and glass door opened to let me into the vestibule. The door in front of me remained locked until the door behind swung shut. I pressed the next black button, feeling like I was in an episode of Get Smart. The second green light finally lit - good thing I don't have claustrophobia - and I pushed the second heavy portal forward. The room I then entered into reminded me of photos of old time banks I'd seen at my local Flagstaff, AZ Wells Fargo. A big room surrounded with glassed-in teller windows. Of the 12-16 windows, only one was manned - by a woman.

"Eso es el Banque de Espana?" I asked. I couldn't believe it when she said, "Si/Yes." This was a blessing too good to be true! On the same street, and only ½ a block away from the post office. "Pesetas," I said. "Pesetas cela," she said pointing to the corner window where a man suddenly appeared. I had no idea that I could still exchange this old money, I brought it with me just on happen stance that I could. I was totally amazed as he filled out the paperwork after examining the bills. 65.10 Euros or $90!

It is money from heaven. Thank you, God! I probably bought these pesetas in my first trip to Spain in 1996, when I was rich. I didn't realize that I had them when I went back to Barcelona with Dan in 2000. I think we were on Euros by then… The Spanish currency went unremembered on my first El Camino journey to Santiago de Compostela in 2005. The pesetas have been a hidden treasure until now -- when I really needed them. God provides in mysterious ways.

I saw an Italian pilgrim, Francesco, with a familiar design on the back of his T-shirt. I made some excuse to stand behind him to look closer. Sure enough, in small print, it said the artwork was done by a Hopi artist. I was so excited to see Hopi on the back of an Italian in northern Spain!