Fifty-three.

Auxerre. I'm a little exhausted. Ran around trying to find accommodation this morning. After visiting the Mairie and Diocese Office I lastly headed to the Office de tourisme where I was told I could stay with a gentleman from 4:30pm. My body was switching off and my mind was distracted. The combination of wine and lack of sleep is making me feel old today. I've no interest in being here today, but I know this malaise will lift with a few days off the pop and a good night's sleep in my own bed. It's a beautiful town. Coming in was lovely this morning, but I lacked any energy to take it beyond surface detail. Now I wait outside 36 Rue Michelet and I hope my host understands how tired walking a Camino is and how demanding backpacking is as well. Even as a kid I didn't relish long days traipsing about look for a source of complete relaxation. The obvious place to stay - Maison de Randonnér - was full, but the lady of the house allowed me to rest upstairs where I almost feel into a sleep. However I am too anxious to hit England's shores now to feel anything pleasant.