Monday, 11th September.
What a drip

Drip drip drip in the ceiling wakes me during the night. And keeps me awake. I resolved to tell someone about it and demand to change rooms, but I just don't have the Spanish for it. I'll have to grin and bear it tonight. (Although I'll be asleep, so there's no telling whether or not I'll be grinning in my sleep. Unless the dripping keeps me awake, and then I'll be able to make a conscious effort to grin.)

I sent over a kilogram of stuff back to London. A kilogram less in my backpack, that's got to be a good thing. I found the post office despite the directions given in the Lonely Planet guide (which I've decided to lug all around Spain). In the afternoon I wandered around Pamplona, exploring the old town.

above: Plaza del Toros. Bullfighting: fun for the whole family!

above: Every day the people that ran this shop would put out all these sausages. Then at siesta they would bring them all in. Then afer siesta put them all out again...and so on.

And now a few observations:

• Spanish men are very short

• I'm a giant in this land!

• Even the policemen are short!

• an abnormally high proportion of the male population sport mullet-cuts

• and earrings

• in fact it's like being back in high school. Tasmanian high school. Message to the men of Navarre - get your act together!