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Camino Francés: T-1day

 Saint Jean Pied-de-Port, France, February 26



I arrive in town via bus from Bayonne, France after spending a night (already a pivot from my plan, being delayed for hours yesterday due to a tragic incident on the rails, that made me miss my train connection). It was a stunning ride, and surreal in a lot of ways. I'm actually doing this: traveling through Europe like a boss! I continue to shock myself a bit on that account, I’ll admit. I had so much uncertainty about traveling alone internationally, finding my way in strange places, but here I am, doing what I felt incompetent or incapable of, or at least with significant doubt and trepidation of my abilities. Again, I never would’ve done it if I didn’t have this sense that it was the right thing, right time, going solo.


I walk into town from the bus station, my only plan being to secure a bed promptly at the municipal hostel upon my arrival. Here’s what I know in advance about the place: no reservations allowed, dorms accommodate up to 34 people, breakfast included, 15 euros/night. The hostel is at the top of a steep street, the last building before the city wall that wraps around this area of town. No issues securing a bottom bunk, it’s pretty empty when I arrive. Initiation begins, disposable sheets and all. (Oh yes, especially the pillow cases that don’t have an end, it’s just a tube. What? I was definitely one of those people who had the pillow slip through entirely and land on the floor.) And 3 bathrooms and 3 showers for us all to share.



The more challenging aspect, though, seems to be finding food in these parts where nothing is served for dinner before 7:30 PM, and most places are closed altogether until maybe 6:30 or 7 PM. At one point in the afternoon, I asked a kind-looking lady if she knew of even a café that was open (as I just wanted a bit of a break and to eat a bite of something), and she offered to make coffee for me herself. I hadn’t quite realized until then that a café meant, quite simply, a place that serves coffee and not much besides. Oh well, I’ll be hungry for the next few hours. It’s a charming town, anyway, and one that merits wandering.



I’m promptly at the restaurant at 7:30, as early as possible for my long-awaited meal. Already, I’m noticing little bunches of pilgrims making introductions, meeting up, and eating together. I am really not ready for this; I’m here for solitude. Will I be able to open up? Let people in? Let go? I feel so tightly closed. Like a flower bud. Afraid to bloom. Is this part of my journey?


Thinking about tomorrow, I quickly return to the hostel after dinner, around 8:30 PM, and am astonished to find the lights already out in the dorm and many of my comrades sleeping. I’m kicking myself for not setting up my bed before heading out to town. It's just not within my power to arrange a sleeping bag quietly and to silently retrieve other necessities from my pack. I had no idea people would get to sleep this early! Did they just skip dinner or buy groceries? I feel so clueless as to how to do this life. I guess this is how it’s learned.
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