16/09/23
Sligo to Dublin to Biarriz to St. Jean Pied de Port to Orisson.
Three Crazy Spanish Ladies with the Spanish Eyes
and Where's me Camera?
8.8 Km. 685 m elevation gain 2hours 34minutes walking time.
So let’s move quickly on to Saturday the 16th of September. It was 1am and I was sitting on the night Bus from Sligo to Dublin Airport. I was hoping that I would catch a few minutes of sleep on the bus….however even as this thought crossed my mind I smiled to myself...fat chance. Unfortunately in this case I was right. The journey to the Airport was uneventful until we reached the halfway point; Longford…..it’s after 2am and two drunken fools decide that they want to get on the bus which the driver is having none of…..the woman continues to shout out “I’m Irish” while her equally cerebrally challenged male companion tells the bus driver “But I just want to give you holy water”……….not sure what they had been drinking but I doubt it involved much water. The driver handled it very well and we were shortly on our way.
Once we got to the airport I was looking forward to a pint the far side of security….I thought I had an hour and half….silly boy…..that was between now and take off. Unfortunately I did not allow for what time the gate closed which was 40 minutes….still I recalculate 50 minutes and security seemed to be flowing okay so I can do this. Start plan B…..damn security had a plan C in mind….my rucksack had to be checked. That’s okay, usually it is my hip flask and I had purposely left at the top so all should be good….no….the security lady went on to plan D ( I am thinking seriously….it’s only in silly movies you really go to plan D). I had everything packed in smaller individual bags...convenient for me while hiking, alas not so for airport security….as she opened every bag….slowly I might add, which I had to then refill...I was wondering what on earth the sensor had picked up. The bottom of the bag and 20 minutes later out come my bivvy bag and my small first aid kit. Damn, it had a small scissors and nail clippers in it, I mean the itty bitty scissors is one of those that normal adults like me wonder how I am meant to get my thumb into one of those holes? This is the first time I have carried a kit on a flight as I have one left in Crete where my usual hiking takes place. Still okay….no pint but I can make the plane and I apologies and say she can keep them it was my mistake…...No it’s okay she says...they are small enough to pass. What, why, what…..other thoughts did enter my head….like so what was this all about…..then I thought….smile, say thank you and go off and enjoy the next two weeks. Which I did. Went off that is and took flight.
Flight was short and sweet, I have flown with Ryanair maybe a 2 or 3 dozens times now and have never had any issues. I was seated next to one Sean, well the flight is leaving Dublin, I’d guess there is bound to be at least one Sean aboard. It turns out that he too is heading to France to hike into Spain, though he has walked a few Camino’s over the years this year he is following a different route, which he says like so many other trails in Northern Spain will eventually join up with one of the more traditional Camino ones. We talked on and off and even on that short flight, Sean who is in the middle seat, I have the window, yet it is he that somehow manages to doze off for 10 minutes…..I am so jealous.
As we are disembarking from the plane a lady opposite me, who’s name it turns out is Irene, says I hope you didn’t mind but I was eve’s dropping on yer conversation…….she was also heading off on her first Camino…..she also was starting elsewhere. We chatted for the next 15 minutes until we separated ways as we both left the arrivals gate. As I am saying goodbye to Irene I get a tap on the shoulder and a big hello….it’s turns out that this young lady is Stephanie ( I think she baby sat my nephew at one stage ) from my home town (Sligo) and herself and her friend are about to start on the Norte Camino. We chat briefly and wish each other good luck and small blisters only. They are also heading for a different exit…..wait I think about it…..I do not need an exit yet…..I have an hour before my ride share leaves….and do not have to worry about undeclared undersized nail clippers and scissorers there is a nice open café beside me and ye know what I believe it is time for a coffee a beer and a shot of something stronger.
A few minutes later and …..AHhhhh Every now and then life is good…….I think as I sip away on all three.
Thirst partially satisfied….well there was no Guinness there….I head towards the ride share. It is a mini bus style service that the more bodies they have on board the less it costs...when I booked there was three warm bodies expected, one went cold…..well they may as well have as they dropped out….so if there was only two of us the cost would be around €60 plus. Bit expensive but it was going to get me there. When I researched the trip first it seemed straight forward: bus from Biarritz to Bayonne, train from Bayonne to St. Jean Paul de Satre. Then a thought entered my noggin; our Gallic cousins do love a good old strike: A waiter reported in Paris that a foreigner, who did not order in French, asked for a steak well done…how dare they..the answer Well let all restaurants close down until this person apologises in French and leaves the country. Then there was the day that someone, could have even been a French national said Napolean Bonaparte was short...how dare they…..let’s have a National Strike and close down the county. Yea, so do I trust the French….that is their bus and rail service not to go on strike on the 16th…..I have a good German friend who as she reading this is trying to decide do I disown him (meaning yours truly) now for even thinking about trusting them or does she wait until she meets up with me, pushes me off a mountain and then disown me. I had two weeks or less on this walk and decided not to trust in the French bus / rail and booked the ride share. A bit cynical I know….time will tell.
Time told and a French strike was struck for this day. ( Grammer be elsewhere )
The minibus is meant to pick us up from the Taxi rank. As I wait there I meet a couple of Irish women, a Welsh lass, an older English gent, a woman from Belgium and as time passes another Irish woman. It turns out the English gent, who we will call Jeff as that is what is name was, and I were the two who had booked in advance. The five ladies had all booked over the last 12 hours…...guess who decided to call a strike with less than 24 hours notice…...if you guess the Professional Igloo Makers from Botswana…..you would be wrong. Wait…...if you had guessed them you may be right; I can neither confirm nor deny if they did coincidentally call a strike for the 16th of September 2023. I have not read any news reports from Botswana within the last...let me think….it could be something like a lifetime.
I can see the smile on my German friends face, might just make it safely down the next mountain yet.
I am sitting beside Ellen from Wales while Jeff from England is next to her. We chat intermittently throughout a very pleasant journey. The countryside we are travelling through has a very Alpine feel to it, the neatness of the houses, the well organised fields: I get the feeling that if the driver slowed down and we lowered a window we could possibly get to see and hear a Julie Andrews wanna be appear over a nearby hill…..lets not take a chance, keep all the windows up, keep the foot on the pedal…...just in case.
It is Ellen’s first Camino while Jeff has been on two or three. He offers up a few tips and words of wisdom throughout…..before we know it the buildings that make up St. Jean Pied de Porte are surrounding us.
We make our way to the passport office through the small streets, cannot help but feel somewhat comfortable in what is a very beautiful town, you can just feel the history all around you. ( It does help that it is a beautiful sunny day ) I am a bit surprised with the amount of tourists though, yes there are Pilgrims and Hikers in the mix but the day I was there it did seem that they were far outnumbered by regular tourists / day visitors.
Once we got to the airport I was looking forward to a pint the far side of security….I thought I had an hour and half….silly boy…..that was between now and take off. Unfortunately I did not allow for what time the gate closed which was 40 minutes….still I recalculate 50 minutes and security seemed to be flowing okay so I can do this. Start plan B…..damn security had a plan C in mind….my rucksack had to be checked. That’s okay, usually it is my hip flask and I had purposely left at the top so all should be good….no….the security lady went on to plan D ( I am thinking seriously….it’s only in silly movies you really go to plan D). I had everything packed in smaller individual bags...convenient for me while hiking, alas not so for airport security….as she opened every bag….slowly I might add, which I had to then refill...I was wondering what on earth the sensor had picked up. The bottom of the bag and 20 minutes later out come my bivvy bag and my small first aid kit. Damn, it had a small scissors and nail clippers in it, I mean the itty bitty scissors is one of those that normal adults like me wonder how I am meant to get my thumb into one of those holes? This is the first time I have carried a kit on a flight as I have one left in Crete where my usual hiking takes place. Still okay….no pint but I can make the plane and I apologies and say she can keep them it was my mistake…...No it’s okay she says...they are small enough to pass. What, why, what…..other thoughts did enter my head….like so what was this all about…..then I thought….smile, say thank you and go off and enjoy the next two weeks. Which I did. Went off that is and took flight.
Flight was short and sweet, I have flown with Ryanair maybe a 2 or 3 dozens times now and have never had any issues. I was seated next to one Sean, well the flight is leaving Dublin, I’d guess there is bound to be at least one Sean aboard. It turns out that he too is heading to France to hike into Spain, though he has walked a few Camino’s over the years this year he is following a different route, which he says like so many other trails in Northern Spain will eventually join up with one of the more traditional Camino ones. We talked on and off and even on that short flight, Sean who is in the middle seat, I have the window, yet it is he that somehow manages to doze off for 10 minutes…..I am so jealous.
As we are disembarking from the plane a lady opposite me, who’s name it turns out is Irene, says I hope you didn’t mind but I was eve’s dropping on yer conversation…….she was also heading off on her first Camino…..she also was starting elsewhere. We chatted for the next 15 minutes until we separated ways as we both left the arrivals gate. As I am saying goodbye to Irene I get a tap on the shoulder and a big hello….it’s turns out that this young lady is Stephanie ( I think she baby sat my nephew at one stage ) from my home town (Sligo) and herself and her friend are about to start on the Norte Camino. We chat briefly and wish each other good luck and small blisters only. They are also heading for a different exit…..wait I think about it…..I do not need an exit yet…..I have an hour before my ride share leaves….and do not have to worry about undeclared undersized nail clippers and scissorers there is a nice open café beside me and ye know what I believe it is time for a coffee a beer and a shot of something stronger.
A few minutes later and …..AHhhhh Every now and then life is good…….I think as I sip away on all three.
Thirst partially satisfied….well there was no Guinness there….I head towards the ride share. It is a mini bus style service that the more bodies they have on board the less it costs...when I booked there was three warm bodies expected, one went cold…..well they may as well have as they dropped out….so if there was only two of us the cost would be around €60 plus. Bit expensive but it was going to get me there. When I researched the trip first it seemed straight forward: bus from Biarritz to Bayonne, train from Bayonne to St. Jean Paul de Satre. Then a thought entered my noggin; our Gallic cousins do love a good old strike: A waiter reported in Paris that a foreigner, who did not order in French, asked for a steak well done…how dare they..the answer Well let all restaurants close down until this person apologises in French and leaves the country. Then there was the day that someone, could have even been a French national said Napolean Bonaparte was short...how dare they…..let’s have a National Strike and close down the county. Yea, so do I trust the French….that is their bus and rail service not to go on strike on the 16th…..I have a good German friend who as she reading this is trying to decide do I disown him (meaning yours truly) now for even thinking about trusting them or does she wait until she meets up with me, pushes me off a mountain and then disown me. I had two weeks or less on this walk and decided not to trust in the French bus / rail and booked the ride share. A bit cynical I know….time will tell.
Time told and a French strike was struck for this day. ( Grammer be elsewhere )
The minibus is meant to pick us up from the Taxi rank. As I wait there I meet a couple of Irish women, a Welsh lass, an older English gent, a woman from Belgium and as time passes another Irish woman. It turns out the English gent, who we will call Jeff as that is what is name was, and I were the two who had booked in advance. The five ladies had all booked over the last 12 hours…...guess who decided to call a strike with less than 24 hours notice…...if you guess the Professional Igloo Makers from Botswana…..you would be wrong. Wait…...if you had guessed them you may be right; I can neither confirm nor deny if they did coincidentally call a strike for the 16th of September 2023. I have not read any news reports from Botswana within the last...let me think….it could be something like a lifetime.
I can see the smile on my German friends face, might just make it safely down the next mountain yet.
I am sitting beside Ellen from Wales while Jeff from England is next to her. We chat intermittently throughout a very pleasant journey. The countryside we are travelling through has a very Alpine feel to it, the neatness of the houses, the well organised fields: I get the feeling that if the driver slowed down and we lowered a window we could possibly get to see and hear a Julie Andrews wanna be appear over a nearby hill…..lets not take a chance, keep all the windows up, keep the foot on the pedal…...just in case.
It is Ellen’s first Camino while Jeff has been on two or three. He offers up a few tips and words of wisdom throughout…..before we know it the buildings that make up St. Jean Pied de Porte are surrounding us.
We make our way to the passport office through the small streets, cannot help but feel somewhat comfortable in what is a very beautiful town, you can just feel the history all around you. ( It does help that it is a beautiful sunny day ) I am a bit surprised with the amount of tourists though, yes there are Pilgrims and Hikers in the mix but the day I was there it did seem that they were far outnumbered by regular tourists / day visitors.
Ellen and myself arrive into the office at the same time and are seated by a pleasant French gentleman. He is a multi tasker and looks after both of us at the same time. It turns out Ellen has used the last of her Euros to pay for the ride so I sort out the passports. The volunteer explains a few points, most of which we knew, however he does stress that as you ascend to Ronscavelles that Left is Bad Right is Good. We take this on board ( more on that later ). We express our Merci’s and are about to head out when he points to the Scallop Shells that are available at €2 each. We get one each and then go in search of 1) A Bar of Café 2) A hole in the wall ( Cash Machine ) for Ellen 3) A Café or Bar.
So once Ellen gets sorted out she treats me to a large beer ( if we were in Spain Una Cerveza Grande ) and it tasted just Grand. Over the course of the following days I meant some amazing people and it turns out that Ellen was the first of these, after chatting over our drinks for about 30 / 40 minutes I felt I had known this young woman for years. Such an interesting a person I’m pretty sure life and her are going to have a grand old time together. She is planning on walking the distance to Santiago. She’ll get there.
So onwards and, alas, upwards. ( The alas applies to the Pyrenees's ).
Ellen is staying here for the night and then heading to the Albergue Borda tomorrow while I am going to make my way up to Orisson this afternoon. I still want to get a bread roll and some cheese and also think I will pick up a hiking pole. I am not a fan of same and have rarely used them over the years, however on the third day the walk down into Zubiri is that steep and uneven that they are recommended, especially if the area has recently had a visit from a thunderstorm or similar. Once all is purchased I find a comfortable step and reorganise my rucksack, I was thinking briefly of changing my shirt...what the hell I have only three of them….surely I can get another 2 and a half days out of this one. Only kidding, kinda. Anyways once the roll is stowed and the pole attached to the side of the bag I make my way back to a church I had passed earlier. This is the first of a few visits to the same over the next few days….I had to be careful here, as soon as I lit a candle and knelt down my emotions tried to get the better of me….I don’t know why but as soon as I shed a tear I stopped myself and said not now, not yet. I didn’t stay long, enough time to say a few words, and back out into the sunlight.
So once Ellen gets sorted out she treats me to a large beer ( if we were in Spain Una Cerveza Grande ) and it tasted just Grand. Over the course of the following days I meant some amazing people and it turns out that Ellen was the first of these, after chatting over our drinks for about 30 / 40 minutes I felt I had known this young woman for years. Such an interesting a person I’m pretty sure life and her are going to have a grand old time together. She is planning on walking the distance to Santiago. She’ll get there.
So onwards and, alas, upwards. ( The alas applies to the Pyrenees's ).
Ellen is staying here for the night and then heading to the Albergue Borda tomorrow while I am going to make my way up to Orisson this afternoon. I still want to get a bread roll and some cheese and also think I will pick up a hiking pole. I am not a fan of same and have rarely used them over the years, however on the third day the walk down into Zubiri is that steep and uneven that they are recommended, especially if the area has recently had a visit from a thunderstorm or similar. Once all is purchased I find a comfortable step and reorganise my rucksack, I was thinking briefly of changing my shirt...what the hell I have only three of them….surely I can get another 2 and a half days out of this one. Only kidding, kinda. Anyways once the roll is stowed and the pole attached to the side of the bag I make my way back to a church I had passed earlier. This is the first of a few visits to the same over the next few days….I had to be careful here, as soon as I lit a candle and knelt down my emotions tried to get the better of me….I don’t know why but as soon as I shed a tear I stopped myself and said not now, not yet. I didn’t stay long, enough time to say a few words, and back out into the sunlight.
16/09/2023
St. Jean Pied de Porte to Orisson
8.8 Km. 685m elevation gain 2hours 34minutes walking time.
So as I leave St. Jean, still looking around me and admiring this town, but not this particularly steep hill directly in my path that it makes me wonder if I should go back and have another beer with Ellen. So one foot in front of the other, don’t think about it too much, you always get there. I start singing to myself, just quietly in my head, don’t want to upset the residents or do I let my mind wander. I opt for the latter ( I have heard myself singing …...no…. lets not go there...never mind torturing the residents…..I'm pretty fond of me and not into torturing myself, not today anyways ). I did find I was asking myself…...are you still thinking of this as a long hike or is it going to be something else. As I try to figure out what the latter might be I then wonder is this the start of the journey here or did it start back in Sligo, either a few weeks ago when I decided that yes I was definitely going to walk here or perhaps it was even 15 hours ago when I got on the 1am bus to get to Dublin Airport.
So many thoughts…...anyways…..would you believe it….the first hill, of so many, so so many, is behind me.
So to answer my own question: Where did it begin? I decided that it honestly does not matter where it began, just thinking about so got me over that hill. So what thoughts will the next hill bring?
Well let me tell you what the next hill brought, it brought a sibling, and another and then another…...but it was a beautiful day and the scenery was fantastic…..I have attached the link to the All Trails route that day, you can download the app for free and view the full gallery….it also shows where on the route each photograph was taken.
About two / three km on I came across a small sheltered copse that had a tiny shed with a drink and snack machine in it. I image it was set up by the owners of the house opposite on the left hand side of the road….very entrepreneurial of same residents as you can see a hill in front of you that though not too steep does stretch for about 600 meters until it disappears into the trees and you know fine well that those sneaky trees are just hiding another hill.
As I indulge myself in the shade a woman appears…..as they do tend to do….men as well….throughout the Camino. We recognise each other, it is the lady from Belgian that was seated in the front of the ride share from the airport. Her name is Louise and if I remember rightly is walking the full distance to Santiago. We sit and chat for a while, then walk for a bit before taking a seat at the junction where the route leaves the road and takes a grassy path for the first time. I have to admit that it is my idea to stop, I have tried prior to this to get Louise to go ahead but to no avail, maybe she is afraid I wont make it or perhaps while I was ogling the scenery from the bus the rest of them drew straws and she got the short one, be that as it may she insisted on staying with me even though I am slow on the hills and she is a bit of a flyer. While I like my long hikes I feel a bit humbled as I learn of some of the distances she has covered recently. Wow, impressive.
So the company is good and though I am imitating a slow moving person very well the time passes nicely as we share stories and thoughts. Nearly two hours later we arrive at Orisson….., tired but happy we drank a well earned beer as we took in the panoramic view from the terraced seating outside the refuge. Louise was heading to Albergue Borda which was another kilometre further on and close to a hundred metres up. Good luck to you Louise.
I had stopped the Alltrails app, see link below. According to it I had covered 8.8 km with an ascent of 685 meters. For some reason I thought the ascent was going to be a little over 400 meters. That’s, less to climb tomorrow I thought.
St. Jean Pied de Porte to Orisson
8.8 Km. 685m elevation gain 2hours 34minutes walking time.
So as I leave St. Jean, still looking around me and admiring this town, but not this particularly steep hill directly in my path that it makes me wonder if I should go back and have another beer with Ellen. So one foot in front of the other, don’t think about it too much, you always get there. I start singing to myself, just quietly in my head, don’t want to upset the residents or do I let my mind wander. I opt for the latter ( I have heard myself singing …...no…. lets not go there...never mind torturing the residents…..I'm pretty fond of me and not into torturing myself, not today anyways ). I did find I was asking myself…...are you still thinking of this as a long hike or is it going to be something else. As I try to figure out what the latter might be I then wonder is this the start of the journey here or did it start back in Sligo, either a few weeks ago when I decided that yes I was definitely going to walk here or perhaps it was even 15 hours ago when I got on the 1am bus to get to Dublin Airport.
So many thoughts…...anyways…..would you believe it….the first hill, of so many, so so many, is behind me.
So to answer my own question: Where did it begin? I decided that it honestly does not matter where it began, just thinking about so got me over that hill. So what thoughts will the next hill bring?
Well let me tell you what the next hill brought, it brought a sibling, and another and then another…...but it was a beautiful day and the scenery was fantastic…..I have attached the link to the All Trails route that day, you can download the app for free and view the full gallery….it also shows where on the route each photograph was taken.
About two / three km on I came across a small sheltered copse that had a tiny shed with a drink and snack machine in it. I image it was set up by the owners of the house opposite on the left hand side of the road….very entrepreneurial of same residents as you can see a hill in front of you that though not too steep does stretch for about 600 meters until it disappears into the trees and you know fine well that those sneaky trees are just hiding another hill.
As I indulge myself in the shade a woman appears…..as they do tend to do….men as well….throughout the Camino. We recognise each other, it is the lady from Belgian that was seated in the front of the ride share from the airport. Her name is Louise and if I remember rightly is walking the full distance to Santiago. We sit and chat for a while, then walk for a bit before taking a seat at the junction where the route leaves the road and takes a grassy path for the first time. I have to admit that it is my idea to stop, I have tried prior to this to get Louise to go ahead but to no avail, maybe she is afraid I wont make it or perhaps while I was ogling the scenery from the bus the rest of them drew straws and she got the short one, be that as it may she insisted on staying with me even though I am slow on the hills and she is a bit of a flyer. While I like my long hikes I feel a bit humbled as I learn of some of the distances she has covered recently. Wow, impressive.
So the company is good and though I am imitating a slow moving person very well the time passes nicely as we share stories and thoughts. Nearly two hours later we arrive at Orisson….., tired but happy we drank a well earned beer as we took in the panoramic view from the terraced seating outside the refuge. Louise was heading to Albergue Borda which was another kilometre further on and close to a hundred metres up. Good luck to you Louise.
I had stopped the Alltrails app, see link below. According to it I had covered 8.8 km with an ascent of 685 meters. For some reason I thought the ascent was going to be a little over 400 meters. That’s, less to climb tomorrow I thought.
Prior to meeting Louise I had stopped to remove my camera from my bag and lo and behold….no camera…..that cant be right I think as I rummage through all my carefully packed bags of various sizes in my bigger bag. Alas it is right. It is not there. When did I have it last…...damn my memory…...let me think……….I look at my gear strewn on the grass and think what was I looking for again ( only kidding, this time ). So I am pretty sure I packed it into the top of my rucksack after the first aid kit incident….or did I? Did I open my bag when waiting on the ride outside of Biarritz airport? When I was packing away the roll while sitting on a step in St. Jean did I leave it on the street? I thought briefly, and it was a brief thought, about going back…..no, I didn’t come here to take photographs and I was a bit behind time as it was. Feck it, I pack up again and motor on. Looking back on it I do wonder how I found it so easy to let go of the camera, after all it was a pretty good camera, a Panasonic FZ82, I have been using them since 2008. I seem to get about 4/5 years out of each one before either the weather in Ireland or a tumble down one too many gorges in Crete takes its toll. I think that was my fourth Panasonic Lumix. ( Will it be my last?)
Orisson is very nice and I would have no hesitation in recommending it. All the necessary facilities were there, modern and clean. I was in a room with three double bunks and as a late arrival had a top one. On the bottom was an older German gent, a young couple that spoke in whispers….not sure where they were from ( not that it matters ) and a couple around my own age from the Far East. No sooner had I showered than it was time for dinner so we did not get a chance to converse however I did bump into the German gent briefly about 5 days later.
Food in Orisson was great, it came with wine and water, I do tend to prioritise the former. I think there were 5 / 6 decent sized tables, I think I read somewhere that they can accommodate 28 bodies, all the seats were full. I asked a blond lady if it was okay to sit beside her and her friends….no problem. Beside me to my left a woman from Sweden, Marie who is walking with her husband and brother, opposite me is a couple from South Africa. So here is the thing…..like so many Irish people I can talk until the cows come home…..as I have no cows that’s a lot of talking to get through (that said I have several friends that could look after a cow for me and should you wish to shut me up for a bit just buy me a cow ) while there is another side of me that is not necessarily shy but more reclusive. So at 60 years of age I will talk to anyone and everyone yet there is that degree of hesitancy, nervousness that will accompany me as I know I about to meet strangers. I can still remember having that feeling as I entered the dining room in Orisson……...I was sat down for less than 5 minutes and I might as well be in Clancy’s bar in Crosna chatting to the regulars. Everything just felt so comfortable, so right. Harmony.
As I said the food was better than good but the company was different, it was special, actually a bit more than special. The lady I had asked was it okay to sit beside was one of three Spanish senoritas. The other two ladies are sisters while she is their sister in law. We are sitting for about 2 hours. While I do chat to everybody around me I do feel more drawn to my right….in case you are wondering Marie is to my left and the couple from S.A. are facing me.
Not sure if it okay to mention their names so let’s call them P, E and M for now. So I signed up to Duolingo to take on board a bit of Spanish before making this trip, as I was asked what I wanted for the main course I think I said “sin carne” ( without meat ) yea know what I forgot I was still in France….that’s okay…..well in normal company it probably would have been okay…...it turns out the three Spanish ladies were not normal company and thought it was hilarious …… it was explained what I should say was “no como carne” I don’t eat meat. So as this is explained to me P decides to tell me how to say the same in French, oh wow, seriously my head is starting to hurt. I exclaim to her please no, I am so tired and my noggin is full plus I leave France in a few hours time. As things stand I am running a bit on empty here, 40 hours without sleep and bit of travelling under the belt. ( on a side note: P if, which I hope we do meet up again remind me to tell you about my French teacher…..she was a B”?@! with a capital B, she put me off French for life )
It’s funny what can trigger something: “no come carne” those three words I believe helped form a bond with the three, that I now decided were perhaps a little crazy…...Three Crazy Spanish ladies….we’ll see.
Yea know what it was a great evening, too short, but don’t the good ones always feel so.
When dinner finished I bought a beer and enjoyed it on the terrace opposite, reflecting in the dark on the first few hours of this walk and why I was here before turning in.
What a first day on the Camino.
https://www.alltrails.com/explore/recording/afternoon-hike-de9240f-86
Food in Orisson was great, it came with wine and water, I do tend to prioritise the former. I think there were 5 / 6 decent sized tables, I think I read somewhere that they can accommodate 28 bodies, all the seats were full. I asked a blond lady if it was okay to sit beside her and her friends….no problem. Beside me to my left a woman from Sweden, Marie who is walking with her husband and brother, opposite me is a couple from South Africa. So here is the thing…..like so many Irish people I can talk until the cows come home…..as I have no cows that’s a lot of talking to get through (that said I have several friends that could look after a cow for me and should you wish to shut me up for a bit just buy me a cow ) while there is another side of me that is not necessarily shy but more reclusive. So at 60 years of age I will talk to anyone and everyone yet there is that degree of hesitancy, nervousness that will accompany me as I know I about to meet strangers. I can still remember having that feeling as I entered the dining room in Orisson……...I was sat down for less than 5 minutes and I might as well be in Clancy’s bar in Crosna chatting to the regulars. Everything just felt so comfortable, so right. Harmony.
As I said the food was better than good but the company was different, it was special, actually a bit more than special. The lady I had asked was it okay to sit beside was one of three Spanish senoritas. The other two ladies are sisters while she is their sister in law. We are sitting for about 2 hours. While I do chat to everybody around me I do feel more drawn to my right….in case you are wondering Marie is to my left and the couple from S.A. are facing me.
Not sure if it okay to mention their names so let’s call them P, E and M for now. So I signed up to Duolingo to take on board a bit of Spanish before making this trip, as I was asked what I wanted for the main course I think I said “sin carne” ( without meat ) yea know what I forgot I was still in France….that’s okay…..well in normal company it probably would have been okay…...it turns out the three Spanish ladies were not normal company and thought it was hilarious …… it was explained what I should say was “no como carne” I don’t eat meat. So as this is explained to me P decides to tell me how to say the same in French, oh wow, seriously my head is starting to hurt. I exclaim to her please no, I am so tired and my noggin is full plus I leave France in a few hours time. As things stand I am running a bit on empty here, 40 hours without sleep and bit of travelling under the belt. ( on a side note: P if, which I hope we do meet up again remind me to tell you about my French teacher…..she was a B”?@! with a capital B, she put me off French for life )
It’s funny what can trigger something: “no come carne” those three words I believe helped form a bond with the three, that I now decided were perhaps a little crazy…...Three Crazy Spanish ladies….we’ll see.
Yea know what it was a great evening, too short, but don’t the good ones always feel so.
When dinner finished I bought a beer and enjoyed it on the terrace opposite, reflecting in the dark on the first few hours of this walk and why I was here before turning in.
What a first day on the Camino.
https://www.alltrails.com/explore/recording/afternoon-hike-de9240f-86