A rebel without a clue.

Outside Le Gare De Bayonne a crowd gathers for the bus to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. To be surrounded by so many people and voices is so unusual. An experience I haven't had since 2013. Does it fill me with fear or with love. *** Depends on the conversations. I was wedged between two American grad students and one, almost American, Canadian grad student at the back of the bus. Some kind of rock and a hard place. After the initial helloes, which brought our Canadian cousin to my left front into the midst, I wanted off the bus to mind my own thoughts: nowt like a physics student reducing me to a Turing Machine to make me wonder. I kept quiet quite long enough until he used the term computer to define me! But then he wasn't having a real experience at all? As he conjured up his sex life with these two sisters from DC as a programmed happening ... It's just not me! But I am in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. That was insane. I've not stopped, but now I relax by the stream climbing d...

Well I am straight into the cluster of folks around the breakfast table, but I am absolutely shattered from yesterday. It's wonderful to hear them all speak their French tones, four are from Quebec, and to be glowered at as I arrived after 1 am, because they weren't operating  the Tramline after 21:30 due to scheduled works - and I was on the slow bus stopping at each and every blasted stop along the same route - but the challenge of the endurance and not falling into drunken slumber (because that was impossible). The sounds of the Camino... now I know I physically cannot begin on 6 broken hours sleep, on the back of yesterday's mammoth day back from Wetherby, mum and Lola. Where to this morning? Dax or Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port... the train departs at 10:19 so I will stop enroute at Marche des Capuchin where memories flood back. Flipping a coin I decided to head to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, €42 - which was most of yesterday's allowance - so I will start from Saint-Jean-Pi...