Roncesvalles, Spain, February 28 I’m scrunched in my lower bunk, #13 of a 24-bed dorm (this is one of the tiny ones here, some of the dorms have well over 100). By scrunched, I mean that I can’t sit upright because there’s not enough headspace. Were these not built for adults? I’m beginning to think that lower bunks are highly overrated. They’re always the first taken, though in this case, I had mine assigned by the stern lady at the desk who got me checked into this historic facility. It is an iconic stop. A town with a resident population of about 30 humans, with this enormous, ancient monastery complex (complete with cloisters, chapel, hostel, museum, and more), which has been a place of hospitality for pilgrims of The Way for about 900 years, dating back to 1127. There’s an ancient feeling about the place, for sure, though I’ve been told there were some recent improvements, like the outlets by each bed and a reading light. For these modernizations, I am truly grateful. Only t...
Saint Jean Pied-de-Port, France, February 27 It’s an early, 5 AM wake-up in the dorm. Somehow, this room that looked bright and airy yesterday, with a lovely view of the mountains, feels like a thick-stone-walled dungeon in the darkness. It’s filled with metal bunks, now creaking exceptionally, as pilgrims begin to rouse and start packing out. I’m not entirely certain that I've slept at all, between the sounds of this snoring, coughing, restless band of hikers. (My first surprise when I arrived at the hostel in town yesterday was the sheer number of travelers, as my main intent for choosing a winter Camino was to avoid the crowds.) Sleep is something I was anxious about with this trip. I’m a bad/light sleeper on a good day in my own bed with Benadryl and Ibuprofen for my shoulder issues. At some point during the night, I had a couple of thoughts about sleep related to pilgrim-life: 1) Sleep is a gift, not an expectation. I’ll be grateful for every bit that I get. 2) Eventually, I’...