A rebel without a clue.

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 ...

How to accommodate the crowds? How to be always the few not the many? 0.01%. Many Italia. Beautiful locale which reminds me of the Tours Anglais in Aubrac. But instead of two Frenchmen and I ... Sixty Italians, one Danish, one South African, eighty Spanish and I hear an Israeli? What! I am reminded of the road to calvary by Bruegal. Yes we are all individuals! A beautiful space but I feel crammed into a low celling and between all the young voices and piano playing adolescents I can't cope. This part of the Camino is too rammed. I must find a way that links me with freedom and existence. I asked if I could sleep in the second overflow and now a way across the road listening: If 6 was 9. Free. I don't care. 0.01%.

The devil is in our midst and he is Canadian. Stoned beyond redemption and suddenly he's the chef de cuisine. I'm hating the way my experience has been altered by one unaware individual. He is meaningless. I must remember that he is meaningless. He has disturbed me twice now. In both large Cities: Pamplona and Logrono. So much I just want to go home. People have played up to his appallingly bad meal. Flavourless and over cooked. Second time I've needed to flee the dinner table at the conclusion of the sweet course. Oh why! Those guys from over the Atlantic must make themselves heard. They're insanely insignificant to Europe. With a better morning and rice pudding for breakfast I run run run to autobus estacion for to out-distance Peter, Amish and two Americans. thanks to Claire from iglesia de santiago el real for helping me. and also Nicole and Antonio at breakfast for bringing the better feeling back. if I see Peter, Hank or Bernadie again in this life! I realise wit...

Bed. Unwind. Spoke briefly to our volunteer host. She asked me if there was anything I needed. After snoozing, with a heavy downpour filling the ancient streets of Logrono and washing away stress. I find napping on a rainy afternoon doubly engaging. Elisa and her father have found the bed next to mine for the night. There are a limited number of beds, but there are also a number of matts on the first floor. The bell of the large church sounds down the quarters and the host comes to beckon me for a hot drink and biscuits. I leave the tranquility of my bed for a table of loud discussions, but I find ease in camomile and 24 tiles depicting the life of Saint Vincent. I know that there is less reason to the Way than I perceive others demanding it be. An American lady wanted to come with me when I went for my sandwich and detour but I wanted to be alone. She seems so intensely loud and wants everyone to hear her stories. Why do I want to end this now. We don't need to fill every silenc...

Weather has changed. Finally! Rain and grey skies, alternating with sunny spells. Nice small village on a hill side to hang in today. Not in the same brutal expectant for the morrow. Stopping at Logrono - famous for La Rioja. First Cahors now I'm in La Rioja: they'll be no complaints about the wine, however the queso campagna is very average. Must go out of my way to find a special cheese to stick with a robust but yielding vino tinto. What more do you need? Brebis? Hung about until seven for our pelegrino supper. Three courses, bread, wine and water for only €10. Pleasures of conversations too. Bo, elisa, guy. A dane and two bretons. My broken French is exactly like 'allo 'allo policeman. Not too impressed with the green label Rioja; the lower levels of that wine are using the DOC moniker, but they're not more than vin du table. Rioja needs to re-assert it's expectations and firmly say no the wine calling itself Rioja! The ball of my left foot feels crushed u...

Awake upon the merry dawn chorus earlier and before you sleep too much. Looking up the stars still shine as I shoulder my pack and begin this 29 kilometres. 5:45. Walk before the dawn arrived in the last stop for nine kilometres. Breakfast stop. Wait for the local bar to open for bocodillo and cafe. I set off with a Spanish lady, French couple and Danish priest. Maybe he's going too fast. I said see you soon. My legs need solace at 700 metres. Between Monjardin and Los Arcos it is an unbroken 9 kilometres. Petit dejourner now until 8:30. I feel insane! Finally reached Los Archos... That road went on forever. Stopped. Thought of stopping for a while, but the sun wasn't out... Don't chance your luck! So I pick up two huge oranges and a Danone yogurt drink. From 5.7kms you can see two villages and I sure hope the closer is our bed for today? As it gets closer I feel that the bastards have led me here just to inform me my stop is another few leagues off. Facking buggered! 14...

Distinct lack of energy: we're all zapped like tortured flies. Everyone is together alone. Some somnobulant readers, sleepers and I drawing freestyle. Now wolfing down pasas sin pepitas and glass duo of garanacha/ grenache noir. Two danes have heads in fiction. Partneren/Khans Skat. We're all in a trance; bewitched by the croaking and chirping. Adios amigos? Frau hacks at bread with a blunt spoon. We are lack want. None move very quickly if at all; it strikes me it is some opium den. Quick tour of the ville but even at 7pm it is shouting it is hot; 30°. Quick hello bueno to two female skinheads from Torino, both femme? One has very bad knees. Everyone has a bad mechanism lazy city walking doesn't require attention to the position of feet, knees and hips. I learnt this in France. All these guys out of Saint Jean Pied Pont are suffering terribly. We walk without marching correctly. Fini. Got some bananas, prunes, figs and a can of Coke Zero to skip along the Camino by 6:30...