Traveling

 

When I got to my seat, 18H, for my flight from Seattle to Amsterdam I was pleased to see that the ticketing agent hadn’t lied about it being an aisle seat.  I am somewhat fanatical about my walking and stretching schedule during long flights after my buddy got a DVT during his flight to Nepal.  I also like being able to go to the bathroom without having to climb over a fellow passenger.   However, I was not pleased to see that the passenger in the window seat had spread out his belongings onto my seat.  He was definitely not following airplane etiquette. 

“Umm, that is my seat.” I said pointing to his various travel accessories.

“When I selected my seat there wasn’t anyone sitting beside me.” He informed me.  He didn't move his stuff.

“Well sorry to disappoint.” I said and then held up my boarding pass as proof of my seat assignment.  “They assigned my seat just a few minutes ago at the gate.”

He looked annoyed as he gathered up his belongings off my seat.  

This has the potential to be a very long flight I thought as I sat down beside the man who was radiating with irritation. 

I was grateful that noise cancelling headphones had been a last minute addition to my pack.  I plugged in a listened to some music and blocked out both the airplane noise and the attitude in the seat next to me.   

And it was a long flight.  Is it ever easy to fly across an ocean?  I would like to test the first class seats someday to see if perhaps that would make trans Atlantic travel more pleasant.  I think perhaps it might.  Have you ever noticed that even the floor is softer in first class?  Seriously, even the carpeting underlay was more plush.  Talk about attention to details.  

Finally the plane landed in Amsterdam.  I love the Schipol airport.  It is so immaculate.  I almost feel that I could eat off the floors there.  Well, not really, but the whole airport just seems to sparkle.  The last time that I had been there was when I flew through on my way to climb Kilimanjaro with my mother for her 60th birthday.  I was reminded of that awesome adventure and began to look forward to my upcoming adventure. 

The flight from Amsterdam to Paris was uneventful.  Followed by an easy flight from Paris to Biarritz. 

Biarritz was the end of my planning.  I still needed to figure out how to get to St. Jean.   

A young couple wearing performance fabrics, backpacks and hiking boots were milling around the baggage claim area.  I almost walked away, determined to figure out things on my own but then I changed my mind approached them.  I figured safety in numbers and all that jazz.   

“Are you guys walking El Camino?” I asked.  I was 99% sure that the answer would be yes.  

“Yes” they replied.

Imagine my delight when I found out that they were fellow Canadians, their long vowels gave them away before they confirmed it, which I am told by default makes them "nice".   They actually were very friendly. 

Daniella, originally from Mexico and Mike, originally from Denmark, now both resided in Toronto.  They were going to be pilgrims for the next two weeks.  

"How are you getting to St. Jean?" I asked them. 

"We are going to take a taxi," they replied.   

I asked them if they would mind if I joined them and I could help split the fare.  While waiting in line at the taxi queue they commented on the small size of my backpack.  They were complaining that their packs were uncomfortable.  I helped them adjust their pack straps, and they seemed relieved and grateful after some pack fitting. 

The taxi was somewhat expensive.  130 Euro for the trip, but split between the three of us ended up being about 43 Euro to get to the start of El Camino.  I figured in the end that this was a good deal and it got me to St. Jean quickly.  

The taxi driver spoke very little English, basically none.  He spoke mostly French and a little bit of Spanish, which was helpful since Danielle could communicate with him.  I was in the front seat of the cab and I tried to ask the driver some basic questions.  The communication was very limited and halting, however I definitely understood that our taxi driver had 3 children and 2 grandchildren.  You could tell that he was proud of this fact.  He drove a taxi and I think that he talked about also working as a fisherman.  I tried to ask him if he had ever hiked El Camino.  I think that he said that he had to keep working for his children.  I think that he tried to tell me that his wife was dead, however I had no idea how to clarify that statement with my French vocabulary.  There was a certain sadness to the conversation that I detected however and then he summarized by saying “C’est la vie” at the end of his explanation. Everyone has an interesting story I thought.  I wanted to know his story more.  I quickly determined that my  completion of the first two chapters of Rosetta Stone was completely inadequate.  He talked about how Biarritz is a great place for surfing and he pointed out a river that we were driving along and said that this was popular for white water rafting.  Daniella asked him about the weather forecast in Spanish.  He said that the weather had been excellent recently and that it was supposed to continue.  “No rain.” He assured us.

When we arrived in St. Jean, the taxi driver dropped us off in the center of town.  Some of the side roads where the pilgrims hostels are were not accessible by car, but it was a very quick walk, only a couple of blocks from the drop point.  He wished us luck and I couldn’t believe that the stars had aligned and I was actually in St. Jean.  I had been so worried that I wasn’t going to be able to find anyone to share a taxi with and that I was going to have to get a hotel in Biarritz and then take the train the following morning, which would have been a huge hassle and resulted in a late start to the following day.

Daniella and Mike had made reservations at a hostel in advance.  I decided to see if there was any space for me.  In this I was not so lucky.  I was sent away.  I wandered around the town briefly and landed at the Albergue Perin.  For 17.5 Euro I had a bunk and a hot shower.  It was clean and everything that I needed.  I tiptoed around on the squeaky floorboards. Most of the other pilgrims were already there sleeping.

I was ready to sleep too, my eyes were dry and blood shot from all the travel, then start my adventure the next day.