Ashes to Ashes

The smell of the carnage after a big fire is unique.  It immediately hit me when I got back near the place.  My nose and senses learned it many years ago as young paramedic.  Unfortunately, then there were other, more terrible smells to add to the process.  No one injured this time but a lot of things black.

My question is this.....any amateur looters out there on my facebook.  You know who you are?  What in the hell is in this photo that you would want to sneak around in the dark and steal?  I just don't get it.  I guess that begs another question.  If you don't want it anyway and someone sneaks in and takes it without permission, is that stealing?  Anyone able to shed any light on the subject let me know.  If anyone is in need of burned tin....I have a source.

What gets me even more than that is the sight of what I took in the back of my truck and what was left.  I'm going to do some serious evaluating on the material side of my life starting now.  I'm not sure I'm ready to do another downsize right now but some of the things I had always considered valuable will be given away to someone who is more oriented to take care of them.  So if you get a package from me in the near future...don't be afraid.  If you don't,  consider yourself even luckier.  I have some strange things.  And NO, I'm keeping the Vacuum.

The Night the Mountain Burned

It was just shy of 3:15 AM on Saturday morning when I heard the car alarm though the open window.  The Villa is usually a very quiet place so any strange noises get your attention.  A short time later I was startled by someone banging hard on my front door.  No yelling or screaming just a hard solid banging. As a good Texan would do, I got my gun and prepared to meet some strange intruder.   What I saw out the window took my breath away.  A wall of flames rising high above the narrow row of buildings in front of me.  Then I heard my neighbor calming shouting that the mountain was on fire.   My first thought, "NO SHIT".

What happened next was a strange series of thought processes that I will never forget.  After I managed to get some clothes on and realized that I had a minute or two before the Villa was gone, I started looking around for things to save.   What do you save?  You can't even come close to getting it all.  So what do you take?  I hopped around on one foot then another and couldn't decide on anything.  There were all kinds of things of value.  I just couldn't figure out what to get.  I picked up a guitar (which I don't really play), and the vacuum cleaner.  Now don't get me wrong....it's a good vacuum cleaner but as a few of you might know about me....I don't like to vacuum.  In fact I would have burned the vacuum myself if given half a chance , but was it really the most important object I owned?  The crazy thing is that I put it down and picked it up several times over the next 3 minutes.  In the end I left the vacuum and took the guitar, some masks, an empty camera case, and my dirty clothes.  You know, all the most important things in ones life.  That was all that I was allowed to get as the police forced everyone to evacuate.  Flames were more than 30 feet in the air just a few yards from the Villa.  It was time to say goodbye.

Most of the early morning I was sitting with the crowd and watching the fire.  More and more mutual aid fire support came in from surrounding cities and slowly the progress of the fire was slowed.  Somehow the Villa had a chance.  It all hinged on one large building across the street from the Villa.  No wind, wet weather and some good fire work managed to keep the other building from going and in the end the Villa was saved.   Not everyone would be so lucky.

A few more thoughts on this later.  These are a few pictures from my porch

Ernest And Me

The Plaza del Castillo is a bustling place during the Festival of San Fermin.  Most are not familiar with San Fermin but know the fiesta as “Running the Bulls in Pamplona”.  There are many bull runs in the world but none compare to Pamplona  for it’s pageantry and mystic.   The tales of Pamplona have been chronicled for years in Stories of courage, risk, and bravado.  None compare to Hemingway’s account of the fiesta in the Sun Also Rises.  Hemingway became an iconic part of San Fermin many years ago.  Today his books and likeness are spread all over the central city in Pamplona.  What would this kind of party be without a look a like contest.  

My encounter with the Ernesto came on a lazy Wednesday afternoon on the Plaza.  People had slowed from the Adrenaline packed morning of the run.  Even the fluffed up details of the near death runs had died down in the warm Spanish sun.  I first noticed a group of men all resembling Ernest standing near a table filled with Tapas and wine.  Some looked more like Papa than others but all were a pretty decent likeness of the man.  Little did I know the contest had just ended and the winner had been crowned.  

Securing a choice table near the Bar Txoko I was well into my third Kaiku, a strange vanilla and cognac mixture,  when Gian Paolo Bonomi strolled by accompanied by another Hemingway clone.  The conversation was still hot from the earlier competition when he noticed that I had raised my camera.  Not missing a beat he turned repositioned his scarf and smiled for the photo.  A mutual smile and nod and Ernest was gone.  An hour or so later the mysterious Ernest wandered by again only this time alone.  I caught his eye and motioned him over.  A drink was in order as it turned out for the number two Hemingway in Pamplona that day.  Gian Paolo was a travel writer who was in Pamplona for the second time.  He had traveled all over the world taking photos and jotting down notes about extraordinary places.  Pamplona would be a great entry he said to me in broken English.   There really is no joy more intense than sitting with a new friend in a beautiful place trying to overcome a language barrier with laughs and smiles and strange hand  gestures that no one ever understands.  Gian Paolo and traded cards and it was only then as he looked at the card I gave him that he realized that I was somewhat in the family of wandering adventurers.  Gian Paolo’s card was one your grandfather would have made on the new “Desk Top” he got for Christmas.  It had a sincere quality to it that was hard to match.  Simply a man who loved to travel and wanted to tell his Italian friends about it and maybe the world if it would listen.

Over the last couple of years, I have asked Gian Paolo many questions about romantic places in Italy.  What makes the best pasta?  Favorite travel destinations.  His responses always begin with, “well, it depends”.   After that he has always come up with some unique locations that were worth the effort.   Gian Paolos website can be reached at www.gianpaolobonomi.it  There used to be English there also but now I’m not sure so enjoy the puzzle of Italian.