SAINT JEAN PIED DE PORT, A GLOBAL CROSSROAD
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| a vintage pilgrim goes shopping |
The buzzing street, where many languages can be heard spoken, is the meeting point of many of the freshly arrived pilgrims going to Compostela over the Camino Frances (the French Path which starts in Saint Jean Pied de Port before crossing over to Spain for a first stop at the Monastery of Roncevaux (Roncesvalles in Spanish)). They join the cohort of those who have started their journey much ahead ( le Puy en Velay, Vezelay, Tours, Arles, Geneva etc...): there are many routes to go to Compostela. A good place to start could simply be one's very home - lock the door and walk!
In Saint Jean Pied de Port it is tough, but not impossible, to find a room to spend the night if you haven't booked in advance, unless you are content, like many individual pilgrims, to sleep in a dormitory. It is part of the initiation ritual of the Camino. This brings back memories of school years, for those who have been to a boarding school.
In any case, Saint Jean Pied de Port is a place of convergence from all over the world. Asians are fairly well represented with Koreans and a few Japanese. North America too with US Americans and Canadians. There are very few Africans though and of course a large number of Europeans because they don't need to fly in or get a visa. For the freshly arrived pilgrims, it felt like orientation day at school or university while for the other pilgrims it was a mere continuation of their travel routine.
We slept at a nice half-board pension on the heights of the Southern part of the town, called Zazpiat Bat, with a beautiful view on the surrounding hills. The dinner was fun because it gathered a number of people from different nationalities South African, French, German, American, etc...). It started, as usual for pilgrim menus with some soup. Everyone at the table was new to the Camino and the adrenaline was palpable. All backpacks were immaculate, walking shoes were also looking perfectly clean and bright. The excitement about the start the next day was fed by the ideal representation gathered from testimonials of relatives or friends. The backpacks contained everything necessary to cater for the expected and hopefully the unexpected. People were sharing advice and tips with each other on how best to cope with the hazards of the Camino, ranging from how to deal with your feet to where to sleep and not to sleep along the way. Most of them went to bed early because they wanted to leave as early as possible the next morning. There was a lot of anxiety about the walk up to Roncevaux, particularly about the steep ascend to Orisson and then a more gradual one all the way up to the pass of Lepoeder at an altitude of 1429m. The weather was obviously a serious question mark. Would it rain? Would it be cold? Would there be snow at the highest pass?
All those questions could, obviously, only be answered the next day.
In Saint Jean Pied de Port it is tough, but not impossible, to find a room to spend the night if you haven't booked in advance, unless you are content, like many individual pilgrims, to sleep in a dormitory. It is part of the initiation ritual of the Camino. This brings back memories of school years, for those who have been to a boarding school.
In any case, Saint Jean Pied de Port is a place of convergence from all over the world. Asians are fairly well represented with Koreans and a few Japanese. North America too with US Americans and Canadians. There are very few Africans though and of course a large number of Europeans because they don't need to fly in or get a visa. For the freshly arrived pilgrims, it felt like orientation day at school or university while for the other pilgrims it was a mere continuation of their travel routine.
We slept at a nice half-board pension on the heights of the Southern part of the town, called Zazpiat Bat, with a beautiful view on the surrounding hills. The dinner was fun because it gathered a number of people from different nationalities South African, French, German, American, etc...). It started, as usual for pilgrim menus with some soup. Everyone at the table was new to the Camino and the adrenaline was palpable. All backpacks were immaculate, walking shoes were also looking perfectly clean and bright. The excitement about the start the next day was fed by the ideal representation gathered from testimonials of relatives or friends. The backpacks contained everything necessary to cater for the expected and hopefully the unexpected. People were sharing advice and tips with each other on how best to cope with the hazards of the Camino, ranging from how to deal with your feet to where to sleep and not to sleep along the way. Most of them went to bed early because they wanted to leave as early as possible the next morning. There was a lot of anxiety about the walk up to Roncevaux, particularly about the steep ascend to Orisson and then a more gradual one all the way up to the pass of Lepoeder at an altitude of 1429m. The weather was obviously a serious question mark. Would it rain? Would it be cold? Would there be snow at the highest pass?
All those questions could, obviously, only be answered the next day.
The Next Day, we took our breakfast at 7.30 AM. The sun was rising spectacularly amidst a partially tormented sky. It turned out that the direction of Roncevaux was promising. We were pretty much the last ones, some had already packed and started their walk. They did not want to reach the Monastery of Roncesvalles too late to make sure they had a bed in the giant dormitory of more than a hundred beds.
The walk was a bit like a race. However I do believe that Aesop's fable of the turtle and the hare still applies. Start steadily and go on accordingly. It was a race, but a well-mannered one. There are implicit rules on the Camino. Pilgrims will greet each other along the way. They will help each other as well because everyone is going through the same process even though everyone goes the Camino at one's own speed. There is no particular dress code but some objects can signal the status of pilgrim, such as a scallop shell strapped to the backpack (which is the symbol of Saint Jacques) or a wooden walking stick or for vintage travellers a safran-colored cape. There are no obligation to stop at any particular place along the way. Most important though is to gather stamps, from all the places you stop at, in your credential, a booklet that records your Camino and that gets you a certificate of peregrination, called La Compostella, which proves that you have made it all the way to Compostela.
We left our accommodation after 8 AM, joining to the late-goers bandwagon. As we branched into the road used by the Camino we could see a column of pilgrims walking at irregular intervals, everyone at his own pace. The morning light was great, colorful under the sun. The meadows' green was vibrant, sparkling occasionally from yellow and white flowers. Against the sunlight the seeds of dandelions looked like soap bubbles above the grass. It was, after all, a glorious morning!
Groups of friends, individuals on their own, individuals travelling together by affinity for some time, all were going in the same direction, forming a long and happy human ribbon. We met a man whose goal was beyond Compostella. He planned to go on to Lisbon and Alicante, carrying along his guitar (just like men do with their better halves, suggested a British man walking nearby). There was a kind of euphoria walking together towards a common goal. There was a particular energy passing from the group to each individual to find the strength to carry on walking at one's own pace, bearing with the weight of one's own backpack, bearing with painful feet and legs that had not necessarily been trained for the exertion of a twenty eight kilometre walk with 1300 meters positive altitude difference. The first eight kilometres to Orisson were easy at in the beginning but the slope became progressively steeper, so much so that Orisson had turned into a nearly mandatory stop for a drink and/or some food. We sat over an apple juice mixed with Perrier inside the chalet looking through the window at the pilgrim marching past. There was a sense of migration like birds trying to cross the sea.
The walk was not overly difficult for trained people but yet it was long. It required stops to rest. People would then meet and catch up later as per their rhythm.
Between noon and 1 PM, one could see pilgrims looking for the perfect spot to enjoy the sun during a short lunch break, looking at the beautiful landscape, very propitious to appreciate the taste of even simple food. Bread, cheese, ham, fruits... There was something divine about that moment. Nature, a sense of freedom, a sense of purpose from belonging to a group of people with the same destination as a goal. It was exhilarating.
Early afternoon, as we reached the passes, the sky filled up with clouds, giving the surrounding nature a bleaker aspect. The air was colder, a bit of snow had not yet melt in two curves of the road. Trees were yet to blossom. Most legs were now tired and feet aching as we reached the pass of Lepoeder where we suddenly got a liberating view over Spain and the plain of Roncesvalles.
There were just a few hundred meters of difference in elevation to descend traversing a beautiful forest, a few kilometres to reach Roncesvalles and line-up at the Monastery to register for an accommodation for the night in the prospect of a well-deserved rest. Now the Camino had been started, it was time to think through what had happened over this exhilarating day one, take care of worldly contingencies before going to bed and start walking the next day.
The walk was a bit like a race. However I do believe that Aesop's fable of the turtle and the hare still applies. Start steadily and go on accordingly. It was a race, but a well-mannered one. There are implicit rules on the Camino. Pilgrims will greet each other along the way. They will help each other as well because everyone is going through the same process even though everyone goes the Camino at one's own speed. There is no particular dress code but some objects can signal the status of pilgrim, such as a scallop shell strapped to the backpack (which is the symbol of Saint Jacques) or a wooden walking stick or for vintage travellers a safran-colored cape. There are no obligation to stop at any particular place along the way. Most important though is to gather stamps, from all the places you stop at, in your credential, a booklet that records your Camino and that gets you a certificate of peregrination, called La Compostella, which proves that you have made it all the way to Compostela.
We left our accommodation after 8 AM, joining to the late-goers bandwagon. As we branched into the road used by the Camino we could see a column of pilgrims walking at irregular intervals, everyone at his own pace. The morning light was great, colorful under the sun. The meadows' green was vibrant, sparkling occasionally from yellow and white flowers. Against the sunlight the seeds of dandelions looked like soap bubbles above the grass. It was, after all, a glorious morning!
Groups of friends, individuals on their own, individuals travelling together by affinity for some time, all were going in the same direction, forming a long and happy human ribbon. We met a man whose goal was beyond Compostella. He planned to go on to Lisbon and Alicante, carrying along his guitar (just like men do with their better halves, suggested a British man walking nearby). There was a kind of euphoria walking together towards a common goal. There was a particular energy passing from the group to each individual to find the strength to carry on walking at one's own pace, bearing with the weight of one's own backpack, bearing with painful feet and legs that had not necessarily been trained for the exertion of a twenty eight kilometre walk with 1300 meters positive altitude difference. The first eight kilometres to Orisson were easy at in the beginning but the slope became progressively steeper, so much so that Orisson had turned into a nearly mandatory stop for a drink and/or some food. We sat over an apple juice mixed with Perrier inside the chalet looking through the window at the pilgrim marching past. There was a sense of migration like birds trying to cross the sea.
The walk was not overly difficult for trained people but yet it was long. It required stops to rest. People would then meet and catch up later as per their rhythm.
Between noon and 1 PM, one could see pilgrims looking for the perfect spot to enjoy the sun during a short lunch break, looking at the beautiful landscape, very propitious to appreciate the taste of even simple food. Bread, cheese, ham, fruits... There was something divine about that moment. Nature, a sense of freedom, a sense of purpose from belonging to a group of people with the same destination as a goal. It was exhilarating.
Early afternoon, as we reached the passes, the sky filled up with clouds, giving the surrounding nature a bleaker aspect. The air was colder, a bit of snow had not yet melt in two curves of the road. Trees were yet to blossom. Most legs were now tired and feet aching as we reached the pass of Lepoeder where we suddenly got a liberating view over Spain and the plain of Roncesvalles.
There were just a few hundred meters of difference in elevation to descend traversing a beautiful forest, a few kilometres to reach Roncesvalles and line-up at the Monastery to register for an accommodation for the night in the prospect of a well-deserved rest. Now the Camino had been started, it was time to think through what had happened over this exhilarating day one, take care of worldly contingencies before going to bed and start walking the next day.
images:
1/ a vintage pilgrim going shopping
2/ Saint Jean Pied de Port and the surrounding hills
3/ a glorious morning
4/ The Monastery of Roncesvalles appears out of the woods
1/ a vintage pilgrim going shopping
2/ Saint Jean Pied de Port and the surrounding hills
3/ a glorious morning
4/ The Monastery of Roncesvalles appears out of the woods
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| Saint Jean Pied de Port and the surrounding hills |
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| a glorious morning |
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| the Monastery of Roncesvalles appears out of the woods |
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