Thursday 27 November 2014

a day in Puenta la Reina . . .

. . . last night was interesting, the six beds in dormitory four full . . . a symphony of snoring . . . wake early, coffee from the machine, chat with Craig . . . Pep and Sergio come for breakfast . . . they are starting early for Estella . . . an easy 22km after yesterday . . . I join them for an hour, walking in the dark without the pack . . . easy . . . at dawn, turn back . . . pass Craig . . . offer to carry his pack up the hill . . . no thanks, I have to do it alone . . . pass other pilgrims . . . arrive at the Albergue in time to discover I have stay out until midday . . . wander the streets, find the well hidden tourist information centre . . . Tito's bar with wifi . . . reflecting on the roles we play and how much we can choose them . . . happy with roles, chosen or given; just want to hold them lightly . . . and having played pilgrim for a while and found the norm to be 25-30 km day after day to get to Santiago . . . encouraged by feedback from friends reading the blog and facebook posts . . . consider playing "writer" for a while . . . the camino is certainly a rich vein for people's stories, the way replete with metaphorical opportunity . . . slow it down, shorter stages, rest days . . . Ernest Hemingway can be my hero for a while . . . he is well known in Pamplona, just a few kilometres from here . . . read him years ago . . . shot himself in the mouth in the end I think . . . lived full on and chose his time to move on . . . perhaps all that bull-fighting pulled him into the bloody death scene . . . 

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