Day 10-August 31: dedicated to my 7 nieces and nephews

Day 10- Nancy left with someone else's walking sticks. Full moon again leaving Navarette but soon cloudy. Extremely humid- crushing. Topography changing - flat top mountains surrounded by vineyards for 360 degrees. Wine appellation of this region- Rioja. Not as striking or beautiful as  other vistas have been.

The first young man I met at 7:00 on the road today,  was William from California. His story brings me to today's dedication. 

From Paris, William took a train to the wrong St.Jean, which is the departure point for the Camino Frances. So he doubled back to the closest linking point which was Biarritz. He arrived too late to take the train to Bayonne and didn't have 100€ for a taxi, so he WALKED all night from Biarritz to Bayonne. He arrived to take the first train from there to the right St.Jean Pied de PORT. There at 9:00 am, he then proceeded to hike up the Pyrenees - almost 30 km and at some point fainted. Got up and made it to Roncesvalles as the hostel was about to close, which is at 10:00 pm.  He was on his feet and without sleep for over 48 hours! Now that is determination! And because he is young, he was fearless. We older people can be just as determined but we are maybe not so fearless?

Day 10 (yesterday)  was a weepy day for me. I cried on and off all morning, as I hiked mainly by myself. I really don't know why; a few things.  I was a little lonesome too I think. I hadn't had any emails from family, and ... you just have to have a down day once in a while I guess.  No sun, so no sun salutation for the first time. There were no towns to stop and eat breakfast in, after we left Navarette, so I didn't get to really eat until 11 am.

So in the less than perky mood I was in, let me tell you about some of the people I have met on the Camino, who put my little " Pity Party" to shame.

Marina is a beautiful Arménien refugee who was living in Syria. She was raped at 13 and saw her mother raped by Syrian army soldiers. Armenians are a minority in that country.  She and her family have since moved to Sweden, but she is doing the Camino, to help her move forward in her life. She cannot sustain a healthy relationship with any man, because of what happened to her, and what continues to happen to Armenians.  She bared her heart and soul to speak of this to a fellow Canadian, who shared it with me. I think he felt he had to.  

Gilles, un canadien de 68 ans, a récemment perdu sa fille de 42 ans, à ALS, Lou Gehrig's disease. Elle avait trois enfants.  Gilles a senti la présence de sa fille, dans l'église à Los Arcos.  Cela l'a soulagé.

A German lady my age, whom I befriended from Day One, with my little bit of German, shared on Day 8 that she is terminally ill with brain cancer. It had been in remission. She goes to the hospital as soon as she returns to Pottsdam, for surgery, but the doctor's hold little hope. She has less than six months to live and is hoping for a miracle by walking the Camino.

I met Martin on the hottest day, two days ago. He had no backpack, no food and no water. His head was covered so we could only see his eyes.  His feet were wrapped in rags, which barely covered his feet.  e were walking on small stone paths that day. He refused any and all offers of food and water. Someone told us his name was Martin and he was French, because they had walked with him earlier, when he was speaking.  As one person said "Un vrai pèlerin  - c'est l'abandon total".  And it was. For some reason, I just cried for the next two km, thinking who am I to call myself a pilgrim.  I don't know the meaning of the word.  I gave him a little Canada pin, which he accepted with a gesture of thanks, taping his heart. And I went on my way, pondering what I had just seen and experienced.

Then there is Nicole, again a woman my age, whose partner threw her out in Feb. She is homeless and jobless, and is hiking the Camino on very little money,  trying to get through this huge loss, financial as well as emotional, because she has nothing. Common law in France counts for nothing, apparently, when it comes to division of assets. 

A very apropos ending to this day, was the huge, violent storm that came through Azofra forty five minutes after Nancy and I checked into that hostel.  It was frightening, with hail the size of marbles and when they hit the clay tiled roof and all those windows, it was horrific.

The storm broke the heat wave though, and the air cooled considerably.  I drank two glasses of wine with my Peregrino supper, and went to sleep in a room that had a window: it was so nice and cool.

So nieces and nephews, carpe diem! You are young, you are invincible and the world is your oyster. Go and conquer.

With love and gratitude from Azofra, Spain.  Ma tante Joanne

Such a fraternité- met a Dutchman who wrote a small book on the best 50 albergues on the Camino.