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Published: March 17th 2011
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"Buen Camino"
Happy Saint Patricks Day: Searching For Some Ibuprofin And A Green Beer In No Particular Order.
Linsey and I hit the road on Tuesday morning determined to make it to Puente de la Reina, the small town that evaded us the day before due to the imposibility of the metric system. Kilometers? We made the 4 mile trek into town and toured the local church which was built in the 12th century. It was quite a spectacle but unfortunately we only had 5 minutes to tour the town, grab some bread, and start a return hike back to Pamplona to catch a bus. We had 5 hours to hike 12 miles back up and over a mountain and into Pamplona. Linsey seemed optomistic but I asked the Priest for a little spiritual assistance. The joke fell flat because nobody speaks a word of English, including the less than amused priest. Linsey´s ability to not only speak in Spanish but to have meaningful and insightful conversations with hikers, preachers, and drinkers has left me in awe. She usually talks for a couple minutes and impresses the locals. They then turn to me where I respond with a smile,
Lunch
wine, cheese, fresh bread, and local meat. a nod, and a general thumbs up, unless I´m feeling wild and then I go for the "High-Five" (also surprisingly not cross-cultural so Ive been instructing proper form for the high-five.)
We only stopped once in our 12 miles but it was to eat fresh bread, prosscuito, cheese and some drink a couple sips of Rioja. We lounged on our packs overlooking the green rolling hills dotted with small Spanish towns, only visible by a pointed steeple reaching out above the few surrounding houses. We made it back to Pamplona with time to spare. We hopped a cheap bus, split a taxi with some wild individuals, and ended up in St. Jean Pied de Port, the starting point for the Camino. St. Jean is a small French town nestled in the foot of the Pyrenese. It is in the French portion of Basque country, a culturally unique section of southern France and Northern Spain. Linsey and I roamed the tiny streets and found a Basque restaurant tucked at the dead end of side-road. Despite not understanding the French on the menu it was the best meal of the trip so far. A local vegetable soup, steak, fried potatos, vegetables,
St Jean
small streets winding through St. Jean and a glass of Bordeaux topped off with chocolate mousse. Honestly, the meal alone may have been worth the trip. It is amazing how trancendent food can be. Across language, borders, and cultures, a good meal can remind you that life is for savouring.
A hostel full of snoring does not prepare a person for a 16 mile hike over the Pyrenes. The people that we have met have been incredibly selfless, outgoing, and helpful, but that doesn´t change the fact that some sound like a wheezing freight train while they sleep. So, after a restless sleep Linsey and I took off from St. Jean and began are ascent. The trail through the mountains is supposedly the toughest of the entire Camino but we took it in stride. It is tough to complain about some uphill climbs when you look to either side and see the sprawling snow covered mountains of Spain and France.
After a full days hike we arrived in Roncesvalles. The albergue (hostel) was part of a monastery built in the 13th century. Two Australlians joined Linsey and I for a meal at the only restaurant in town. (a pilgrims meal is around 8 euros
St Jean Bridge
morning before heading over the mountains and has meat, bread, vegetables, and wine- tough to beat.) After a draining hike and a rejuvinating meal we made our way to the chapel for the 8 o´clock Pilgrims service. The chapel had about 16 pews but was surrounded by towering columns and ancient stained glass. Three priests presided over the service provided the sacrament and then blessed the Pilgrims. Without understanding any of the Spanish the history and sincerity behind the service made quite an impression.
Linsey and I made our way to the hostel to read and write and enjoy the company of the random amalgamation of fellow pilgrims and friends. The night drew to a close with the skies opening and the realization that our time in the sun had ended and the promised days of a soggy Spain were begining. More on that later... Time for a green beer.
Cheers.
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