Train to St. Jean Pied de Port

Today writing from my alburge (pilgrim hostel) in Zubiri, Spain. How I got here is another adventure. First, I have to describe my journey to St. Jean Pied de Port, where most people begin the Camino if they are going to go ¨the whole way¨. Since I had missed the train the day before, I was determined not to this morning. I had another wonderful shower, said goodbye to my little room, and headed across the street to the Station (Gare). The ticket office was already open, so had my billete in good time, and got a cafe au lait and croissant from the little place across from the office. After that, I negotiated the cave to the bathroom, and thus fortified, I decided to just wait at the train platform, since I already had that information.
For a while, there were no trains, then one with only 2 cars pulled up at the platform and stopped. It sat there. Should I get on? Was that the one? The numbers were different from the ones on my ticket. What should I do? Then, I began to notice that several people dressed like me, with backpacks and walking sticks, etc. were gathering. This must be it! But, I was afraid to get on. Finally, I couldn´t wait any longer, and seeing an older man at the window, I tapped and mouthed ¨St. Jean Pied de Port?¨ He nodded vigorously and tried to open the door for me, but the other car´s door was already open, so I went in there and came into the car where he was sitting with his friend, a small man with a knitted cap and a wooden stick. They had backpacks with the scallop shell, so I knew I was in the right place.
Shortly after a young man with a hat got on, and then a couple, and I could see the man was blind and the woman leading him. They, too, were going to walk. My heart was so full, just being in the train with these people, and we all just sort of struck up a conversation with English, French, Spanish, maybe a little Polish, too. After a bit, the train started to go, and we all fell quiet. As we moved up into the mountains, the clouds came down, low and damp, and I kept thinking of the terrain in North Carolina, around Asheville, Black Mountain, and Montreat. It´s very similar. There were beautiful small gardens with ripening tomatoes and haricot verte. There were cows and sheep, there were the white buildings with the red tiled roofs. It was getting closer, and I was going to do this. It´s very hard to describe everything that I was feeling all at once. I felt surrounded by kindred spirits. I felt nervous. I was scared. I was intimidated and ready, all at the same time. Finally, the train pulled in to the little station, and we all got out and started walking.
Next stop, the official Pilgrim´s Office to become a pilgrim...
Love and blessings to you all...
Crone

Comments

  1. HelenSeptember 11, 2007 at 2:42 PM

    Linda, I am so glad you are sharing this with us!

    ReplyDelete
  2. gggrannySeptember 12, 2007 at 12:12 PM

    I know how hard it is to negotiate in a foreign city and you are doing a great job. It is so good to keep up with your journey.

    ReplyDelete

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