Taking The Wrong Train

Today is Monday, Sept. 10, and I am writing from Roncesvalles, Spain. I´m on a timed computer, and I don´t think I have access to another internet screen, so I don´t think I´ll have any links here, but if you´re interested you can Google any of the places and see pictures and find out more. Anyway, on to the adventure. Friday, I found my bus to Stansted after a ¨dry run¨ and got to the airport in good time. I´d never been there before, but it´s small, and easy to get around in. The only thing is, the gates are like the train platforms in London. They don´t really tell you what gate the plane is going to be at till almost before it arrives. So there are these screens that you keep watching to see your flight has been assigned a gate, THEN you run down to the gate to wait. Also, I flew on Ryanair, which has ¨free seating¨in that it´s first come first serve. Some people had ¨prioritý¨I didn´t, but again managed a asile seat with no one inbetween. Everything was on time and fine. I pretty much napped the whole way. Then on landing, the ¨customs¨was just a quick line where my passport was stamped, and then on to baggage. I had to find an ATM, as you can´t get Euros in London, and I had no useable cash. That done, I got my pack (which I had had to send thru the x-ray machine myself as it was considered "outsized" baggage). Then I got directions for the bus to Bayonne, where I would get my train ticket for St. Jean Pied de Port, where many people begin the Camino.

All was great, in fact, I met 2 German women, ages 60 and 71, who were also on their way. Trust me, I have been quite humbled in any kind of physical ability I might have had. These people walk like fiends! But it´s all right. Everyone does go at their own pace, and no one is thought less of for walking slower. Better to be slow and get there. So, the younger woman spoke English very well and we chated a bit. The ride to Bayonne was lovely, it was sunny, warm but not hot, and we passed through several small villages on our way. As much as possible, I read street signs, store signs, and listened to conversations to see what I could understand.

Once at the station, I got my ticket in good order, then settled to wait. There was a small cafe, so I went in an ordered a paella, which turned out to be of the ¨heat and serve" variety, but oh, well, it did the job. By then, a lot of people were turning up for the trains, and there were a lot of them coming and going in both directions. I was on the right platform, but I read the signs wrong and ended up getting on the wrong train, which I realized as soon as it started moving. I had thought the signs said the train arrives at this time and leaves at that time, but actually they were signs for 2 different trains--one arriving on the platform at a certain time and ANOTHER train leaving at the 2nd time. Well, I got on the first train when I should have been on the second, and ended up headed to Bordeaux. I knew as soon as I left, and a nice woman who had just had major dental work showed me her timetable and said I should get off at Dax and come back--which I did. Fortunately, it was only a half hour ride, but the wait for the next train back was long, and by the time I got back to Bayonne, it was nearly 10pm, and I just couldn´t face getting to St. Jean when everything was closed. So, I went across the street to a bar that had a hotel sign on it, and asked about a room. Remember, I don´t speak any French, but somehow I got my need across, and the man kind of looked at me, and I know he asked me, ¨You want a room with a shower, right?" RIGHT!

So, I paid, they gave me a key and told me how to get through the door. Then I fell into the adventure of getting into a room in a small, French hotel. The door had a combination keypad, so got through that OK, and a motion sensor light, but then there was a narrow, winding staircase that was pitch dark! I looked around for some kind of light switch, but none to be found. I had a flashlight in my pack, but would have to take it off to get it, and there was not enough room, so I felt my way quietly up the stairs. After the first turn, there was a landing with some numbered rooms. I got the light, found out that mine (#19) was not there, so looked for more stairs. Found them, and got to the 2nd floor, and my room, which was in a corner next to a separate shower room. The actual toilet was across the hall, but once in my room, I realized it had a wonderful small shower of its own. PERFECTION! It´s amazing how big and wonderful the small things are when you really need or want them. And what I wanted right then was a SHOWER. Toilet across the hall was no problem when I had that!

So, shower it was, and then I was able to think straight, and try to get myself organized for the following day. I had looked on the schedule and knew the train to St. Jean left in the morning at around 8, so I tried to figure out some things to take out of my pack, but didn´t manage at that time. Then, I went to the window which was large, high, open, and had no screen on it, but the shutters were closed and hooked across it, making a nice breeze in the room. There was a chair right by the window, and I just sat there, content to listen to the bar/restaurant noises, the conversations, the clinking of dishes and silverware, and enjoying the aromas the wafted upward. The restaurant/hotel was on a corner across from another restaurant, so there was a lot of activity, but somehow, the noise was quite comforting. I was in France, I had made a mistake and corrected it, I had found a room, I was clean, and I was happy to be just where I was. I knew, somehow, that even my ¨mistake¨was right, because it had brought me here, and whatever happened the next day would be appropriate. I knew I was loved and watched over, and all would be well. "Tranqille" as the French say. And so it was.

Blessings of the road,

Crone