an epilogue to the longest day?

(Sorry 'bout that, but after 36 hours I had to crash)...

So where was I?

I had just left the airport in a taxi, headed to the train station with a cabbie who, in Spanish, was telling me that I didn't want to go where I was being taken! The discussion was strained to say the least, given the language barrier and a too-dead-to-care attitude from my cell phone battery. Finally, the cabbie (cabby?, cabbie looks more European) called HQ and received a response that, among 745 other words, contained the conversational bullet points: tren (train), Pamplona, and Si! A round of smiles ensued and shortly I was delivered to Atocha.

Battle won, but the war raged on.

Now I stood on the second floor of a large building seeing nothing that appeared to say "All lost gringos report to the ticket agent". Eventually I found what appeared to be an information office where they kindly directed me to the area where I could get my Europass activated. Someone else, after a short wait in line, directed me to the correct, and much longer, line. After working my way to the front of this line I was told that I could activate the ticket but could not ride on the train because I had no reservation! A couple of skipped heart beats later, I found that the reservation was easily obtained with the payment of an additional fee (6 Euro).

I stepped away from the counter with my newly activated Europass and reservation and was approached by a gentleman who asked if I was walking the Camino. His name is Larry, but he goes by Yogi (as in Berra, he's from NYC). I told him I was and quickly inquired, "Do you speak Spanish?" to which he replied "Un poco". So we hung together until our train left for Pamplona, by which time we had met Sharon from Seattle who is doing her sixth Camino, and Dirk, a German living in N. Carolina.

Once in Pamplona, Yogi, Dirk and I went thirdsies on a taxi that took us to St. Jean Pied de Port, the east terminus of the Napoleon Way, the primary route of El Camino de Santiago.

Very clean, very modern train to Pamplona. Good thing I had a reserved seat!

After a very interesting trip over about 70km of winding mountain road we arrived. We paid about 30 Euro each for the trip, but arrived about 3 hours earlier than others from the train who had waited for the bus and saved about 10 Euro ($12).

We strolled down stone streets through this picturesque French town, registering for our Passport (Credencial del Peregrino) and gathering information that will help smooth (if not pave) The Way. Also on the must-do list: purchase a souvenir/walking staff (those of you that have seen my always-present companion "Fred" may not believe I left home without him. I was afraid the airlines would lose or break him and, after carrying my custom walking stick over 2,000 miles of back country trekking I couldn't bear the idea of his demise).

Yogi and I checked into our first albergue of this Camino. It was getting late in the day and several had signs out that they were full, but we were able to get two of the last beds (a bunk bed in "a box")

 at Le Chemin vers l'etoile

(I believe that means a charming little place, or they have Charman paper in the toilet).

After devouring a chicken burger and my first French fries, with a capital F (they taste the same as fries without the capital F) I came back and attempted to write, soon finding futility in the effort, then crashed.

During the night my mind raced. I had been told that the first day was perhaps the hardest of all on the Camino, both distance and elevation-wise (crossing about 4500 feet above sea level and covering 17 miles before reaching a resting spot)! I was tired, I was disorganized, I knew I had everything in my pack but had no idea where, it was dark and I was paranoid about creating light and noise that would awaken box-mates. My legs were cramping, my attitude sinking, I began to question my preparation, my commitment and my ability in general. I then made what I hope will prove to be the best decision of My Camino. I would take a down day, before even beginning my trek!

I need to figure out my pack, find where items are and move the important ones to the top of the large pocket of my borrowed pack. I need to look around town and get comfortable and familiar with the money. I need a lot: time, rest, confidence. It seemed unthinkable to rest a day before I even began but I believe it is exactly what is needed. Besides, this is a beautiful little Basque/French village in the Pyrenees! How often do you get to see something like this?

As narrow as the streets are they still park on the side of the rue. Traffic gathered early this morning for the daily mass at the church down the street.

Nice crowd for a daily mass. The cathedrals are wonderous!

The writing on the back wall of the church is NOT French, but Basque. Literally translated it says "I looked at the town". Perhaps a less literal translation would be "He looks after his sheep"?

Mary's statue appears to be quite old as the colors have faded considerably.

The bridge and clock tower in historic St. Jean, rue de La Citadelle

The Office de Peregrino where they issue the Credencial del Peregrino

Tomorrow will be more walking, less talking. It appears that my plan to stay put for another day may not set well with Eric, the proprietor, who says they are already booked for tonight. I may need to relocate. Stay tuned!