Pamplona

On Sunday I took the train to Pamplona. Very uneventful, I arrived and went searching for dinner. The streets were empty (I was willing to give it to them that it was Sunday night, they're usually dead in most towns) I finally found a bar that fit my requirments - not too crowded, not completely empty, there's a seat at the bar and the lighting isn't too bright. Of course this bar was called Bar Arizona. I kind of liked that. The tappas were to die- seriously the best I've had so far, with 4 beers and three tapas my bill came to $10. And don't think I'm a total lush, their beers are something like 6 ounces. The bartender friendly even if his English as worse than my Spanish :). Then back to my hotel. The next day my timing was completely off. I was using Barcelona rules- that's kind of like using New York rules while, well, in, Cleveland. Their siesta was earlier and longer, and during their siesta most restaurants are closed. In Barcelona and the south that's when restaurants are at their busiest. Now the town center of Pamplona is beautiful, it's not all that big and like Valencia, the surrounding parts are just 70's apartment complexes. I was starving for lunch and tried this one place, but of course they were closed till after siesta. So I tried another that had a picture of a "mama" in an apron aparantly trying to say "home cooking". I sat on a wooden bench and asked for the menu of the day (have I mentioned by law they have to serve a menu of the day with starter, entree, desert and drink somewhere in the $10 to $20 range). Yeah, this place didn't have one and was super expensive. I was the only person in there.

I had seen from the other menus in the city that "tacos bacalas" were very prevailant here. I was curious, what exactly are Spanish tacos? So after being annoyed that I couldn't order a menu of the day, I decided just to suck it up and go with the tacos for $23 euro. I really wanted some starch, I knew they wouldn't have tortillas, but I was really curious what they would serve them in.

I got a piece of fish.

That's it, a piece of fish in some cream sauce. They charged me another $2 for a roll I didn't order, but was so thankful I had it. And another $4 for the two cokes I ordered (but at least they were large cokes and it was the best deal I've yet to have on cokes). There was another $5 euro thown on the bill for something, so I paid $32 euro to have lunch on a wooden bench with waiters ignoring me, oh and it was freezing, so much so I had to put on my gloves. Really the Romanians that ripped me off $150 were a better deal than this place.

Turns out tacos is the cut of fish, the other half of the fish is called the burrito, hence my confusion. I did not like that restaurant at all.

Most people here do not speak English, so there weren't any friends to be made or conversations to be had and I was quickly bored. The churches were all locked (unlike other cities who leave them open to come in at any time) and there were no museums.

The next day I pretty much wandered waiting for my train. It took me forever to figure out where to eat. Once bitten twice shy. About 4pm I finally settled on a little restaurant that was next to the one I had spent an hour walking back to but was closed.

Oh, God Bless them. My starter was fried foie with pear, then a brocolli rellano (they use onion instead of chili) then a red pepper rellano, and then a mini filet with more foie. (have I mentioned foie may be my most favorite food in the world, don't like pate, but foie is heavenly). The waitress was wonderful, the place was warm and lunch cost me $16 euro.

Pamplona was redeemed.