Camino: Bordeaux to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port

I did not know I was tired until I slept and I did not know I was hungry until I ate. What a good night. I spent the night in the Mercure hotel in Bordeaux. A delightful place. The staff were very kind, even though I don’t speak a lick of French. Maybe they all roll their eyes after I turned away but I didn’t see it. I also did not sense it. Which I think is even more important. Check out is not until noon but I think I’ll pack things up here and head over to the train station. What better place to watch humanity. More later.

11:34 a.m. I am at the train station. I’m looking for pilgrims, but I have not seen one yet. I suppose in one way or another we are all pilgrims, but I’m looking for some very specific ones. I would like to wish someone, Buen Camino.

11:41 a.m. and as I stand here, I just remembered Blaine the Mono. Stephen King fans unite!

12:19 p.m. I have met my first pilgrim, although she walked it two years ago. She saw the Cross of St. James on my pack (thank you, Dana, for sewing them on—I haven’t forgotten our deal!) I am smiling. Becoming more real.

1:10 p.m. I just began The Road to Daybreak by Henri Nouwen. The first two sentences: “This is the first day of my new life! Though it sounds melodramatic, I cannot avoid feeling that something significant is starting today.” Ummm…..

2:23 p.m. on the train to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. Many pilgrims.

3:24.

4:21 p.m. Arrived at my apartment for the next two nights. It is lovely—Gîtes Vue Montagne St-Jean-Pied-de Port. Five stars and I haven’t even checked out the bed.

7:53 p.m. I walked back into town to find a bite to eat and a few groceries for the next couple of days. Not much. Just a few eggs and bread. I’ll go back in tomorrow for a bigger meal.

As I walked, I was thinking about the pilgrims I met… no, “met” is the wrong word… encountered or bumped into along the way today. *WE* were all still caught up in our normal lives. We were rushing and pushing and jostling. We were not good pilgrims (I don’t even know that we are pilgrims yet.) We were our normal selves. Always in a hurry. Always checking the clock. Always believing that our journey is of utmost importance. Not true Young Grasshoppa. This—in my no miles on the Camino, yet, opinion—is not the Way of St. James.

St. James was guided by an angel to his final resting place in Santiago. Perhaps, instead of guiding our own path, we allow God’s holy angels to guide us… is that a statement or a question?

I prayed the Rosary today in a beautiful church. I understood that I was at the foot of the cross with Mary. I had my left hand on Jesus foot and Mary had a hand on mine. Mary had her right hand on Jesus’ other foot and I had my other hand on hers. We stood side by side. At first, I was distracted by the others coming and going, but Mary said for me not to listen to them. She said that I was to listen for His voice—that He would speak to me along the way. I will listen.

I lit a candle and asked her to pray for me along The Way. She will.

This peregrino is tired. Blessings to you all.