Iruña/Pamplona. I watch the children sitting in a circle in the shade and playing around the fountain. I wonder what they learn here about how to treat animals in a city that it is known for the Running of the Bulls and where even childrens’ toys represent that.
(I get part of the answer just minutes after I write this. Seven children copy the Running of the Bulls, they choose rolls, one is the priest, one the bull, the others are the runners. Curiously one has the role of the camera, pretending to film it. I am the camera too, observing them.)
There is more, of course. Every place has many sides. There is the farmacy offering pilgrims help, free of charge. There are beautiful buildings and green spaces. There is a man bringing water from the fountain to a woman who can’t reach it in her wheelchair., he applies it on her arms and back. There was a long sincere conversation with somebody on the street just after I arrived here yesterday. There is the hostel that feels like home, unfortunately they don’t have a bed for tonight so I will walk and sleep outside, after I come back here later. The fountain gave me an idea: it is the perfect place to put my punctured air mattress in to see where the hole is. Sleeping on a leaking air mattress is no fun, although waking up covered in morning dew (it cools down pleasantly here at night) makes up for it.
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