More Cowbell

In the place we stayed last night, a one star pension, the proprietor told us “boots stay here,” as he pointed to a shelf near the check in stand. The three of us stayed in one room and we were so tired we hit the sack after a shower. We had pushed it so we could get to Pamplona with enough energy to celebrate Maureen’s sixtieth birthday today. Here we found a three star hotel with perhaps the best restaurant in Pamplona and they let us take the elevator up with our muddy shoes on.

For days we now our primary source of music has been the occasional cowbells on cows, sheep or horses. Always only one cowbell to a cluster for some reason. Perhaps on the dominant one or the most ornery. Sometimes a cowbell in a pasture off to our right would answer another to our right creating the most intriguing polyrhythms. After dinner we listened to parishners of San Fermin Cathedral chant the rosary with an organ accompaniment, a deep trance like experience.

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