Pilgrimage Pt.30.

Tried to pay my Orange account, but I am unable. Usual paper self rearing it's head mid to late in the month. One bit of administration for June/July. Hope my family can help me in the UK?

I know I must overcome this feeling of being alone amongst a legion of Pelegrinos. What kind of goal is being lost like a silent voice in the choir of disorganized cacophony.

I am not alone thinking the young 'pelegrino' are crazy. I collected my micro towel. I will breakfast and away. I dreamt a few days ago about JFK coming to visit me and a friend. I tried to warn him of his fate, but he wouldn't listen. This was in Pamplona. It is possible this was a warning to me that my way would become my mental assassination. I should have listened to Serge in Cahors. I understood so little around that table, but word of the road Primativo cropped up every night of the four I camped out. I am not on the Way because of a Movie!

I am laid out on my floor for the night; which is fine, but the music reminds me of Hari Grishnas in the Movie Airplane: clap happy. This is the stuff of insane dreams.

So from crazy Canadian to even crazier Israelies. This is my test. I'm failing too. I had to ask the man to stop playing the discordant piano. It's another day of inescapable noises. I must come across as a bore or a kill joy. I explained I had come on the way to escape noise. He apologized and now they sit around the table rattling off vino tinto. This will be a repeat of last night, but with a piano, a Californian playing a pipe with no tune and dancing without timing. One of the Israelites draws. Better. Contrast inner space with outer. I will do likewise.

It changed. My challenge of the circumstance made this a more fruitful occasion. From a moment of calm drawing reflection to preparation of food for a simple potage and songs from all nations. I sung on Ilkley Moor Bar'tat but could only remember one verse! How disappointing! They said my food was the best on the Camino, but I thought it was too like soup and not enough textures. But then I didn't start it! I just made sure that the chorizo was done properly. Enough wine to sleep for a while.

Eventually I calmed out to the ends of my toes. The Israelis guys were fine once we got into a conversation. People should always be given a second chance. Jesus picked them up in seconds. A taxi delivered them to John the Baptist Auberge. A miracle! We discussed my feeling that I need a quiet peace in my mind and I explained why I felt panicky when arrived and all they did for an hour was play an out of tune honkie tonk Les Dawson esk.

The unorthodox knitting and unity of individuals is what I think the orthodox 0.99% needs. I wish them well. The stamp I have been getting to show my credentials is pride or vanity? This is something I am unsure of. A badge like membership of a supreme society? A get out of jail free card? What is this ritual I see all around me?

It is getting closer to owl stretching time; night John-Boy.

Poorly German girl coughing her lungs up most of the night. I slept fitfully after 4am anyway.