Jared and I have taken a lot of pictures together in Europe - a lot. But we realized while we were in Rome that we have pictures together in every city we've been to except Pamplona. I have no idea why we didn't take any when I was there in February but we didn’t. So I made a spontaneous decision right then and there in Rome that the weekend after I got back to Lisbon, I was going to Pamplona; and so I did.
Thursday, May 5th
Following my standard flight to Madrid and the long 5 hour bus ride to Pamplona, I made it to the bus stations a little after 3:00pm and a smiling Jared was there to greet me. [Side Note: I still cannot believe Jared had to take the bus there and back to the Madrid airport every time he went on a trip. Mind boggling.] On the sunny stroll back to Jared's apartment we stopped at El Corte Ingles because airport security had taken several toiletries - meanies. We also stopped by the grocery store near Jared's place to stock up on snacks and munchies; specifically Pringles, mini Chips Ahoy, and peach ice tea. We got to Jared's apartment soon after that just to drop off our stuff and then left on a mini-sightseeing adventure in the city. The last time I was in Pamplona, we didn't make an effort to see anything and we spent half of the trip in Bilbao so that didn't leave much time in Pamplona anyway. This time around I was determined to really see what it was like in Jared’s part of the continent.
We first stopped at this little petting zoo-esque enclosure thing where there were chickens, roosters, ducks, and a bevy of other random birds that I couldn't name if you offered me cash money. I love animals so I was thoroughly entertained watching the interactions between these birds for a while. As we moved along also we discovered several peacocks (throwback to Saint George's Castle in Lisbon). We really wanted to see one fanned out NBC style and we eventually found one that was clearly trying to impress this female peacock that couldn't be less interested - poor guy.
We walked around the city for a while longer passing cathedrals and statues marked on Jared's map. We stopped by the statue depicting the running of the bulls which was rather graphic in my opinion and implied serious injuries to the participants. [Side Note: I don't know why anyone would willing sign up to run in front of a stampede of angry bulls. Did we not learn anything from The Lion King's wildebeest stampede? It's just not a good situation.] We walked by the countdown to the Running of the Bulls on our way to getting Ben and Jerry's ice cream and sitting in the main plaza in Pamplona. Despite the light sky and recently set sun, it was already around 9:00pm when we finished our ice cream so it was time for dinner.
Jared claimed that this one particular pincho at a restaurant in the plaza is incredible but the restaurant hadn't had it since. After checking once more to make sure it still wasn’t there (it wasn’t), we decided paella would cure the sting of failure. The paella was as good as it always is but the memorable thing about the encounter was the "take away" option. In the United States you would get a plastic or Styrofoam container to put the remainder of your meal into and easily transport it home. At this restaurant, the waiter brought out a piece of aluminum foil and a plastic bag - a plastic bag from an optometrist I might add. It was the strangest thing to me but it did give us a good chuckle and I was able to take the paella home.
At the time, it was recently announced that U.S. forces killed Osama bin Laden. That night Jared and I got into a very good discussion about September 11th and we even watched a documentary called Loose Change, a conspiracy theory about 9/11. I love that we can talk about world news and have intelligent discussions about current events. It reminds me that I’m dating a smart guy ;) Sporcling and relaxing was obviously included in the night's itinerary before slumber fell upon us.
Friday, May 6th
We are such bums. We literally slept ALL day. We woke up at various points throughout the day but each time we decided we had nothing better to do than sleep and went right back to it. Around 6pm we finally got out of bed only to mull around the apartment and do nothing. But the funny thing is, it's one of the greatest days we've had together. I gauge any relationship as being pretty great if you can do absolutely nothing with the person and have a great time - because you're together, "doing nothing" becomes "doing something." [Side Note: The moment I realized I really liked Jared was the Saturday after Thanksgiving 2010 when I picked him up from the airport and we did absolutely nothing all day until the Notre Dame football game that night. We just watched TV and got lunch at Chipotle and hung out in his apartment. It's one of my all time favorite days that we've spent together.]
Saturday, May 7th
Jared put out the idea of getting up early and taking the bus to San Sebastian for the day. From the moment "getting up early" was mentioned we should have known it wasn't going to happen. We did not wake up as late as Friday but we did wake up after the bus we wanted to take. It turned out to be a good thing because it rained practically all day. It was so nice though to sit inside with Jared and Sporcle and watch movies and just be together and be silly while the rain subtly harmonized with our dialogue. It was another fabulous day.
That evening we actually left the apartment to go to a Mexican food place that Jared recommended and a jazz club in the plaza. The Mexican food restaurant was bomb! It was so good. It's been like a thousand years since I've had Mexican food so I was in Heaven. After stuffing my face, we walked to the plaza only to find that the jazz club was closed - on a Saturday night?! In all fairness to the club, I'm pretty sure the website told us that it was open on Tuesdays but we just assumed it was open other days as well (you know what they say when you assume). We stopped by an ice cream place to salvage the trip and Jared got Stracciatella (throwback to Rome). [Side Note: We played a new game I like to call Jukebox on the way to the plaza, which is simply singing songs together when we are walking somewhere but it's so fun. It always makes me laugh - especially because Jared knows the lyrics to very few songs.]
Sunday, May 8th
My last morning in Pamplona was about as cheery as any of the days that I have to leave Jared. It would be another 2 weeks before we saw each other again and you’d think we'd be pros at the whole "saying goodbye" thing but it's equally hard each and every time.
That afternoon I got on the bus to begin my seemingly standard mecca back to Lisbon.
After changing buses in Soria, I thought I had time to sleep because it was at least 2 hours to Madrid and the stopping of the bus always wakes me up. Man oh man was that a bad call. As it turns out the bus from Soria does not make its final stop at the Madrid airport; it doesn't even pull into a stall at the airport. It stops behind the row of buses, let’s people off to grab their bags, and then keeps going. Well I am an incredibly deep sleeper and as long as that engine didn't cut off, I was going to stay asleep – and I did just that. When the bus finally parked and I woke up, I looked at my watch and noticed that it was about 30 minutes later than we were supposed to arrive. It was 7:15pm and my flight left at 8:10pm so though we were late, I still had time to get to the gate. But when I sat up and looked around, it didn't look anything like the airport I've come to know so well. When I got off the bus and frantically checked the available signage, I realized I was not at the Madrid airport - I was at some stop that starts with an L. Panic immediately set in.
I had selected this particular flight because it was the latest EasyJet flight available that Sunday and I needed to be in class Monday morning. So if I missed it, I couldn't take a later flight – at least not on EasyJet. I'd either have to buy a whole new flight on another airline or stay the night and hope for a 6am flight with open seats in the morning. Both options sounded terrible. I tried to collect myself as I was on the brink of bursting into tears when I saw that red rhombus symbolizing the metro. I had been to Madrid enough times to know that it was possible to get to the airport via metro. So I ran to the entrance to buy a ticket only to find that it didn’t take credit cards and the ATM machine was on the other side of the barrier. Again, tears welling up. I struggled to string my Spanglish together enough to tell the security guard my situation and he actually understood me and let me through to get to the ATM without paying for a ticket - thank you, Lord.
My abundant public transportation experience in Europe definitely came in handy as I quickly deciphered which lines I needed to take to get to the airport. By now it's7:30pm and I'm aware that it takes at least 15 minutes on the metro to get to the airport from where I was. 15 minutes isn't that long but in this case it seemed like an eternity. I knew that the gate closed about half an hour before the plane’s departure so my chance of making the flight was slim but I had to try. While on the metro I called both Jared and my mom basically crying my eyes out and it was nice to have them tell me that it was going to be okay and offer to help if I missed the flight. They're pretty great.
I finally arrived at the airport metro station and was baffled to find that you needed a ticket to get out of the barriers. Great. I didn't have to buy a ticket because the security guard let me in so I didn't have one to get out. But I am my father's daughter and we will break rules if we have to when the situation calls for it; in this case my only choice was to sneak though. I waited for the man behind me to put his ticket in and then I just ran through the barriers behind him. Not what I wanted to do but at least I made it.
Now it was a full on sprint, while carrying my backpack, to get from the metro station to the EasyJet desk in Terminal 1. I hadn't printed my boarding pass ahead of time (I never do) so I couldn't just bypass the desk. I got to the counter at about 7:50 and the man initially told me the flight was closed and he couldn't print my pass. Depression. But then he asked if I had my confirmation number. Apparently because the flight was closed he couldn't pull up my boarding pass by name but he could do it by number - thank you, Jesus! He didn't guarantee that I would make the flight but he printed the pass and told me good luck.
I ran to the front of the security line and told the woman my flight left in 10 minutes. I didn't wait for her approval to cut her because I was going to either way. I threw my bag, shoes, and jacket on that conveyor belt and briskly walked through. Of course my bag did not clear and had to be checked (I forgot my water bottle was in there) but that didn't take more than a second and then I was off to the screen to find my gate number. Luckily it wasn't far from security but when I got there, no one was in front of C33 but two female employees. The plane had left. I could feel the tears welling up. As I walked up to the women to confirm the flight's departure, I can't explain my surprise and utter relief when they said, "The flight is delayed. It's not here yet. All of those people are in line." I hadn't even noticed the mass of people on the other side of the seating area but I couldn't be more thrilled to see them now. I was going to make the flight!
After about a half hour's wait and a scare that the flight may not be able to take off for another 2 hours because of backed scheduling, we were in the air on the way to Lisbon. It was easily the most hectic and emotional nearly-missed-flight experience I’ve ever had (even more than Paris) but it made for a great adventure. What would a semester abroad in Europe be without a few missed flight scares? Definitely less heart-racing but a good heartbeat increase reminds us we're alive.
I had selected this particular flight because it was the latest EasyJet flight available that Sunday and I needed to be in class Monday morning. So if I missed it, I couldn't take a later flight – at least not on EasyJet. I'd either have to buy a whole new flight on another airline or stay the night and hope for a 6am flight with open seats in the morning. Both options sounded terrible. I tried to collect myself as I was on the brink of bursting into tears when I saw that red rhombus symbolizing the metro. I had been to Madrid enough times to know that it was possible to get to the airport via metro. So I ran to the entrance to buy a ticket only to find that it didn’t take credit cards and the ATM machine was on the other side of the barrier. Again, tears welling up. I struggled to string my Spanglish together enough to tell the security guard my situation and he actually understood me and let me through to get to the ATM without paying for a ticket - thank you, Lord.
My abundant public transportation experience in Europe definitely came in handy as I quickly deciphered which lines I needed to take to get to the airport. By now it's7:30pm and I'm aware that it takes at least 15 minutes on the metro to get to the airport from where I was. 15 minutes isn't that long but in this case it seemed like an eternity. I knew that the gate closed about half an hour before the plane’s departure so my chance of making the flight was slim but I had to try. While on the metro I called both Jared and my mom basically crying my eyes out and it was nice to have them tell me that it was going to be okay and offer to help if I missed the flight. They're pretty great.
I finally arrived at the airport metro station and was baffled to find that you needed a ticket to get out of the barriers. Great. I didn't have to buy a ticket because the security guard let me in so I didn't have one to get out. But I am my father's daughter and we will break rules if we have to when the situation calls for it; in this case my only choice was to sneak though. I waited for the man behind me to put his ticket in and then I just ran through the barriers behind him. Not what I wanted to do but at least I made it.
Now it was a full on sprint, while carrying my backpack, to get from the metro station to the EasyJet desk in Terminal 1. I hadn't printed my boarding pass ahead of time (I never do) so I couldn't just bypass the desk. I got to the counter at about 7:50 and the man initially told me the flight was closed and he couldn't print my pass. Depression. But then he asked if I had my confirmation number. Apparently because the flight was closed he couldn't pull up my boarding pass by name but he could do it by number - thank you, Jesus! He didn't guarantee that I would make the flight but he printed the pass and told me good luck.
I ran to the front of the security line and told the woman my flight left in 10 minutes. I didn't wait for her approval to cut her because I was going to either way. I threw my bag, shoes, and jacket on that conveyor belt and briskly walked through. Of course my bag did not clear and had to be checked (I forgot my water bottle was in there) but that didn't take more than a second and then I was off to the screen to find my gate number. Luckily it wasn't far from security but when I got there, no one was in front of C33 but two female employees. The plane had left. I could feel the tears welling up. As I walked up to the women to confirm the flight's departure, I can't explain my surprise and utter relief when they said, "The flight is delayed. It's not here yet. All of those people are in line." I hadn't even noticed the mass of people on the other side of the seating area but I couldn't be more thrilled to see them now. I was going to make the flight!
"Today I don't feel like doing anything
I just wanna lay in my bed
Don't feel like picking up my phone
So leave a message at the tone
