Camino de Santiago Day 1: France!
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St. Jean-Pied-de-Port, France, start of the Camino Frances through Spain
Today, I left Stuttgart in a mild snowstorm (after visiting my brother, who's studying abroad in Germany.) I landed in Bilbao, Spain, to sunlight glinting off the ocean and palm trees. It's my first time traveling alone.
I was terrified.
First, public transportation: I love to walk, so the Camino will likely be a good fit, but public transportation terrifies me (it's out of my control! What if I get on the wrong bus! What if I misread the schedule! Ah!) and to reach the classic starting point of the Camino Frances all the way up at the French border, in St. Jean, France, there is... really no easy way. I found other blog posts. I fretted. I suspected I'd need to find three separate buses, none of which could be pre-ordered online, and did not see how this wouldn't end in disaster. And then - as is usually the case - everything worked out... fine. The Bilbao airport has buses straight to San Sebastian, and from there another bus to Pamplona (or, alternately, to Bayonne, France, but I didn't realize this in time) and from there, a hellish, winding, nearly vomit-ridden ride across the Pyrenees to St. Jean, France.
I had a two-hour layover waiting for that last bus through the Pyrenees. And, as if to teach me to relax and that all my worrying had been for naught, the Pamplona station was the prettiest bus station I'd ever seen: all underground, with escalators rising up to emerge from this glassy cube beside the most amazing public park:
Old fortified ruins, in the middle of Pamplona. There were teenagers climbing the walls. Mothers pushing strollers. Numerous dogs, and strolling couples, and a general Spanish enjoyment which shattered my German punctuality. After the plane flight, I was actually quite tired. I mixed instant coffee under a cold bathroom sink (the bathrooms in a tunnel of this old fortress were also beautiful) and learned that yes, in dire situations and with enough shaking-up, instant coffee can indeed be dissolved in cold water.
The drive through the Pyrenees was one of the worst 1 1/2 hours of my life. I came within inches of vomiting, but managed to hold it in by both plugging my nose and deep breathing. So many switchbacks! Up one mountain vale and down another, and now starting tomorrow we get to walk it and climb all those switchbacks on foot, but thank goodness because at least it won't be in a bus! I'm getting carsick again just thinking about it, so on to:
The town of St Jean! Really, really beautiful. I'd heard the south of France was beautiful, but man, if it all looks like this! Full of rolling hills and terraces and switchbacking roads. For some reason I'd imagined myself arriving alone, this early in April, but our bus unloaded after other buses, and I joined a long line of pilgrims with backpacks:
That's a trail of fellow backpackers, as we all wandered in bewildered circles trying to find where we registered and got our seashells. When one hostel filled, they ushered me up the road to the next hostel, run by an extremely assertive frenchwoman who has ten adopted cats, two dogs, and does not allow shoes inside, declaring that anyone who wears shoes inside will be thrown out back with the chickens (she can say this in at least four languages). (I later learned this was a rule in every hostel, to reduce the stench of hundreds of hiking boots: she got us well trained.) On this first night I met: 3 friendly Americans, 1 Portuguese, 2 Italians, 3 Spanish men, 1 Spanish girl, 1 Czech woman, 1 German girl, and several Koreans.
Amount spent on buses: 17 euros + 7 + 20 (GROAN! 20 euros for that hellish switchbacking near-puke-fest! These people KNOW there's no other way for us to get to the start and we'll pay anything for the last leg of the journey! Though, maybe it was just more expensive to pay for all the brake pads they run through on that bus line. Our brakes definitely smelled like burning rubber.)
Amount spent on hostel: 10 euros (yes!)
Amount spent on food: 0, thanks to my brother's incredible bag of super-gorp, mixed with peanut butter, raisins, and granola before I left Germany:
The sheep were really wearing bells. Also, that is a gallon size bag filled with high-calorie gorp; we'll see how many kilometers of walking it fuels.
And lastly:
The official camino entry sign through the archway: the seashell we'll be following all across Spain to Santiago de Compostela, 800 km down the trail, and a figure of slightly hunchbacked-looking old pilgrim. (My backpack feels light now. But I have a feeling I'll be wanting to abandon belongings... to type on I bought an older version of this Logitech keyboard, which weighs ounces and connects via bluetooth to my old iPhone 4s phone; no laptop or ipad to carry. Nothing heavy, and nothing valuable to steal. This first trial - typing late at night on my phone - is perfect. An Italian guy is snoring above me, I just heard a cowbell pass in the street outside, and this keyboard is almost silent, typing in the dark with 8 other people sleeping around me.)
Tomorrow: on foot to Roncesvailles!
Buen camino,
-mlj
