Bayonne: the adventure begins

Day 1
I arrive in Biarritz, but my rucsac doesn't make it! So the adventure begins with nothing on my back, and the opportunity to do anything I like. The airport palm tree makes me feel safe, comforted even; I decide to explore Bayonne for the day (the next flight from Stansted arrives tonight), which wasn't on the itinerary at all but is close to here and said to be really beautiful. Bonus! 1 hour's walking ahead. Hooray for the Camino!
En route, a Carmelite nun at the convent door: 'vous pouvez entrer l'eglise pour prier'. Silence, warmth, depth. I lie on the stone floor in tears, no clear reason why, except 'everything'; the sense of embrace, peace. I breathe ... relief.

A wander through a very beautiful and fashionable city, a baguette at the side of the river, encounter with my first Spanish pilgrims (I almost understood them!), a kindly welcome in a private pilgrims' hostel and my first pilgrimage stamp. A nap, and then the very welcome email confirmation that my rucsac had reached the airport. A galette de sarasin in the evening sun at the ocean in Biarritz, with a glass of Breton cider. Happy, happy adventuring!

Jürgen, retried orthopaedic doctor from Köln, Camino Frances. Veronique, my host ('le basque est stupide! Est-ce que on parle latin en Italie?!': a political tirade. My french is pretty good, it seems, to understand all that!). Tatiana and Serghei, not yet so lucky with their missing luggage from Canada/Moldova, Vamino Frances. Camille, French pèlerine at the Refuge des Pèlerins, Camino del Norte.

I have such a 'story': it seems to be complex and wonderful and awful; but so too - I have to presume, whether disclosed or not - does any individual. And so does every tree, every flower! What a wonder.

There's welcome for me from so many directions.Baca lagi