TEACH YOU FOR MAKING FUN OF THE SAINTS

ARZACQ-ARRAZIGUET, FRANCE

Just when things seem to be going well except for the very excessive humidity, my shin problem starts up again. And it happens 3 km out of Pimbo (rhymes with Bimbo, appropriately enough).

The European walkers seem only to understand blisters and tendonitis, both of which they insist are caused by too little water and not using walking sticks. They are SURE I have blisters and am successfully hiding them. And of course, not treating them. When I try to explain shin splints and even mention the word tendon, they zone out and mutter, "Ah, tendon-nee-tis" and the very next word is "eau" (pronounced OH and means water). I am tempted to show everyone that my urine is not at all concentrated, thank you very much. And I will DIE before I get walking sticks. Only Anne Marie, also a runner, understands and she is out on the camino or chemin or somewhere. And if all that eau and all those walking sticks help so much, why do all of them have ampoules and tendon-ee-tis?

So I may be stuck in this one horse town for another day. C'est la chemin.

Oh, remember the Les Poulets. I found a free-range chicken postcard yesterday!!!!! The chickens are imagining themselves in their daydreams of being little French soldiers (sans helicopters, I hope) and call themselves Les Poulets de la Libertie. AND they are wearing little de Gaulle hats and have little moustaches. Truly a find. Today was poultry day. We saw canards and poulets aplenty. One batch of geese even tried to attack us but got stopped by the fence. Did you ever look into a goose's mouth and see its angrily throbbing tongue? Not a pretty sight. I don't mind so much now that they insert a funnel down their throats and stuff them with grain before they butcher them. Serves the nasty little critters right.

Well, will keep you updated.

FRENCH PARATROOPERS ATTACK PILGRIM

AIRE SUR L'ADOUR, FRANCE

NO? THESE AREN'T THE PARATROOPERS? THEY ARE THE NEW SET OF FRENCH LADIES I GET TO SLEEP WITH TONIGHT ALL ALONE IN A DESERTED GITE OUTSIDE THE CITY.....

How do these things happen to me?

Anyway I was out walking normally today, segueing from Bruce Springsteen to Harry Chapin none to soon, moving between wooded paths, vineyards, and big fields. Minding my own business. There was a big field above me to my left and I heard a big tractor combine coming my way. A real big one....really big. Coming up over the hill right at me. Suddenly over the crest comes this French military helicopter just right over me. I almost did a big merde. I was out in the open and no where to run for cover. My rendition of THUNDER ROAD I admit was pretty awful and I was struggling to get the melody of CAT IN THE CRADLE but being pecked off by a band of french paratroopers was a little excessive I thought.

Well, it flew off a little ways and doubled back right to me again. Now I was really scared. I figured that there was a terrorist stalking the countryside (how reassuring) or that George Bush pulled another boner. I guess they got their jollies because they left me alone after that. In other circumstances I would very much welcome French paratroopers.


Here I am with Alex, note his crucifix shaped walking staff!!!!!! I was hoping that he would be a worthy successor to Jorge and Joseph, my former walking companions from last year. But I don't think that will work out. He is wedded to a group he has been with since Le Puy and those ties are hard to break. They only speak French. So it is me and my songbook. Why didn't I bring some Patsy Cline?

The only other exciting thing today was at a farm I passed. Half the chickens had gotten out of their yard and were very upset. I tried to shoo them back in but they just clucked stupidly at the hole in the wire fence. There were an old man and woman and a younger man in the yard looking at a piece of old machinery. I wanted to alert them in my limited French. So I yelled "Pardon, pardon" until they looked up. Then I kept yelling "Les Poulets, les poulets," while I sort of flapped my arms like I was trying to fly. Lord, you would think that I was the French David Letterman by their reaction. The younger man, a Jean Paul Belmondo look a like (from a distance) in black Tee and with cigarette hanging from his lips bellowed out a laughing and haughty bit of doggerel. Did they honestly think I had never seen chickens before? Oh well. This is what passes for excitement on the chemin.

DIVINE INTERVENTION

I finally broke down and asked for help, beings that I am doing this religious thing and all. I was still having some more than annoying right shin pain and calf swelling. So I kind of prayed to Saint Motrin and dosed myself a healthy 800mgs this morning after 2 hours of hiking and boy did that stuff work.

The picture is of me with St Roch, a popular saint on the route. He is the one with the suppurating wound of the right leg that was cured after he walked with his dog as a beggar. He was especially popular in the days of the Plague but could do me no good. Maybe you have to believe or something?

The photo was taken at the gite in Condom. It was in a former wine or armagnac factory--very tastefully renovated and right on a river outside of town. By the way I did find about a dozen postcards, not a total loss.

Walked path made from an abandoned rail line part of afternoon (some film guy renovated this old station for rural retreat) for longest hike in over a week, almost 2. Lots more characters so should have some stories soon.

I don't get this blog stuff. It looks like the old stuff is gone. Uuurgh!

RETURN TO BROKEBACK: NIGHTMARE ON CHEMIN MOUNTAIN

THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN ENTRY FOR APRIL 23

SYNOPSIS: Middle aged, pious and penitant Manhattan guppy is on 1000 mile religious pilgrimage to NW Spain and finds himself stranded in a rural French gite alone with 9 French and Belgian women all with butch haircuts none of whom are lesbians. He is put in room with the one who seems most on the make. For film purposes will change bunk beds for king-sized bed with pink satin sheets. After such a night will he find a life of pain and remorse or one of love and fulfillment?

Ah, I survived. I had thought it would happen two nights previously and it didn't. Then it did last night. I realize I should have taken the top bunk as it would have been easier to kick off the attackers. But luckily that was not necessary.

Went out today for waht was to be my first walk over 20 km in well over a week. But my guide book was marked wrong and I inadvertantly took the shortcut (missing yet another Gothic church and cloister) and got into Condom early in the day. With 10 minutes to scope out the postcard scene.

WHAT a disappointment. Evart said there were scads of condom (as in preservatif) cards all over town. I should have known that for a non collector, scads means 3 or 4, not 30 or 40 like I was expecting. I have 2 of them already. But it is Monday and I am afraid that the shops won't reopen!!!!!!! Talk about lost opportunities!

Well, this is me at the pool at the gite yesterday. The French do do-it-right. This belonged to family who owned gite but we got to use it. Too cold for swimming but great for soaking weary feet and legs. We were in two little cabins in the woods (you now understand my nervousness and the Brokeback metaphor) overlooking a big valley.

Made my first gite reservation today by means of my new cell phone--I feel so European. I have to call in advance as I still cannot pronounce today yet. Oh well, only 1 more week in this country if leg and body hold up. Over 1/3 of way done.

THE KARAOKE CHEMIN (CAMINO) REALLY BEGINS

THIS SHOULD ACTUALLY LABELED AS APRIL 20 POST.

I have been posting entries onto another blog I had opened inadvertently--not this one, though they both have the same name--go figure. So I had to copy those and transfer them to this blog. So about 4 of them are labelled the same date (the date they actually get published on this blog....confusion, confusion, confusion). Oh the wonders of modern life.

I have an English keyboard today--courtesy of this lovely French man who lives in Auvillar and runs a little internet place. He is half American and actually was born in Bloomington, Indiana!!!! I was ready to spend the rest of my days there when he brought up the dreaded G word--G soon to be W (as in girlfriend and wife). Oh well. Not that I don't love my life back in New York. But fantasies do have a bit of pleasant drama to them.

So, I recovered a bit. Had three rest days in the former Carmelite convent in Moissac--a story in itself.

I went to Toulouse yesterday for a day trip. Of course I got lost right away. I spotted a restaurant called Antalya Kebab. I figured it was Turkish and went in. There was a head scarved woman cleaning the floors and I asked her in Turkish if she was Turkish. I can't imagine what she thought of this middle aged man in shorts, Orange shirt and matching orange hat. I didn't think I looked like any kind of authority from Immigration but she looked spooked. But she answered my question finally saying yes. So I asked in Turkish if she knew where the cathedral was. She said, "Cathedral?" I said, "Yes, the big church..."

I didn't realize asking a headscarved Muslim woman in a foreign town about churches was tantamount to asking a nun where the best whore houses were. She really got even more spooked and called for someone. A rather Goth (as in punk, not as in 12-13th century) looking young girl with really overdone black makeup and stringy black hair came down and started asking me questions in French which was a BIG help. Anyway she pointed out the way to St. Sernan (which is NOT the cathedral but was where I wanted to go).

The rest of the tour was uneventful except for SHOPPING. This was a big city remember...the first I had been in since Paris. I was able to get a silk sleeping bag liner and sent my sleeping bag home today (another story which I will spare you--just imagine me trying to fill out a customer satisfaction survey in French in triplicate BEFORE I could sent the package) . So now I am sleeping in silk sheets every night. I also got a slightly malfunctioning water delivery system so I don't have to use those annoying water bottles. I got that to work with the judicious use of a knife and careful positioning in my pack--so it is all set up for me to sip water from a long tube without stopping or reaching much.

And I got some Quechua (a very popular French outdoor gear line) socks in orange and grey. I wanted to get the whole Quechua line up (in a marvelous shade of grey and orange) from backpack to toes but held back. Everything in France is so expensive anyway (except food strangely enough--though the f----ing breakfasts run about 5-7 dollars--a real rip off) and I could not risk getting stylish things that did not hold up on the trail.

The way today was 12 miles almost all along a canal that was well shaded with big sycamores. A better path and day could not have been ordered. Since I had it to myself I thought it was time to inaugurate the karaoke camino. I pulled out my sheaf of songs and let loose. I started--like they did in PRISCILLA, QUEEN OF THE DESERT--with I'VE NEVER BEEN TO ME. I thought it rather appropriate. I did a few other disco numbers and a few Johnny Cash--luck of the draw. It was really quite fun. And it was my 57th birthday. The present was getting back on the trail.

I did try to interest Anne Marie in a song fest about a week ago. I think now the choice of IT'S RAINING MEN was probably not the most appropriate for a 64 year old Parisian ultramarathoner. Maybe I AM WOMAN would have been better. Anyway, she looked at me kinda funny and pushed the songs back to me.

I have a CELL PHONE now. I figured that now that since I am alone I needed to somehow make reservations at the gites along the way (only 12 to go until Spain). And I figured that since I don't understand all those cell phone plan things in English, it would not be too much different in French. The young lady in Toulouse spoke just enough English that I think I got the cheapest deal (cheap in France is relative--and relatively expensive unless you know the ropes). So now I have a phone that works only in France and free minutes for 14 days. I think. Of course I still don't know how to work it. Just like in the USA. And yes the 20 euro phone I was told I could get ended up costing me 80. Now making reservations in French should be FUN.

Well, the gite tonight is incredible. I am sleeping between two French men. How is that for a birthday fantasy (but they are middle aged. One is not so bad looking though). I thought I was going to end up in a big room with a bunch of middle aged French women with butch haircuts (though definitely not lesbians). So I am not complaining.Enough for one day--I have food shopping to do. I can't get rid of this picture by the way.....so I just put it at the bottom.

IN THE MIDDLE AGES THEY COULD CURE CRIPPLES

THIS WAS WEDNESDAY APRIL 18 AND ORIGINALLY WENT TO BLOG HELL

Still, as expected, with the sore shin. But I have gotten the correct pronunciation of glacon (ice) down and do not get those annoying blank stares. But that could also be because I go to the same coffee shops and tip kinda big too. I have been having dinner in the gite to keep from walking to shop...and my paltry dinners will not start (when I get back on the trail, probably alone) until the memories of our earlier feasts fade from my mind.

Weather report is good for the next 4 days so I am getting anxious.I am only 3 days walk from Condom (though I may have to do it in 4 averaging 12 miles a day) which promises to be a tacky postcard paradise.

This is Daniel on one of the fabulous Romanesque capitals in the cloister at Moissac. The cathedral itself is a kind of a mishmash with this incredible late 12th century south door with a wild tympanum and sinuous figures holding it up. I have yet to do mass and vespers and such there but may resort to it soon if my shin does not get better....

Tour Gourmandaise

Yes, the Dutch banker. His favorite word in English is exquisite. As in, let's have an exquisite appertive, followed by an exquisite little piece of sausage, then an exquisite piece of meat ( "I wish I had my Turk butcher here."), then an exquisite cheese.... Well you get the idea. And he does all the really wonderful cooking in the meagre confines of tiny crowded kitchens infested with hordes of other pilgrims. I never ate so well. Not as much fun as Anne Marie but what the heck.

Well I finally figured out how to do pictures. The above is me in a field of something. I got leaf cuts on my ankles by such antics.

here is the gite we stayed in the other night. it is in the the former presbytery of the church. The priest washed all the pigrims' feet prior to the service. I thankfully missed out on it due to the fact that I was in the shower washing my own feet among other things.



Weather has been overcast and humid lately. I think once I get on the way I will be using the poncho a lot. And I will get a prelude to the infamous Navarra mud. Hope to get back soon.

Busted Flat in Moissac

Busted Flat in Moissac
Waiting for a Train
I was feeling bout as faded as my pack....

History DOES have a way of repeating itself. Two weeks into my trip last year I got crippling left shin splint that put me off the road for 6 days. Yesterday the right one started. Lots of ice and rest did nothing to help it. And now it looks like I will be in Moissac for at least 2 more days.

Moissac, at least, is a hot spot. Well, it was. I missed its heyday by about 850 years. I am staying in some sort of semi-religious gite or hostel that may or may not be affiliated with Carmelites. It is cheap at least.

Life without Anne Marie is just not the same. Three days alone with the Dutch banker were not too bad. He is the gourmand.

F----? I was supposed to get 30 minutes on this card and only got about 10. I have to publish this now or lose it. More later.

Friday the 13th Deep Merde

Still going on strong. Yesterday was a bit of a downer. We took a wrong turn out of Vivaire and went 6-7 miles out of our way. Everyone was in really FOUL moods. Evard blamed Anne Marie and kept up an incessant rant for the rest of the time I was with him. ("French women. They wont' admit when they are wrong. Never trust them. Never trust any women. I blame myself. I knew better but let myself be talked out of it." On so on.) I saw this most wonderful chateau which I must have whenever I get the 4 or 5 million euros to buy it. I wonder if they have a lottery.

Then rain in the afternoon which did not really do anything for the horrid humidity. All in all it was a bruising 24 or more miles. The last one is downhill at a 60 degree incline. Prior to that was about 4 miles of dry shrub land with nothing around.

The youth hostel in Cahors where I am is a smelly ratty affair but actually a nice change of pace. Today we do an easy 12 miles and sleep with sisters in a Carmelite convent. [Turns out it was a FORMER Carmelite convent.]

Anne Marie and Pierre left us today. I still may meet her in Spain. She is taking a train to Condom, doing the last part of the French route then coming back to Cahors to walk a bit with her friend to Condom, then going back to St. Jean and walking Spain all the way to Santiago.

Weather holding up, just the drizzles. Still a lot of heat and humidity but as you can see, lots of spring flowers.

The Academy Award for Supporting Role in Pilgrim Benediction Goes to.....

YES, YES, YES. ME !!!!!!!

First I would like to thank all the little people who helped me......

Sunday we did a lot of church stuff seeing as how Conques is pretty much the church and the abbey. We had high mass in the morning, a short pilgrimage to Chapel of St: Foy outside of city (1/2 mile downhill, 1/2 uphill, 1/2 downhill, 1/2 up)? vespers at 6:30, dinner in the abbey at 7, followed by the pilgrim benediction in the cathedral. They needed someone to do a reading in English. While I was a bit miffed that I was not first choice (what with my pilgrim emeritus status and all) but THIRD? I accepted none the less. I got to sit up by the altar under the crossing dome while the other pilgrims were in the choir. I did Revelations 22, 4-5. And I boomed it out like Jennifer Houston in Dreamgirls. This was followed by an immediate 10 minutes of silence....I thought I left the padres speechless but it was probably just a prayer moment.

I was so enthralled I decided to sing out loud in my flat voice in fractured French the rest of the songs. Karaoke Camino (Chemin, I should say) indeed. The service ended with a piano and organ concert. Quite nice.

Going out of Conques, I revisited the Chapel of St. Foy (which was on the way--down 200 meters and up 200 meters) in order to light a candle for my friend Mark who has a special regard for either the chapel or the saint....or both. The chapel is pictured to the left in the morning fog. St. Foy, a biggie on the chemin, was a local saint and cures eye diseases. They have a big procession from Conques to the chapel every fall.

I have been having a bit of trouble with a blocked tear duct and figured that my two trips to the chapel (as well as toting a candle from the cathedral for Mark and another for the son of a friend of Anne Marie who had some serious head trauma in a motorcycle accident in Paris recently) might qualify me for just a tiny little miraclette. And I vowed that, while I wouldn't pray for it, I would consider the whole church thing again if the eye thing cleared up. [Note: it didn't.]

The tough terrain of the Central Massiff has given way to more undulating hills. We made it to Figeac today. Annie leaves us. I only have three more days with Anne Marie. Have to get in another group....supposedly there are more hikers after Easter. There were two burly guys yesterday I would not have minded joining. But they were roughing it and sleeping outside. Then there is the guy doing it on horseback. I can see myself getting in the saddle with him.

Today we bought some local cevre from a farm we passed up on the hill and had an alfresco lunch on the trail. They had about 40 dogs of various breeds, goats, pigs; and a donkey. One of the dogs was a big bloodhound that was howling like a banshee. A little puffy thing was screwing a much much larger hairy dog. It looked like a Heironymus Bosch painting. Luckily we saw the spotless chesse facilities and house before the owners came back (with 4 more baying dogs). Otherwise I for one would not have eaten anything from that place.

The Aubrac brown cows who have really stolen my heart have given way to Gurnseys and Jerseys with huge udders. We are on the rout de la lait. So I guess I will be having a lot more cheese.

Weather is still fantastic--sunny and mild. But it has got to rain soon.

Conques-ered

Arrived in Conques this morning in time for high mass on Easter. This entailed the 5 of us getting up at 5:30 and leaving gite at 6:30. The girls had head lamps but we really did not need them as there was a waning half moon to light the way. It was up, up, up then down, down, down.
We had a huge argument last night about the distance. Three separate guidebooks put it at 11, 13, and 16 km (as if that make a whole lot of difference--well, that is at least an hour walking from least to most). And each of us insisted ours was correct. So we got in 1 1/2 hours early and nearly missed a good seat in the cathedral because we went our separate ways in town once we got here. The mass was great--all incense, robes, and singing. None of us took communion.

Anne Marie and Evart are in constant battles. First is how we dine apres hike. E thinks it should be 4 courses, superbly prepared and AnneMarie thinks we should just throw things together (though she sets standards). Each tries to enlist me on his or side. And of course I agree with each one but always give in to Anne Marie.

Then they fight about the window at night. E wants it open; AM closed. The fights are in English (I think for my benefit) and go like this: "I cannot sleep in a sarchophagus!" and "I cannot sleep in a refrigerator. Then they both look at me.

Our other two companions are Annie the abused divorced housewife from the north of France. She is 40 something and in total fear of both E and AM and, like me, agrees to both of their ideas. Then there is Pierre a 60 something bachelor retiree from the French Alps who is going all the way to Santiago. He looks like a French leprechaun and even wears a pointed felt hat. He is too wise to even get into an argument. Neither of them speak any English.

OTHER THAN THAT everything is splendid. We dine with the monks tonight in the abbey and get a special blessing after. Then ups and downs tomorrow. If the weather holds that won't be a problem.

Anne Marie and the Aubrac

I promised to tell you all about my savior, Anne Marie: I met her in the cathedral at Le Puy and have been with her since: She is a 64 yr old French retired businesswoman from Paris: I thought I hit the jackpot--that we would be having long leisurely lunches and fancy dinners on a regular basis. Then she started telling me about all her exploits like 6 day ultramarathon runs. She told me about climbing Mont Blanc in August and passing out on top and almost losing both toes to frostbite and having to be helicoptered off. Turns out she likes to have things relatively austere so we have been cooking all our own food and taking it very easy on the wine.

UNTIL we met Evart the retired Dutch banker who loves the good life. He has us making 4 course meals in the gites every night regardless of facilities. We did lamb roast one night and a nice pasta dish last night. I contributed sliced tomato with onion and tuna. But A M is rebelling and we are only having soup and bread and cheese tonight: Somehow I am losing weight AND eating the lion's share of the food so what is there to complain about?

Two days ago we had snow flurries all day: Yesterday it was fog in the morning and glorious sun in PM. Today it was all sun and fantastic: The flowers birds; and tress are all going wild: The way is still very hilly but just a delight: We did 18 miles today with a lot of uphill: Tomorrow is worse--we are doing a push to get to Conques for Easter high mass.