O'Cebriero

Lucy, Maggie and I are sharing two adjoining bunks, and when we went to have showers, got to know each other very well indeed given there were no doors - school/pool spec. Surprisingly to Lucy and I, Maggie was the prude about this - she's since indignantly asked every pilgrim in town staying elsewhere if they have doors on their showers.

I kneaded my laundry in the freezing water next to Fabrice, hung it out with pegs loaned by Lucy, and then went to get a wine, joined by them one by one and then stragglers until our table in the alley had three others attached to it and about 15 pilgrims around it.

Bells pealing, Fabrice let me rummage around in his bag to borrow a jacket for the cold church and we all hustled up to mass, Lucy setting me off with the giggles a few times as our priest (a Patrick Dempsey lookalike) herded us through a half hour ceremony.

It finished with a special pilgrim portion, where we all stood in a circle and he handed out pebbles with yellow arrows painted on. There was a prayer I can't remember, because someone from each language had to read it to the group. Lucy and I were the only native English speakers and she wasn't having a bar of it so I had to. Nervous, I spoke clearly and retained nothing except the last line: be happy - make others happy.

After we went to dinner, and after they left I joined my Camino cousins, the Brazillians and Italians, at their table and had a grand old bilingual time. They're a big lot - I like them very much but they are too many to make a family out of so cousins it is.

Lucy and I are currently shaking with laughter in our bottom bunks listening to Maggie huff and puff in French at the snorers. I am so scared for this to end. If I walk with them tomorrow it might be harder later. But is that reason not to?

Why now. Why *now* am I finding these people, letting them find me? Another lesson, I'm sure. In Pamplona I think I needed to let the others pass and walk alone, I wonder if now, on the other end of the journey, it is the opposite. A test - can you leave this, can you appreciate something inherently temporary? Can you love and lose?Read more