Day Four: Lost in Pamplona

The method that seems to work is to publish text then add pictures. So if you read this and there’s no pictures, come back later. There will be.

I met Eddie and the others at the cafe around 7. Had apple tart and cafe con leche. Funny thing is, I’m not a coffee drinker in the states. While Eddy and the others are friendly, they are not my family. I haven’t found my family yet. But it’s early days. I’m still hopeful.

Not far from Zubiri we passed a church being restored. Here I met Neil, who is from South Africa and is spending his life restoring the church. It was damaged when a roadway built in 1958 diverted water into the foundation, causing the walls and ceiling to crack. . It was abandoned by the locals even before that, I think he said.

He said the 16th century altar was looted in 2009, but it absence revealed a painted altar on the wall, with pagan symbols of nautiluses and suns. He also pointed out the outside walls are not stone but painted plaster. That’s because the entrance arch was painted with blue stars and other symbols.

I also met a woman who had cone down with tendinitis, and was volunteering at the church. She told me a professional hiker told her to stop every two hours, take off your shoes, and stretch and air your feet. So I’m doing that when I can.

Neil was not impressed with my little coffee cup stamp from the morning’s cafe. He started to tell me where the good stamps were, but I told him I had to have that one because that was where I had my first ever tequila shot. He said he’d give me that.

Here are some pictures of what I saw on the way. At some point I met Jackie. She might be family. She walks my speed. She’s from Guatemala and is a yoga teacher. She quit her other job and is on Camino deciding what she wants to do next. Mostly, does she want to marry a certain man or not. We told each other our life stories but had to separate once we got to Pamplona. She had a reservation. I did not.

Jackie is a cyclist (see, Fred, told you I’d meet one) and she agreed to ride the meseta with me. The man she may marry is also a cyclist. There have certainly been a lot of Bicigrinos around. I’m not a mountain biker. Wish I was, sometimes.

I checked in to my hostel, which is across from the cathedral, and showered. And I decided I had HAD it with the shampoo bar I brought. It doesn’t rinse out and my hair was getting more straw-like with each use. Plus it keeps breaking when I try to comb it. Enough! Basta! I’d also had enough of the shower shoes I brought. I got mesh that I thought would be light and dry quickly. Wrong on both counts.

So I went in search of flip flops (those who know me just gasped in shock; I hate flip flops) and real shampoo and conditioner. Found both, as well as some non-Camino parts of Pamplona. Saw Flamenco dancers. Had some wonderful local food, then headed back to the hostel. (I took this picture while I was eating. Look carefully. You’ll see why.) (In the window. See it now?)

I got lost and ended up 10 min in the wrong direction. Which I discovered after walking in circles for an hour. I tried my prayer trick, and you know what God said? “I spoke to you then because was there was no one else. Here are my children. Ask one of them.” So I did.

Reshowered when I got back to the albergue, where it is now 29:45 and past my bedtime. Good night.