Day: 21 September 2016

Should this be Day 2, since most of yesterday was travel, so really should be called Day Zero?  Things that keep you awake at night.  Last night only the biological clock interfered with sleep, and that only slightly.

Today was largely spent on housekeeping – like getting a SIM card for the phone.  Apparently there is only one place in St. Jean that sells them – a computer store that retails thumb drives for $48, as an example.  It turns out (we think) that they only sell the card itself- you have to go to the ‘tabac’ to buy the data for it.  Which is on the other side of town, essentially.  The ‘tabac’ lady is quite happy to take your money, but you ‘have to go back to the card store’ to ‘ have them make an adjustment to your phone’.  Back at the computer store she said it is all as it should  be.  But we still cannot connect to the internet.  This was all so easy in Italy.  Tomorrow after our walk we can pick which of these ladies to annoy first.  The Canadian cell phone rates may be high, but when you walk out of the store, it works.

The weather is looking good for tomorrow’s walk – this morning had a high fog that quickly burned off, leaving a clear warm day.

The first day was really a travel day, but what can you say about a succession of flights and bus rides?  The microwave gourmet food and a large collection of second run obscure movies on Air Canada?  Not much.  However, I was fortunate to be able to share my allotted 17-3/8 inches of seat with a very large lady who overflowed the armrests even BEFORE she  donned a heavy wool overcoat for the remainder of the flight.

Heathrow and Gatwick both allowed us plenty of walking practice between the check in and the gates.  Getting to the bus depot at Heathrow required finding the special set of elevators that took you to floor -1 (that’s ‘minus one’ – what is this – Hogworts?).

At Gatwick we began to see the first evidences of the Camino – small groups wearing factory creased walking pants and shiny new walking boots.

Our final transport from Biarritz to St. Jean simplified that particular leg, and gave Vic french language practice.

The final crisis came at our pre-booked hotel in St. Jean.  It turned out to be a B&B, locked tight and with nobody around.  After a day of travelling with jet lag and no sleep we were not happy campers on their doorstep.  After a lot of pounding and doorbell ringing, and few fruitless phone calls and texts, I walked into town to try the (now closed, as it turned out) tourist office for help.  While I was gone, the situation resolved itself – the landlady returned, and the landlord (I think)  woke up from his nap.

A good meal, a jug of wine, and a night’s sleep has made everything right again.