St. Jean Pied de Port, France. Monday. A charming village marks the beginning of the Camino Frances, the French Camino that is the most popular of the routes to Santiago de Compostela. We’re still in Basque Country, but the Spanish
Waking Up in Roncesvalles Roncesvalles, Spain. Wednesday. The monastery’s automated klieg lights flipped on at 6a.m. Like a small child, I thought if I put my hands over my eyes, the lights would go away. The showers operated on a
Finally got Internet and permission to use lap top. What can I say about the past few days? I absolutely loved Saint Jean Pied de Port. I was in high spirits with looking, tasting, and walking up and down the
I don’t mind pain. It’s damage that concerns me. Today I seem to have struck a new collective bargaining agreement with the unions that operate my right calf, but the left is implacably opposed to my designs. In past days
We spent a few hours yesterday in a café-bar in Pamplona. The woman tending bar there thought I looked like a certain actor. I left to get a haircut. Several places offered them for 30 Euros, but I found one
On Saturday night in Puente La Reina we walked the 300 meters to the main plaza, where carpenters were putting the finishing touches on elevated platforms in the shape of a rectangle with three sides, with the missing side opening
The End of Childhood is the End of Certainty I won’t get into how, but I found myself explaining to Carrie what I know of the imago, or our image of what attracts us in a mate, and the operation
The Albergue Municipal in Los Arcos was staffed by volunteers, a Belgian couple. The man, rotund and pink-cheeked, was pleasant enough. I checked in and had barely gone upstairs to my dormitory, Bed #6, when I heard Julio downstairs. The
To Viana Last night in Los Arcos Julio and I shared two bottles of Rioja with our young friends Steffi, of Germany, and Jethro, of England. Julio wanted to get up at five in the morning. “Julio, that’s not humane.
