Le cri de la girafe

Did you know that a giraffe does not make a sound like other animals? A dog barks, a cat meows, a horse neighs, a donkey brays… “what sound does a giraffe make?” was a question our host faced from her young daughter when they first moved to Navarrenx and had started renovating the property they had recently bought. The question arose after they discovered a tall chimney on the property, vestiges of a previous life as a bakery, and they both imagined a giraffe 🦒 peeking through some of the holes that had formed over the years of neglect. Not being able to answer her daughter regarding the particular question, mum duly did some research and found to her amazement, that giraffes in actual fact are mute! Interesting, however there is more to this tale. The renovation was to create a Gite, a type of B&B mainly for pilgrims sharing dorm like rooms and other facilities… and they were in need of a name! “What better name than The cry of the giraffe? Something that doesn’t actually exist?” The name was made even more fitting by a further piece of information… giraffes in fact, snore…. and so do pilgrims!

This and many other stories were shared at the dinner table this evening. Three French, a South Korean, a South African, two Swiss, ourselves and our hosts. It has been a repeat performance evening after evening in the Gites and the farm houses. Sometimes Bill and I are the only English speakers present and everyone tries hard to speak a little English and a little French. Despite the language barrier it is undeniably a time of conviviality. Everyone comes together to eat, share the food, the drink and the day’s stories. The hosts serve the food and drinks, give a history of their provenance and generally ease everyone into the conversation. They also provide you with lots of information… closest boulangerie, (lunch for the day ahead), pharmacy, bank, weather forecast and the best way out of town!

These are the type of people Bill calls angels without wings. The come into our lives just as we start to waver from our intentions. They turn up and provide just the right amount of encouragement or just the right thing that you need at that very moment. This morning after three hours of walking, two big climbs and the heat beginning to make itself unpleasant, we came across a cafè. The owner came towards us offering cool drinks and suggesting a snack from his menu. Seeing we were pilgrims he also suggested a sandwich and then described a picnic spot… only two hour’s walk away! Yes, it was all he said and two hours later we joined a number of other pilgrims, at a picnic table, surrounded by a small forest and a fountain for drinking water.

Our hosts, not only welcomed us warmly but offered to do our laundry … and had it ready for us to collect after a delicious meal. At the church, there was a welcoming committee encouraging pilgrims to learn about the history of the place and inviting them to stay for Mass and a special blessing. This is where we met Richard again… three times in one day! He has been like a guardian angel… offering advice… meals, weather report, short cuts and “I will ask for you!” whenever there is a lot of French spoken and we look like we have no idea about what is going on.

These encounters have been a blessing, a gift. Without them we would have lost heart on occasion. Special angels without wings but with a smile, a kind word and a sharing of themselves unreservedly, expecting nothing in return.

This is the way…

There is a popular Disney cartoon based on the Star Wars world called “The Mallorian.” In it, there are many options and choices as to the way forward for this outworlder, the Mallorian. He stops and ponders his options and, like the white hatted cowboy of westerns, ends up taking on the troubles of the weak simply because it is the right thing to do. He is often ending his seemingly complex decision-making with the simple phrase, “This is the way!” There is no argument with his direction after this. For better or worse, he stays the course.

During the Camino, we have often found ourselves repeating this phrase as we try to work out, through painted signs, GPS navigation on phones, and word of mouth, what is the best way forward. We eventually see it and share with each other the correct direction with the phrase: This is the way. ” Pilgrims take heart and look forward confidently. There is little argument after this.

With the pilgrimage, there are occasions where there are choices or variants to the official direction. There are sometimes two or three or even more variants. They take quite an amount of planning as they sometimes require a choice of a shorter distance for a less beautiful track or a choice of roadway or dirt (mud?). Sometimes, it is a choice of going an extra kilometre or so to visit a chapel on a hill (why do they build many churches on the top of hills?) or take a “short-cut”.  Will this chapel even be open? or shut like quite a few? To this and all the choices we make, the fundamental answer remains, echoing in one’s head: “This is the way.”

There are sometimes moments when one wonders what it is all about, why did I start? Do I really want to begin another twenty kilometres tomorrow? You wake up, prepare the morning ritual and know that there is a basic certainty and confidence which comes with the first steps, and dare I say joy, which comes with the knowledge that you are following that early impulse: “This is the way”. We look forward to finishing one of our “ways” at Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in the next few days.

Limitations… Limits

One minute you’re soaring, headed for the stars and the next you find yourself flat on the ground looking up at those very same stars that now seem unreachable.

I have gone through a vast learning curve over the last few days… It’s  been hot and humid, not 30 degrees, about 28 and quite the challenge for us to walk in! We start early and walk for about two, maybe three hours depending on where the park seats are, or if there is a town with a café.  About this time, we swap our bandanas for our floppy hat and put on sunscreen. We try to keep up the same pace as the morning, but either the sun, or the path slow us down.

Early morning promising hot weather.

The paths varied, mud, gravel, slippery surfaces, the uphill, downhill all play a part… so we stop to rest after about an hour, sometimes after an hour and a half. After about seven hours on the road, we arrive at our lodgings,  tired and hot, not wanting to do anything else but stop, have a drink and maybe lie down. We have been lucky, or Bill has done some amazing forward planning, as some places have swimming pools! I’ve been in once, but Bill has used every single one of them… cold at first but refreshingly invigorating.

What I learnt after four consecutive hot, steamy days, followed by overnight thunderstorms and a few tumbles on our part (I have tripped, stumbled, lost my balance and fallen, Bill has slipped and landed heavily) is that one must accept one’s limitations and if necessary, adapt to the new circumstances! Today we faced a 30+ kilometre walk… 1. miscalculation?… no… it was a matter of where there was a bed for the night… 2. over-estimation of how far we could walk? … perhaps… despite, or maybe because of our training in Melbourne, we definitely thought that since we could walk 25 kms, 30 kms after 5 weeks of non stop walking… we would be able to do it easily! Not so, we have found our new limit is 20 kms, and probably 25 degrees. We don’t like climbing up steep slopes, especially three or four successive ones, nor ones that go on forever. Neither do we like steep descents and uneven paths with differently sized stones… paths that turn into streams or slippery, muddy quagmires.

Long hot interminable stretches.

My coming down to earth, literally, was caused by a wayward root that snagged my right foot and saw me falling to the ground, like a felled tree, my hands saving my face from hitting the dirt by centimetres. My next two incidents were all because of the mud… We would be happily walking along, enjoying the scenery, the birdsong, chatting away and then we would hit an impasse… nothing to do except go through as best we could… except it’s slippery and even with poles I slid and fell… not in the mud, but thorny bushes! Bill’s incident was similar, walking down a slippery path, and slide, then thwack.

The salutary lesson … bruised in both body and ego we needed to re-group. Cut the day’s walk to about 20 kilometres, start early, have plenty of breaks and make sure we get to Saint Jean Pied-de-Port in one piece as planned. It is, after all about the journey!

Distances coming down as we will ourselves forward to the next town.

Public holiday…again

Yesterday was Pentecost Sunday, and being a Sunday everything was shut, especially in the afternoon when pilgrims start to dribble into town, one tired step after another, often preceded by the tip tapping of their hiking poles. They come in, often one at a time, or twos, or threes, or even sixes like our pink ladies (we saw them again this morning). They survey the street, or the square, searching longingly for their lodgings, or a cool spot for a drink… yesterday, all we could find was a fountain, a park bench and a cool church… after seven and a half hours of walking under a burning hot sun, we had to wait another half an hour till 3pm before our accommodation welcomed guests, and a bit later for a beer.

Our room was literally regal, the size of two Australian bedrooms and the bathroom… two basins, a clawfoot bath, a shower and a separate toilet…. tough life of a pilgrim… and Bill enjoyed a swim in their pool! It really does make the aches and pains and the rough day disappear …. What we didn’t know then, was that Monday, today was also a public holiday… everything was shut!

Yes, even the Cathedral was closed.

For a pilgrim such a revelation is daunting. Usually, after breakfast, about 8am, we stop at a boulangerie and buy something for lunch. Today, however, proved to be quite a challenge! Our host confidently told us that there would be plenty to choose from in the next town, just 2 kilometres away. So, of course, we weren’t worried! Except that this was a re-run of previous public holidays and especially those that form a long weekend… but we had faith…

As soon as we were in the next town, we started asking a few of the locals and other pilgrims about a boulangerie that was open. A few directed us down one street… then this one, and the next one, something must be open! A few shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads … try such and such… but it’s a public holiday… welcome to France the land of the public holiday…! After a few more tries with the locals, we were ready to give up… no food for 20 kilometres 😢. I decided to try one of the two open cafès: “Do you have anything to eat?” “No, we have nothing!” This was the same response as the other café. But when they saw the desperate look on my face and that I wasn’t going anywhere, they said, “All we have is some salami”. “Yes please”, I replied. “Cut up on a plate?” “No, no, to take away”. I thought I would hazard another request, “Any bread?” “No, but the tabac usually has some”. We had finally struck gold.. a small baguette, a saussison, and some chocolate ! Finally we could head out of town, and once again try to beat both the heat and any lingering rain or future storms.

Easier said than done. The route out of town seemed interminable, though with lots of interesting houses, and, of course, at the top of the ascent out of town, there was a church. We had already missed out on the Cathedral in the town below, so, of course, we had to go in! Once again it seemed that this town did not want to let us go… Once in the church and after a few prayers of special intentions, we take a few photos and then leave. This time I was invited by an attendant to visit the church below, a crypt of some sort. It was like a cave of wonders and held me spellbound for so long that Bill started to worry.

All that happens or fails to happen though takes us to a special point, a special place… as I exit the church I hear someone calling… Pina, Bill… It was our two companions from two days earlier… suitcases rattling and excitement in their voices. They had come to the end of their Camino for this year, they needed to return to work and to their families. So we bade them a fond farewell feeling rather emotional at another goodbye. Strangers had become firm friends, a friendship that can be reignited at any time, any place.

This was not the only reunion. As we were talking and taking photos, the pink ladies were coming up the hill, waving, also as glad to see us as we were to see them. And as luck would have it, just at the edge of town another boulangerie! We made sure that we had a coffee and cake as there would be absolutely nothing for at least 17 kilometres!

The day progressed much like the others. Hot, dry roads between enormous furrowed or newly planted fields (big companies have bought out the smaller holdings to the detriment of diversification and to the natural order of the environment). There were no places for us to stop for a proper rest and picnic, but we did the best we could and arrived at our lodgings around 3pm. We struck gold here too… swimming pool, our own outdoor table and chairs, washing and hanging clothes out to dry… it’s a little out of town, an old farmhouse I would guess. It has a garden with lots of corners in which to relax and an extensive vegetable garden with lots of fruit trees. The meal and company also did not disappoint, we made new friends and reunited with a German couple we met last week.The Camino continues to give.

companionship

Another hot day and 25 kilometres of walking. Luckily, at the behest of a new found friend, Ricard, we set off early by French standards, 7.30am, and by 12. 30 we had already covered 18 kilometres!

All this came about after we invited Ricard to eat with us. We had met him at Chez Nadine the previous night, where we shared the amazing meal which our host, Nadine, prepared with lots of wine and Armagnac leading to a flow of conversation.  Next night, at hotel accommodation, as is their custom, they seated guests at separate tables, so Ricard welcomed our invitation and shared his wine. As many conversations go on the Camino, there was much talk about the day just passed and the day ahead!

It had been hot of course, easier walking than previous stages, but hot. The next day promised to be even hotter with the added threat of a thunderstorm around 3pm!  How were we going to beat both? … Short cuts, less distance, less elevation and probably less mud. Bill had already seen one, but Ricard had found another, earlier one! So we agreed to be ready to leave about 7.30. This morning after my now obligatory stop at the boulangerie… morning meeting place of most pilgrims, we set off with a spring in our step!

The number of pilgrims had swelled to 10+ by the time we made it out of town … Silvi and her companion, a man with the custom of reciting the Our Father in Aramaic at each cross he encountered, taking a stone from that cross and bringing it to the next one, three ladies that we’d seen at the bar, and some couples we had encountered the day before. The majority had the same idea: make the distance as short as possible and try to beat the hot weather and the storm. The walking was pleasant, time and distance seemed to fly by and in no time at all we were at our first stop… a donativo where a few pilgrims had camped overnight. Coffeed up and a quick bite to eat and we were off again, another stop before lunch and we were set for the afternoon push.

After lunch we said “au revoir” to Ricard as he was heading to another town and we made it to our day’s destination by 2.30pm. Walking was easy, talking was easy, we even forgot about our sore feet and laughed when I lost my balance and nearly finished up in the mud. We shared whatever we had for lunch and set off on separate routes having formed a strong Camino bond.

Light and shade

It’s always hard to say goodbye especially after being warmly welcomed and taken care of by strangers with whom you bond quickly. Such is the tale of being on Camino, you may never see the person with the red t-shirt and heavy backpack who just passed you, or you might see them over the next four days and they could become friends for life. The Gite owner, hotel manager or bar person who greet you as you register at your accommodation could be your best friend! Certainly special bonds are created on the path, at picnic spots, at chapels, cemeteries, cafe bars… anywhere pilgrims stop to rest, eat or drink. Their shared experiences unites them… the dusty boots, the sore feet, the smelly socks, the tired bodies…

Today I think walking through the heat took a lot out of everyone. The promise of a clear warm day had us all ready to go by 7.30. The grass was wet from the overnight dew, the sun warming up slowly. Light filtered through the trees and we hoped for shade the whole 21 kilometres! For the first hour we almost skipped down our path… Noone in front of us and noone overtaking us… soon the other pilgrims started passing us, not many, but a trickle turned into a stream… ones we had met before and others who were brand new! All greeting us with a “Bonjour madame et monsieur. Ça va? Bon Chemin!” We met up with them all at our first major stop… table and chairs, food and drink… everyone of us taking our time enjoying the shade and the rest.

Our next reunion occurred at a chapel surrounded by a cemetery, and in no time at all surrounded by 20 pilgrims, all seeking respite from the heat in a cool spot. Some of us found a bench, others a cool piece of grass under a shady tree. There was little chat as everyone was tired except for the obvious “c’est chaud”, it’s hot, or “c’est tres dur”, it’s hard.

At this point, despite it not being the hottest part of the afternoon, our shadows had all but disappeared ! The sun, directly overhead was making it more difficult for us to take advantage of the shade. Our pace quickening a little as we see some shade ahead, then slowing down as we savour the coolness of the shade, made even sweeter by a fresh breeze.

At our last stop, 20 minutes from the town, we shared a bench with “une madame” and “un monsieur”, both hot and bothered like us, both wanting relief from the sun. We shared our mandarin, but the chocolate had melted… then we trudged into town for a cool drink. It had been a beer kind of day! Made all the more special when we hailed our friends from the previous evening. Another day on the Camino…

Villages and Towns

If someone had told me that towns and villages had personality a few years ago, I would have said that it was just a projection of how I felt on a particular day. However, more and more, I am finding that each town has its unique identity. Some are welcoming with a “bonjour” and a smile from almost everyone you meet. You are made to feel welcome, and the people are genuinely interested in your well-being and welfare. The post office people bend over backwards to help you. Advice is given in a spirit of working together to help. This has been our general feeling in the majority of towns.

The shopkeepers and bar tenders are clearly happy to speak with their customers. The line may grow longer, but everyone seems to agree that this is the price of good relationships and common courtesies in a bar, boulangerie, or gite.

One of the most surprising things about French culture (especially in the dealings between people) is the many hidden expectations that are taken for granted. From how to slice bread to how to cut cheese to the importance of greeting everyone in a shop, bar, or any public place. Because the social norms are not written, it is surprising how aware of others’ manners so as to avoid a social clanger.

Being in a largish city after many villages is an eye opener. While the locals may not always greet everyone, nevertheless, the same codes surface in the smaller encounters in a shop or even walking down a rather quiet street. Forgetting these manners is not really an option if you wish to be served or recognised as a fellow human in need of help.

So, a communal dinner is always both a joy and a challenge. Yesterday, there were twelve at the table with a rich array of backgrounds from all over France and some from French Switzerland. It was a joy to be with such interesting people who, before this meal, were generally complete strangers and likely would not meet again.

The conversation is lively and fast-moving. It covers all manner of topics from (the inevitable) Australia, to the road past, the road tomorrow, the weather and other pleasantries which seal a bond, a meal… it gets to the heart of what companionship means … those who share bread together. It has been a powerful time for us and others who have shared bread with us and some delicious meals. The experience is both unique and common to us all, but there is something very powerful bonding us together. The key person in all these encounters in France has been the host who acts as the agent, bringing all these pilgrims together around a common table to share the best of the local district. 

the perfect Camino day

The day starts as usual… rise, shower, dress, pack, check feet, breakfast, drop by the boulangerie and off we go. Find the path with the horizontal red and white stripes and follow it. A little descent and then a quick rise just to help us stretch those tight muscles. Soon all the little, lingering niggles were forgotten, the clear, fresh morning air and light were working their magic… stopping us in our tracks… we take it in for a moment, then take a photo and then another.

Once out of town the road was smooth and flat with trees on either side. It was sunny but we had plenty of shade. This road led to a newly built bicycle path, this too had trees either side which met overhead to form an arch for its entire length.

Once off these paths we were taken in and around wheatfields and never ending vineyards with the inevitable muddy tracks, which, by this time, had dried out… so much easier to negotiate than the previous day. The walking was easier than other days, made easier by seeing familiar faces and chatting as they passed and once again at the coffee stop.

Vineyards as far as the eye could see!

The day took a magical turn when we chanced upon a magnificent rose garden and lily pond, between vineyards and wheatfields.

Happy frogs!

Despite the day becoming warmer, hot in walking standards, and nearing 20 kilometres in length, we felt better than most other days. We had managed to arrive in Eauze before everything shut. We reunited with some of our Camino friends, wished them all a good stay and went to visit the Cathedral… another impressive building.

We decided to rest up with a drink at a cafe as our accommodation was a little way out of town and we were beat! An hour or so later we headed off to find our bed… maybe a little too far out of town! We started to doubt our choice for a while. All doubts were dispelled as we were made welcome, shown our room and given the run down of how everything worked. I sank onto the bed and Bill went for a swim. We had another drink and made ourselves known to the other guests… a group of six which we had dubbed the pink ladies from earlier in the week. A rest and then dinner… and what a dinner… soup, mussels, steak, potatoes and eggplant fritters, then a cream caramel. Aperitif was an Armagnac liquor with champagne, red wine and rose for the meal and Armagnac to round off the meal. Conversation, mostly in French flowed easily and after two and a half hours we made our exit. Bon nuit a tout.

After the rain…dopo la tempesta

After having walked for a month and reaching the 500 kilometre mark, Bill and I treated ourselves to some pampering… a whole hour long massage! Thanks to an angel sent from heaven, Jean-Pierre, we came away like new people, rejuvenated and relaxed. We also decided on a lovely dinner, soup, steak and veggies plus a chocolate dessert. Snug in our luxurious room we were treated to a lightning show and a tremendously loud downpour. My fear was that we would be walking in the rain the following day…

Morning came and not a trace of bad weather. Everything looked clean, fresh, washed by the overnight rain. We were feeling especially relaxed from our massage and it was easy to amble along. Step followed step. There were a few pilgrims on the road, but many have left to rejoin their life off the Camino. The pilgrims that are still with us, will be going to Saint Jean Pied-de-Port. We have chatted with two Dutch ladies that we’ve seen over the last week, and we keep bumping into Maurice, a Frenchman, we first met in Livinhac… we say hello and wish each other well for the Camino. We have met a number of Americans, all with a connection to Washington state, “the ever-grey state”, I was told… because it’s always overcast, trying to rain! There are also a few more French finishing off their Camino. Most European pilgrims walk 2 weeks every year, returning and picking up where they left off. It’s not so easy for Australians to do the same.

Like yesterday, we made a good start… picking up our lunch from the boulangerie and headed out of town. As is our habit, we saw a church, crossed the road to visit it… no luck, it was shut… we still sent a plea skyward hoping that the heavens wouldn’t open up and drench us before we got to our destination. Onward, Ultreia we thought, putting on a decent pace, till we hit the dreaded aftermath of any downpour on dirt tracks! Yes, mud, glorious mud for some! For us it became a quagmire, slowed our progress and drained us of all our energy. We needed to choose a path through the mud; left, right or middle, and be willing to change sides if it got too boggy. Luckily our poles gave us both balance and purchase in the stickier and more slippery areas but our boots collected mud with each step, thus making it even tougher to keep going.

After one such section, a local offered us an alternative route through another picturesque town, giving us respite from the mud, but alas no coffee. Ultreia again! And again, after some road walking, the dirt tracks reappeared, just as muddy as the previous ones, some much worse for wear after tractors had passed through! And yes, there we were, slogging it out, carefully picking our way through, trying desperately not to fall in the mud and trying not to collect it all on our boots!

The finish line couldn’t come quick enough, but it did and we are warmly greeted by the pilgrims who had passed us during the day. We find a café, order drinks, and swap stories … about the mud. All we want now is a hot shower and a bed to lie on. Later we will think about dinner!

One of the few creatures enjoying today’s conditions.

beginnings…where do they start

The longest, or for that matter, the shortest journey starts with the first step. But when does it actually begin? When you put your foot out the door or when you wake up in the morning and place your foot on the ground? The question perplexed me this morning as our setting forth was momentarily halted by rain… we thought, wisely, that rain protection before we got wet was a much better idea rather than chance getting drenched. Usually the rigmarole of donning rain-pants and jacket annoys me greatly (quite restrictive and hot)! However, this morning it was just another thing to do before we got going, just before our usual stop at the boulangerie for our picnic lunch. The weather too was not uplifting, wet, grey, humid and tending to warm/hot! Most other such starts would have put me in a foul mood… not today!

The question lingered… when do we actually start a particular journey? The actual moment of departure or does it involve many moments before, all of which have brought us to that moment? My steps seemed lighter this morning, almost purposefully propelling me forward towards our next stop. There was bitumen, there was mud. There were narrow, grassy paths and wide stony paths. Some went gently up hill, others skirted fields both up and down. Occasionally I would trip over a stone or a tree root or slip on muddied grass. I watched my feet meet the ground step after step, stopping regularly to catch my breath and to look around. The misty morning gave way to hot humid noon-time and the positively energy sapping heat of early afternoon. The scenery kept surprising me… ghost like trees through the mist, rolling hills, cave-like forest tunnels at regular intervals. Small, historic chapels in tiny villages or on top of hills and the surprise of a leisurely walk into a bustling town where friends had decided to wait for us.

Why had I started the day in such a good way? Why had it not happened in the same way each and every other day? A good night’s sleep perhaps? All’s right with the world type of mood? No real answer comes to mind… though I am reminded of my late father-in-law’s words of advice “Never go to bed angry or upset with each other!” In other words sort out what’s bothering you, talk about it, make peace with it… and move on. Regardless of whether it is an internal dialogue with yourself or one you have with another person. Whatever it is, today was another great day. We are truly blessed and grateful.