Our Camino on Youtube

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUdkponeIxQ

A few thoughts from the end of the world

I am finding that I am finishing the camino with more questions unanswered than when I started.  It has been an incomparable experience & one that I look forward to doing again.  There have been high and low points. I've realized that I have a new pet peeve.  I am about done hearing exclamations of self realization. 

I once watched a documentary where a man talks about his feelings towards going to church.  He says people go and share these profound moments of pure love and then they leave the church and return to normalcy and excuse their poor attitudes until the next Sunday.
Under all of these proclamations of joy and appreciation that I'm hearing day by day there is still a lot of complaining and negativity throughout the day as well.
My father says you will experience intense grief and joy equally in life. I wish people viewed the virtue of honesty the same way.   We must be honest about our lows as well as our highs.

I think if we spent a little less time bullshitting people about our humility and spent a little more time proactively creating positive outcomes for ourselves on and off the camino, we would all be better off.  Admit to pettiness,  I don't understand why it's so hard to say "Yes, I'm upset because of something ridiculous" .  No one is happy all the time, and sure everyone tells you it's best to say only nice things, but I find it incredibly dishonest when they are things you don't mean and when they are coming from social expectation & not your heart.
I'm no poster child of positive energy. I don't fake smiles when I'm whining like a little bitch on the inside. (Tom actually approached me and asked if I had a problem with him in the beginning because of how angry I can seem at times) but I am an open book.
The camino was hard for me.  I've taken busses, I've taken taxis, I've cried and I've nearly given up.
Many of my new friends have walked more of the kilometres than me but I'm ok with that.  Having steps left to take gives me an excuse to come back. My body couldn't have taken it this time. Training is no joke and I will prepare myself next time.  I could have elected to walk 15km days as I had the time but I find the camino community averages 25/day.  I maintained that for 90% of the camino, but would have never kept up  to my camino family if I didn't throw in the towel.
Being close to these people who are expressing themselves purely and honestly has become the best part of my personal road.
I try to say yes to every opportunity given to me here. I am trying my damnedest to experience every moment that I can.   I struggle with finding happiness in life but admitting to that leaves me far more open to finding it. It's not where I'm from, it's not who I'm with, it's not the #1stworldproblems that get me down at any given moment. I am 100% responsible for my own energy as are we all.
Throwing myself into this experience was one of the best choices I've ever made and I look forward to carrying a more spontaneous outlook on life forward. I sincerely hope that we all can take the camino back home and continue living with the energy we've found here .

Now someone come swim in the ocean with me lol

Alpha and Omega

The end is the beginning.  The camino is complete.  I found this to be one of the more significant variations along the way; the Cathedral in Santiago has Omega Alpha rather than the beginning and end. Our journey has come to a close but really it's just the beginning of something great.  I wish I could quantify what the way has [insert plausible verb] me.  It's just out of my lexical.

Instead I'll talk about our closure.  Most of our blog explained the aches and struggles, we did mention how worth it it is to keep going and how the community is life altering but I want to reinforce how much I enjoyed this trip.  It wasn't always a vacation but it wasn't always a trial.  Des and I managed to squeeze the very essence of opportunity out of the last two months.  We happened to have had a legendary camino, which makes me proud.  Thank you to all of those out there along the way, each and every one of you that bumped into us have led us to this moment.

This moment, my goodness, the end of the world!  Imagine if you can blinding fog, misty wet rocky shores and an ocean you can hear but not see.  I love that our first time at the lighthouse was nothing but white abyss.  It felt poetic to reach kilometre zero and actually feel but more importantly visualize a clean slate.  We did it.  We walked to the end of the world and it was cold and wet and foggy just like our start in the Pyrenees.  It was a beautiful cycle to experience.  The end was actually just like the beginning.  I haven't burned my shoes (weather was not cooperating) but that's okay.  I'm so blissfully content and pleased to go about my last few days at will as the world comes.  Maybe I can throw them off the jagged cliff if the rain refuses to stop.

And so one final time, buen camino (unless you're a cyclist in which case I will always hate you).  Good way dear friends.

All the blogs I should have written by now in one.

I have developed a respect for people who can blog while travelling. So much has happened and I don't even know how to begin putting it into words. By Pamplona we had become part of a very solid camino family. 

Graham and Anto - two best friends from Ireland.

Graham our commander general, a driven & ambitious individual with a heart of gold under his no nonsense exterior. Anto a well balanced counterpart with a heart to match Graham's, except hers is embroidered on her sleeve in neon thread you can see from space.  

I am confident that it was the tone created by the two of them that kept such a large group of us together for so long. Sadly we lost Anto to the real world in Burgos when she returned home, and no word of a lie, Graham is now at the very least, 200km ahead of us. We have reconnected with other members of the family in the journey from Burgos to Leon. Sara - from New Mexico, smashing out 30 days and going for a run in the evening. 

Roly from Montana, our camino heart & soul. One of the most genuine people I've ever had the honour to meet, with an appreciation for life I find remarkable for a 21 year old. 

James, a fashionably handsome Irish father figure who pushes himself forward through affliction after affliction. 

One morning we met James while we were waiting to catch a bus through an industrial area and in the blistering heat, James himself elected to tip along and walk the distance.  He has shown us kindness and wisdom at every turn, and the custom of "morning brandy" which I will never do again in my life, especially before walking 25k lol. Taj & Ardith, a brother and sister who embody the spirit of the camino. Those of you who are familiar with the trail should know the emergency shack at the top of the high road from St. Jean. They spent the night there. Ardith pushed herself until a doctor told her she couldn't anymore, she is such a strong person, and had a permanent smile at the end of every day. Taj is capturing photos of the camino that make his trip appear to be straight out of national geographic & he's rocking 25-30k now. And Tom, our dearest Tom. Like a phantom he comes and goes from our camino, and it is always Christmas to see him. We lost him in Los Arcos & recollected him 5 days later. We lost him again and then in the city of Burgos I recognized him sans backpack by the back of his head. A man of few words and many thoughts. The type who saves his words for profound or hilarious proclamations. We are glad to know and have met them all. 

We have had guest appearances as well. While walking with Tom, Anto and Roly we came across a little stand with a seasoned pilgrim (10 caminos+) who awaited passing pilgrims in order to give advice. Here we met Carlos for the first time. 

As Roly translated the conversation Carlos was having with the wise pilgrim it became apparent we were English. Carlos flashed us a trademark smile and a quick English greeting. Our paths connected for the next couple of days and as we had separated from Anto & Graham (who had to book it to Burgos) we eventually became adopted by Carlos and the group of Italians he was travelling with. Carlos, from Barcelona is hard to define. The duality. He is part spirited youth from the Spanish urban music scene and part hopeless wanderer like ourselves. 

Like many on the camino, he has a greater perspective of the world than the world can accommodate, but I am confident he will one day find where he is going.

We drunkenly stumbled to Burgos with our band of Italians until a) Carlos had to return home and b) Natasha was nearly kidnapped and shipped off to Italy via shotgun wedding by an admirer.

The beginning of the Meseta after Burgos was a struggle for me. 

I have not had a decent waist strap since the beginning and have walked all but four days in my crocs. Then I got sick. 2 days after I'd walked with a fever, one of my shoulder straps had torn and been refastened in a knot, and I walked through the bottom of my crocs. Until this point we had missed only 5km of camino. I struggled to put my hiking shoes on over blisters and when the tears came Natasha said enough was enough, we could skip forward as my need for equipment was no longer negotiable. 

I am grateful for her, for reassuring me and not having any animosity towards me for needing to taxi ahead. She has been strong from the start and I know she'd have had no problem doing the entire Meseta.

So flash forward to Sahagun.

We find Kurt again! Kurt our dear friend we met in the first town after Burgos who shares our love for music and disdain for mucous (we all have the same cold). Kurt from SLO California, Kurt the washboard player & drummer from the Mother Corn Shuckers. Kurt, our angel of the desert, who came singing down the path in the middle of no where (as we sought shelter from a urine soaked bush) and gave us positive mojo we needed to knock out a 25km day. Kurt who has such a lust for life he said himself he needs at least 450 years to get everything done. 

Kurt who we vow to visit on his birthday in Cali.

As we lunch with Kurt we learn they're running the bulls in Sahagun that evening. 

 As we choose our viewpoints along the streets of Sahagun our Canadian headbands get us some attention. 

Juanjo, standing in the street dressed in the colors of his neighbourhood (as is customary during this festival) strikes up a conversation with us in English and encourages our group to follow him to a better viewpoint. 

So we do, and we watch the bulls run the streets of Sahagun.  Then Juanjo beckons us to follow him into the plaza the bulls of run to. So we join his neighbourhood in the stands and watch the civilians in the pit try their luck with various bulls. 

Don't ask me what was in the water, but an hour later, Natasha is in the bull pen. I wish I'd had enough use of my legs to join her lol.

Juanjo asks us where we head to in the morning. We say Leon as I need new shoes and a new backpack. Juanjo is from Leon and tells us to meet him at the cathedral at 2pm and he will show us the city.

Does he ever.

At two PM a sharply dressed Juanjo meets us in the square and takes us to his car, which is of course an Audi.

He takes us to lunch and shows us the interior of a luxury hotel that used to be a jail, complete with a display of ancient roman tombstones. & then we're off to the countryside to spend the rest of the day touring vineyards, Oruja (May have spelled that wrong) and cider factories, all of which were closed but elected to open their doors for the Canadian peregrinas. 

That night over dinner Juanjo asks if we'd like to join him in Grijon as he has work to do in Astoria (a gorgeous coastal mountain area north of Leon). For the record, Juanjo is a livestock geneticist who knows virtually every cattle farmer in a 300km radius of Leon through a company called World Wide Sires (we have toques).  So off we go for a rest day in Grijon. Which turns out to be a paradise. 

Juanjo is a remarkable individual. Look up "host" and you will see his picture. He threw us the keys to his beach apartment and went about his business. 

We eventually had to implore the importance of returning to the camino as we are pretty sure he would have let us stay with him forever. Juanjo our dear friend we are so thankful for all of your kindness. 

So here we are, awaiting the next chapter of this surreal experience.

BUEN CAMINO PERGRINO (not sarcastic at all)

Okay first things first:  MARK AND ALLISON:  We snapped some pictures for you guys, but are without access to a computer with an SD slot for upload.  Tangent topic in the interim, just caught up with your blog and I am so impressed!! The camino takes it's toll and you guys are rocking it!  So pleased to run into y'all yesterday.  Happy adventuring!

Secondly, to our followers, we are alive and roasted.  The nuns of whatever town we are in have opened their doors to us and segregated men from women.  Des and I were only too happy to have the separation. 

We are still hating the heat, though today and tomorrow are cooler than the previous days.  We tip along, often finding solice in our music.  I sing.  Des records me... Which is scary.

We have met a semi famous Spanish musician, he's currently serenading the plaza loungers.  This guy is a delight, his English is comparable to my Spanish.  Somehow we all communicate, I think that's the fun about the camino.  Even if you don't understand the words you manage to connect with the people around you.  Today we shared our dislike for the well wishing between peers.  Most days there is nothing buen about the camino, we are sore, tired, hot, and over it, 'buen cussing camino!' And yet, day after day, person after person I utter this phrase, it's become habit, maybe in part because I hope their day isn't as shity as mine, or maybe deep down it's funny to say good way even when I know it's not. In the end the walk is worth it, you check in and are ever so content to start again. I compared it to a drawn out labor (I'm not a mother but it's a theory) you go through so cussing much and then when it's over you think wow this is incredible, I could totally do that again.  It could be I have heatstroke and sound loco.  I've embraced my insanity, and my space-case mannerism.

Des continues to impress me with her strength, she may not like this but I'm going to describe a situation that leaves me speechless.  I put her (falling apart) pack on the other day, she had a fever (I didn't tell her about until we found an albergue) and her feet are wrecked so I thought maybe I could help.  It took only ten minutes before my body started aching in ways I've never felt.  I shifted and explained to her that I had no idea how she had made it as long as she had.  I would have quit in the mountains.  We both agree she needs a new pack, I run on the theory that her ailments are in a large part because of her pack.  Today as we wander around town realizing there's no option for new she remarks, so [enter name of next town] (I have no idea where I am) in the morning, it's only 14(?) kilometers.  All I can say is wow.  We are both ill, I contemplated jumping off an overpass yesterday and she's all well can't get a new pack may as well carry on.  Strength.  5:30 am and a brisk jaunt to the next town which certainly will not sell backpacks.  I suppose at this point what choice do we have.  Where's my Prince Charming with my damned horse?

An ode to Einstein

Okay friends, I'll be honest, I nearly went home in Burgos.  Save for the help a dear friend I don't think I could have pulled through.  The good news is I put my big girl panties on and kept on walking.  Des and I have both reached this point and incidentally both swore we were done in Burgos.  Yet here we be.  27km trekked today and we're better than ever.  We have entered the Meseta and short of temper tantrums over bugs and lack of shade we are rocking it.

My thoughts today were mostly focused on leaving my rocks at the cross.  I reflected on the miles and my aches.  How every step hurting meant I was Camino-ing right (in my own mind; each camino is personal).  I fought internally struggled physically and kept on going.  I bit my tongue, I held back my frustration and I took a step and then another.  I looked to the ground; left foot, right foot, and so on.

Looking back at the kilometers travelled, the trials we've survived and the breaking points we have weather I thought about a camino peer of ours.  We call him Einstein for his intellect and characteristic guise.  This man has been with us since day one, what's more is that he is pushing 70 years of age and shuffle steps along with a pack I'm certain weighs more than me.  The significance of Einstein is that despite his aches, his well lived life and surrendering youth HE STILL KEEPS UP WITH US!  He's my hero.  He's my momentum.  There are so many you meet along the way struggling in some facet of life or another, I summarize my time here as a calibration of mind body and soul.  Each one of us with weight on our shoulders, some driving force and heavy hearts.  The community is drawn together with the ailments and the remedies.  I've taken pills from strangers a couple times, which would be alarming back home but here along the way it's just one member to another trying to help.  We pat each other on the back, we cry into the shoulders of virtual strangers we embrace like family because no one really gets it like your fellow perrigringos.  If I could say one thing about this trip and I in fact I did say it today:  I WAY UNDERESTIMATED THE CAMINO.

My advice to those out there, surfing blogs and planning their trips, the things I wish I knew.  You can't prepare for this adventure, and it will suck.  Somedays will feel like the worst of your life. You need the people along the way.  This is not about solitude.  The camino will break you, but not destroy you.  Quite alarmingly it will empower you.  Nothing (certainly not the damned guidebooks) can offer you insight.  Start walking, try to put togeher into words how you feel, I dare you.

What I've learned on the camino so far

1. Bathrooms can be rated on a 1-5 scale in terms of their inventory, which may or may or not include: toilet paper, a seat, a lock, a light, more than 2x3 feet of space.

2. Never before this journey did I know what physical fatigue felt like.

3. I hate Germans. (Tom who is German said this so we asked why) They are negative and unrelaxed and way too strict.

4. Roly says: If you're going to do the camino don't be negative. Be prepared for absolutely everything that you could be prepared for on a socialogical scale because people will test you. We have a companion who snores and two pilgrims began complaining about his snoring in their €5 room. They were complaining in Spanish and Roly confronted them, so I'll repeat the advice he gave the pilgrims. Bring fucking ear plugs or shut the fuck up (he was nicer about it).

5. Italians give all of their emotion to the extreme. Anger, love, sadness. -

6. Even pilgrims can be stuck up bitches - look up the word pilgrim for me please.

7. Don't be afraid to check out albergues before you agree to stay there.

8. Don't take advantage of people that have money, and appreciate all generosity.

9. Duct tape

10. Be wary of strange priests.

11. "Can you quote me?" Yes "Um, damn it come back to me I can't remember" "ok ok, I remember" - this wasn't worth quoting lol

12. Showers are a blessed thing

13. Be thankful of the time you get to spend with the good people in your many camino families because they can separate over night.

Your own camino

6 months ago I was browsing blogs like this one to try to prepare for my own camino.

Don't do that.

The entire point of the camino is that it is in no way relatable to anyone else's.

I have a sleeping bag. Many do not. We landed in Madrid. Many did not. I have waterproof hiking shoes but am on day 3 of wearing knock off crocs, one of my travelling partners is in sandals and has been the whole time.

Reading online forums gave me such a negative stigma towards anyone who has their pack transferred or submits to needing to jump into a vehicle at some point or another.  Yesterday we took a high road and backtracked into the town we thought we'd stay in. At 4pm we arrived and the entire town was full, no hotels and there was a storm threatening. The next town was 10km away and we had to take a taxi.  Our group is young and in good shape and everyone one of them were nearly in tears (or was in tears) as we floated effortlessly in a taxi over kilometres we have become so accustomed to conquering on foot.  During this low, I was feeling a moment of elation as I watched the emotions around me.  When we struggle and moan all day, begging the universe for the next town to appear around the next corner we lose sight of exactly how much this "walking" means to all of us in our own ways. You can't do a camino wrong.  You can't f#ck up your camino.  It is about the victories, the defeats, the acquiring of new friends and the separation of our walking companions.  I have felt these voids before and know in my heart that without them you have no capacity -or appreciation- to refill those voids. 

So many people see their hearts as a container that they fill throughout their lives. I like to think of it more as a waterfall, sometimes the water is so low that you feel it may run out completely, but new sources ( and experiences in life) raise it again and all remains connected.

Plan as little as you can for your own camino and start slow.  Every day is a mountain, every day requires it's own strength, but that is the point of this journey.

Ramble on.

Defeated Perrogringos

Oh my lanta.

Today started brilliantly, we hopped along the path towards our destination, our Commander was courteously accommodating of our (the packs) pace, and we as a group attempted to make good time.  At a fork in the road we had decided last night to spring for adventure and travel the off the charts route to a wonderful town all for the sake of scenery.  That's where things began to unravel.  The path was well worth it mind you.  A nice slow incline and breathtaking views.  Some of the soldiers wobbled along nicely regardless of their cringeworthy ailments.  We sang and laughed and only breaked periodically.

After a double lunch (all Des and I do is eat haha) we sprang up and began our trek to a crossing in hopes of doubling back to a city behind us.  Now.  This city will forever be known as the traveling city.  I swear it changed locations.  We doubled alright, we doubled back at least 4km.  It was defeating.  My spirit was curshed as we trudged along a path beaten so well by pilgrims walking opposite.  As the path extended and I thought about each step we were taking only to walk them again the next day I began to lose my stability.

To add insult to injury we finally arrived only to hear the town was full.  That's right not a single bed for us tired perrigringos.  I assure you, you could hear our hearts break.  We contemplated camping though there weren't enough tents and it's against regulations, we all kind of slumped and bit the bullet; we had to call a taxi.  There's a storm on it's way, wind that could suffocate you with dust and no where to go.  We had to cheat.

I cried.  We got out of the taxi in a town 10km away and I asked Des for a hug.  My camino was broken, incomplete and cheated.  My family all stood patiently as Des reassure me and then something remarkable happened.  I got three hugs and a group hug (at this point it's important to note I haven't showered nor washed my clothes in a couple days, and we were all dirty and sweaty but these virtual strangers embraced me like we have known each other our entire lives) these people are my life support.  It's hard for me to move passed missing kilometers as I lay in my bunk.  I guess I have to return now, but that's another story.

We somberly find our way well The Way and stumble into a town square where upon random conversation discover the municipal albergue is full.  Shit.  That's not promising at all.  We continue wondering empty hearted to another.  It's  full.  Now I tell you, we must have looked some kind of awful because this saintly man patiently walked us through the following moments, he gave us beds that had been reserved and brought some light to our terror.  We must have been a lot to see because he even specified a location for dinner that was sure to brighten our souls.

Now some are returning from mass, our bellies are full and we are all feeling back to normal.  It has been a physically challenging experience thus far and truth be told we all agree, this mental exhaust was a welcome day along the way.  We realized how lucky we've been and how lucky we are.  It's brought a beautiful appreciation to our camino family.

It just occured to me.  This day could have been a result of the morning brandy we sipped after breakfast.

Spain.  You may be the death of me.

Si señorita princess, sounds a little rapey! Especially when you're naked.

So we are in Pamplona. We would like to update more on the past towns but our current situation leaves this incomprehensible. We will start the story of this journey three quarters of the way between Zubiri and where we have currently arrived in Pamplona.

After our ordeal over the high road, crossing the Pyrenees mountains, we decided to reward ourselves with a nice hotel. We had booked a room in a town just east of Pamplona and were not entirely confident on our ability to find it.  

Cut to us standing with Graham, our Irish guidebook, at a map beside a highway where he assured us that if we split from the camino & stayed with the road we would find our way.  

For your own reference if you ever come to Spain keep in mind that it does not "sidewalk" unless of course you are Natasha's parents reading this and in that case there were Spanish policemen on horseback making sure that we were safe every point of the way.

Around 2.5 km further in I approached a Spanish policeman who spoke no English and eventually managed to confirm that we were headed in the direction of the hotel that was next to the golf course, this involving a very animated sort of charade for "golf" - pretty sure we made his day.

Long story short we found our hotel which is a castle, on top of a hill which we climbed from the wrong direction through a park...had to get directions from one of their maintenance men who we are pretty sure thought  that we were probably dirty homeless people that were going to try to rob the place. 

For anyone on our Facebook participating in the "guess how we smelled when we arrived" contest - the answer is rotten nachos and old towels.  

After we spent approximately 10 minutes figuring out how to a) open the door with the fancy card and then b) use the fancy card to get the lights to work we immediately fell to our knees in praise of the heavenly basin most of you would call a bathtub. 

We cannot begin to explain the luxury that is a private room with no noise and no smell and no snorring and no drunken people of a different language - although we have learned to love that, we are very appreciative of the treat we have given ourselves.  

Now we are drunk after too much food and are both appreciating being naked in our own beds with no one else around us, squeaky clean and "soft" as Natasha put it earlier, not realizing that soft was an adjective that was both desirable and something you could describe yourself with after being filthy for days upon days.

It is 9pm & it is our bed time.

We are used to breakfast being served at seven (on the road at eight, if not sooner). Tomorrow there is an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet on until 10 AM. We are very excited at the perspective of challenging what they believe is all-you-can-eat buffet. It turns out that after wearing the same pants for four days at a time they stretchout so Natasha has given herself a personal challenge to make her pants fit again. Natasha's inner battle with her exterior form has been an entertaining one to witness. At around 10 o'clock this morning I found her lecturing her boobs so that they do not shrink on her (seasoned pilgrims have put this fear into her heart). She's here to gain an ass, not lose her boobs. We are hoping to reconvene with the rest of our Camino family tomorrow but until then here are some random pictures of the happiness we felt outside of the drunkenness and luxury of tonight.

We're like toddlers really.

Okay just a quick post for you all:

We have endured more than I think either of us had anticipated; I've suffered mad jet leg induced psychosis, Des has suffered my hangry bitchiness.

The mountains were hard.  There was a hut with a fireplace, my fingers were too cold to rip paper and work the lighter.  There was hail.  In fact hail is almost more welcome than rain.

Ronsay... Something was lovely, I accosted an Italian in the men's washroom.  Accidentally.  Then Des befriended him further along the way, so that's helpful.  At least she tolerated my whining.  Woo girls woo!

Zubiri is heavenly, we are exhausted.  I think Des was almost drunk.  Usually we just eat a lot and try to sleep while the older people party.  Our new version of a good time is soup and a hot shower.

It's vague and lacking detail (and photographic evidence) but I'm tired and still really whiney if I'm to be honest so, stay tuned for Des's post.  She's good at this.

Much love!

The hail wasn't big though was it? *gestures loonie size* Superb

We are in St. Jean Pied de Port & either the person who did the online forecast I saw a week ago was drunk or is a filthy trickster. 

Cue Monsoon. Just kidding! Look sunshine! Better get your sunglasses! Haha, gotcha again - Cue monsoon.

So we're hoping the local weather forecast doesn't know what it's talking about and that the weather tomorrow is decent. Thank-you mom 1000x over for the gloves.

At any rate though, St. Jean is beautiful.

Wow sunshine! Just kidding.

We arrived at 10am but our auberge didn't open until 2:30, so we wandered.

Found an amazing little shop with delicious dried sausage & baguettes that we decided would make sense as backpack food. 

We also found a little grocery store where we got some dried fruit & nuts.  For the record Natasha & I both weighed in around 17 lbs. for our packs and we're staying pretty close to that. 

At this point we are relaxing at the auberge awaiting dinner. We are staying at the Auberge de Pelerin and so far it's quite nice.

 

Last night Istvan, the owner of Corazona es Pures in ¿Biakaretta?, picked us up in Pamplona & we spent the night with him and his wife. They were amazing and our dinner there was exquisite. You must stay with them if you are planning a camino. I just realized I hadn't mentioned them & that that was unacceptable. Although I have kicked the flow of my post in the shins, I shall now continue with the current situation:

There's a sign that says no washing laundry in the sinks in the washroom, so I took a fake shower and washed some clothes.  They don't seem much cleaner but they are wet now. I have my shirt dripping into a croc so that I don't make a mess. My socks now smell like apple mango tango gain and hockey equipment. *half self five* 

Our next updates will be post Pyrenees, wish us luck!

Oh & also Madrid:

PS - seeing as you've gotten this far and appear to be an avid reader, I shall reward you with the best moment of today.

Natasha has wanted to yoga since we got here on the 20th, but has not had enough privacy. She realized she had enough space in our room so she commenced her stretching. As she initiated "bum-facing-door downward dog", there was a serendipitous door opening followed by a fit of French man-giggling. Enter Manu - our new cyclist room mate.