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Continuing Series: Century Resident’s Journal As She Hikes Across Spain

Century resident Terri Sanders is on a 500 mile hike across Spain this summer, and she is taking NorthEscambia.com readers along.

Terri, former owner of the Country Bumpkin and current purveyor of fudge at festivals  and events across the area, calls it the “trip of a lifetime”.

As Terri hikes from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, France, she will file dispatches from her journal and send pictures when possible for NorthEscambia.com as she hikes the Camino de Santiago — the Way of St. James — to the Atlantic Ocean. here is no Internet access between towns, but she will send us her journal entries as she arrives in towns along the way that do have Internet access — so Terri’s journal entries on NorthEscambia.com may be delayed by a few days.

For her first entry, click here.

In today’s journal entry from Spain, it’s May 31. Terri is making her way to the starting point for her hike, running into lots of language barriers as she tries to make her way to southern France.

May 31, 2010

Surprisingly I slept pretty well. The first thing I noticed when I got up was that the window in the room actually opened up. After swinging it open the fresh air rushed in and filled the room with the scent of spring. I leaned out the window amazed that there was no screen no were there any signs warning me that I might fall out of the window!

I went downstairs to see if the day clerk at the desk spoke better English than the clerk last night. I was in luck she did speak English well enough to tell me that there was no way to get to St. Jean Pied A port from here unless I took a taxi which would cost several hundred dollars went back upstairs and told Ronnie. She is planning on getting on the Camino here rather than go to St. Jean.

She is afraid she will not be able to finish the Camino by her deadline. There was a continental breakfast here and I actually was able to order hot green tea to go with me meal. I only recognized a few of the items on the table. There were trays with a selection of thinly sliced meats. At least I assumed they were meats.

I got a croissant, picked up some sliced pineapple, a kiwi and a pack of honey along with a glass of orange juice. I made myself a nice little sandwich only to find that the slice of pineapple was a slice of cheese. It was a good breakfast anyway.

There was another family eating and when they heard us say hello they came over to talk to us. The older gentleman is walking the Camino with his wife and granddaughters slacking him every day. His Spanish conversation with the clerk got me the information to catch a bus outside the hotel into Pamplona, where I could catch a bus to Zubiri and from there catch a cab to St .Jean where I am to meet up with Africa. Plan A is for us to meet at the bus station in St. Jean today. Plan B is for us to meet at the bus station in St.Jean today. If plan A or BB fails, plan C is to call the authorities and report the other as missing!

As hard as I tried I could not get the family to give me a ride to St. Jean after they dropped the grandpa off. So much for the art of yoging in Spain. We were almost out of the hotel door when the clerk caught us asking us if we were leaving now to which we replied yes. She said we needed to pay for our room. We thought we had paid for it last night when we checked in, but apparently here you pay in the morning when you leave.

I bid Ronnie goodbye and sat my pack down at the bus stop. Across the road I kept noticing people walking into this obtuse little door, then come out a few minutes later with a loaf of bread wrapped partially in wax paper. No advertising, no signs except for one above the door that said Alimentcion. I grabbed my camera and decided to go across and take a picture of someone coming out with a loaf of bread.

I can’t even go into Wal-Mart and come out with just a loaf of bread! The next person that came out was a guy and as best I could I tried to explain to him that I just wanted to take his picture with the bread in his hand. Obviously he thought I was trying to take or beg his bread from him and rattled off lots of words and lots of finger pointing at the door. When he finally calmed down enough and saw the camera in my hand, he leaned against his car and gave me a smile. I snapped the camera and walked away.

As I waited for the bus I noticed all of the houses had window boxes in them and they were all filled with petunias. I guess it is spring over here. The sky is overcast and a light drizzle started. An older lady came up and smiled at me as I moved my pack off of the bench so she could sit down. The bus came and she motioned for me to follow her. I showed the driver the note that the hotel clerk had wrote out for me and he assured me I was on the right bus.

The buses here are worse than the taxis in New York. I was sure we were going to crash before we ever got to downtown Pamplona. I was intrigued to find that people really do hang their laundry out of the windows to dry. I thought that was staged for the benefit of a film crew. The laundry hanging out the high windows was almost as colorful as the window boxes on the lower windows.

Gradually one by one we picked up and dropped off passengers until the bus pulled over, the driver got his coat and got off the bus. Not a word to me until just at the last minute he said this was the end of the route. I asked him where the bus station was and he motioned down the road with his hand and walked off. I guess the courtesy ends with the shift change.

All I could do was begin walking in the general direction he sent me and hoped I would not end up walking to St.Jean today. After a few blocks, I stopped a young man and got the point across I was looking for the bus station. I got the same response from him, a way of his hand, a couple of sentences and he was off. I kept walking.

Finally after a few blocks I stopped a man in a three piece suit I managed to get across to him I was looking for the bus station spoke French with only a few words of English, but he recognized the words bus station. Rather than give me a general wave of his hand, he turned around and motioned me to follow him down the street all the while trying to find words to tell me where I needed to go.

He finally said black and motioned with his hands tall and round and pointed me down the street, smiled and turned and walked away. I started walking again and lo and behold a few blocks away I could see tall black columns along the road. It took me some back tracking to find out how to get across the roads. There are barriers all along the sidewalks so there is no jay walking.

I had walked completely by the building looking for a door to the inside but all I found were stairs and some signs that I could not read. I smelled diesel fuel though so I knew I was close to some buses somewhere!

After going down a few flights of stairs I walked out onto the lot where buses park. No sign of a ticket booth or anything but I knew I had to be close .Twists and turns and finally I saw the terminal. There were a couple ticket windows to choose from; of course I got into the wrong line. The clerk looked at my paper and sent me around the corner to an information window where I finally met someone who spoke pretty good English.

She read my note, and sent me back around the corner to the window next to where I had just come.

I got my ticket and figured out I had 3 hours to wait for the bus. Everything here is military time. I walked around the station looking for the bathrooms. It took two trips around before I found them. The doors going into them looked like office doors. The station here is similar to the airports back home. Small stores selling a variety of wares. A couple small cafes, and a beer stand.

I saw a store front that was familiar to me…Kentucky Fried Chicken with a Pizza Hut right next door. The thought of a cold drink got me headed in the direction of the store, but when I got there I realized it was too early in the morning for them to be open. I went back to the terminal and opened my net book up since the signs said Wi Fi. Every connection I tried required a password. I noticed that my battery was almost completely gone and set out looking for a place to plug it in to charge it. I had no luck.

I sat and watched the news in Spanish picking up the name Clint Eastwood but could not read the rest of the ticker along the bottom of the TV. I also was able to see that there were blue skies called for the next few days. I wondered if the weatherman had looked outside.

Out in the parking garage I noticed two Pepsi machines side by side. Bingo! I walked over to them and sure enough there was an electrical outlet. I dug my laptop out squeezed in between both drink machines and plugged my computer in. I got my little rubber pad out of my pack, put it on the floor and sat down. I figured all anyone could do would be to come over and make me unplug and leave. I sat there until close to the time my bus would leave.

I tried to get on one bus, but after looking at my paper, he sent me to another bus. A much smaller bus. I was the only passenger. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was on my way to St. Jean and I was in one piece. The driver let me know where to get off, and showed me a pub where she said I could find help. There is something about hiking trails and pubs. I always seem to end up in a pub where ever I am hiking.

I showed the note to the bartender, he showed me the payphone. Of course I could not read a thing. I held out a handful of coins, he showed me which ones I needed to make a call, and with an exasperated sign gave me the number. In Spanish of course! The look on my face must have been disappointing, because his girlfriend rattled off something to him and he called the taxi for me.

An hour later I was still waiting for the taxi. The bartender pick up his cell phone and calls the taxi. He tells me another ten minutes. I smile and say thank you.

Finally my taxi arrives and wants to drink a cup of coffee before taking off. Not a problem to me, I have spent hours waiting. We finally get going and try to communicate as best we can. I showed him my paper (thank God for that piece of paper) he nods yes and off we go.

The roads remind me of the ones in Tennessee where you meet yourself coming around the corner. As time goes on I begin to think, this is not a short cab ride. Then I start to fret about having enough to pay him. I have some Euros but mostly American dollars. We pull into St. Jean and he looks at my paper again. ”No bus station here” he says.

I wonder then, well why did you bring me here if you knew there was not a bus station here?? Panic begins to set in, and I guess he could see that I was on the brink of having a nervous breakdown right there in his taxi. He pulls over and says we find English speaker. I am thinking we need more than an English speaker now. We need a divine intervention and a bank loan to pay his bill.

He is smiling broadly as he come out of the store and climb into the car, which he had left sitting in the middle of the road. A few more blocks and we pull up into the bus parking lot. He grabs my pack, shaking his head and helps me into it. I pull out my wallet and watch him figure in his head how much I owed him. He says seventy Euros. I have a fifty euro and two five dollar bills and a ten. I offer than to him, but I can see it is not enough. I ask him about an ATM but I guess he was afraid to let me back in his car, because he took what I offered him, kissed both my cheeks and sped away.

I was supposed to meet Lou here today. It never occurred to me that he might not be there. My first stop was at the clerk’s window saying Banyo or bathroom. I took a quick look around but I was in too big of a hurry to take in the fact that there was not another person in the station.

Once I got back inside the station (the bathroom was outside), I looked around and did not see Lou. I knew I was a day short getting here. I was supposed to be here yesterday, but we were meeting here today. Of course the clerks spoke no English or Spanish but now it seemed everyone spoke French.

My Spanish/English dictionary was no help at all. Well it hadn’t really helped me much up to this point anyway. I waited an hour for the next bus from Bayonne which I knew was where Lou was coming from. He was not on the bus and my ability to keep panic from taking over was becoming weaker and weaker.

The station closed at 6:30 and they were adamant that I could not stay inside over night. Sign language does work in a lot of languages! With nothing else to do I walked up the road to a little produce stand and a bar. Now this was a new one on me. Buy produce and beer in the same place! It was pretty close to an open air market.

By this time I was starved and picked up some fresh fruit and yogurt. Putting them on the counter I pulled out my credit card. It seemed you had to spend 15 Euros to use plastic. The young clerk pointed me in the direction of the ATM and off I went. I am carrying 3 cards with money on each one. None of them worked. Then I remembered a bank debit card I had and low and behold it worked. I know there are some of you who cannot believe this but I have never used a debit card in my life.

Now was not a great time to learn. I managed to get some Euros and went back to buy my groceries. I would not allow myself to think any further than a few minutes ahead. I sat down inside and asked if I could charge my laptop. Yes and would I like the password for internet access? Well something good was finally happening to me.

I downloaded my email and the first thing I saw was a Facebook message from my oldest daughter. Lou had been to the bus station that morning and I was not there. In fact he had been there several times looking for me. My daughter is pretty level headed but I not used to getting a phone call at 3:00 am asking her where her mother is. She went into a panic mode.

I had several messages from her telling me to call her or call Lou.I guess she forgot that I did not bring my phone with me. She ended up calling Lou (thank God for caller ID) and after about 30 minute of emails and phone calls from her, she sent me a message saying hold on, stay put, do not move, Lou is on his way!

I was never so glad to see anyone in my life. I am glad he recognized me because I don’t think I would have recognized him. It had been 5 years since I have seen him on the Appalachian Trail. He had been on the trail 6 months and had a full beard and looked pretty rough. We hugged like long lost friends and headed up to the hostel where he was staying. I got a room and we went in search of supper.