Camino Reflections 2

Leaving Centraal Station in Amsterdam, I took the bullet train to Paris. Unlike the Camino, the landscape rushed by. The train for Baritz and then Staint-Jean-Pied-de-Port left from a different station, so rather than rushing, I decided to take the early train the next morning. The weather was rainy so I just found a bistro around the corner from my hotel and enjoyed a delicious and relaxing meal with understated service. It had kitschy decor, which I didn't notice until I was seated and started looking around. The ceiling was covered in nets and plastic fish, and the walls with colored glass and nautical objects. Paris to me is always surprising and rarely disappoints. I was only there for a few hours, and even though my train left very early, I felt recharged. The bullet south was a blur until the last hour where we slowed and made several stops before the Baritz/Bayonne station. I then boarded a small probably diesel train (I called it the cattle car) for St Jean. It was packed with pilgrims. This was the first taste of what felt like the Camino. People of different ages from all over, speaking many languages. There were grizzly old veterans with weathered gear, who looked like they had been on a hundred caminos. They had old bejeweled walking sticks and looked like wizards as much as anything else. There were nervous newbies like myself with brand new overstuffed packs, scallop shells, trekking poles, and jackets. After arriving in St. Jean, I took a few minutes to get my bearings, and when I looked up, I was standing alone at the station. My hotel was outside of St. Jean, and I bypassed old town and walked what ended up being 45 minutes along a rural highway to Hotel Restaurant Mendy in Saint-Jean-le-Vieux. I name it because it was a delightful stay with amazing food. I was too tired to really look at the menu and ended up with a perfect hanger steak and pomme frittes. The chocolate mousse was so good I wept. I visited the first of many small churches next to the hotel,

and saw what looked like a mission cross in the graveyard. April 20th, the next morning, on a clear and cool day I walked back to St. Jean-Pied-de-Port, and started the Camino de Santiago.