An alternative route to Markina-Xemein

I woke this morning while still dark. The sounds of packs russeling, silouetted pilgrims with torches on their forheads were packing their gear. Whispers of many languages softly babbling, toilets flushing, a street cleaner roaring up the streets. The morning is hustling, with or without electricity.
I watched pilgrims with ponchos and pack covers marching off in the pouring rain to challenge the slippery slopes. I thought, " I don't feel that brave this morning." Many people were choosing to take a bus or train to the next town or change their coarse altogether.
By the time I set up to go, the lights came on. I met Inge (from Holland), who asked me a question in Dutch. Since I've been here, there are several times that people assumed I was a Hollander.
Inge and I were so much enjoying a conversation, and we agreed that we should go to breakfast and continue our visit. At that moment, no hike or anything was more important than to sit and enjoy eachothers company.
Now that's the comino to me. Go organically, and let the spirit guide.
Another mother and daughter couple ( from Munich)decided to take the bus to Markina. I thought that was a good idea. I'm in no way wanting to challenge the slippery slopes.
Inge went off to Bilboa. We all kissed goodbye and went our way. I needed a rest day. And if I want to meet Mario in Santiago by October 5th. I may have to do a couple of leaps. And this climb today was worth the skipping.
So here I am, in Markina, in another donativo. It's humbling to be here. I almost turned around and bolted for a hotel. But it is really interesting to confront the things that make me uncomfortable. For that, sometimes it is a larger challenge than a mountain. And then it's not so bad. This old monastary has been my muse. I want to write again. We never know where our muse will come from.En savoir plus