A rebel without a clue.

Only one day! That was a terrifically long day. The distance, along the tow path, is nothing. However after the airport hell came the late arrival, the waiting for the host and too many beers. It's insignificant because I believe I'll sleep forever tonight. The food I've eaten today is definitely a contribution to France's nation debt, yet this is necessary. France has my heart, but I don't know where my head lies! Nowhere is my "main complaint". No sense of belonging. The body succeeds yet my mind is short of aspiration. I'm a dull boy. You know? *** If you show your teeth this means a "concord" - bullshit, as the locals sit opposite the Krauts, it is distinctly non-cordial. When will they learn to be honest. Sebastien is not Sebastian. Simple. I listen and pause before the cheese onslaught. *** And the gulf separating those Southern Europeans from us witty Brits, with our Monty Python! What can I do? Smile and poke my teef in their gen...

The first morning is usually contending with the final other way in my life. Like a sliding door the habitual beer glutton is gone as I really have to focus on the path at my feet! At six my alarm began startling me. Before then a heavy freight train and a battle between alley cats. Just one more beer? Enough I say. Leaving le Trois Six and doggies my feet returned to the gites and I took the left over beans the previous person left in a jar. Gilbert is one stage/étape ahead as he arrived 16th September: people do walk this path. The host told me it's quite straightforward to Carcassonne, along the Canal du Midi, with its locks, bridges, docksides, etc. No climbing as such. A day or two to get into the stride and today I will reach Capestang. Sundried "mûres" are the greatest wayside snack ... Apart from Haw berries ... Wolfed them down. All the figs I've found today were totally dried out. I found an almond tree but these were the bitter variety: Cyanide. Obviously ...