Why two nights? Not a lot to see, but the company who booked my accommodation was unable to find a place at my next destination. They came up with the idea that I could walk to the next place (Aroue) after the first night, then a Taxi would take me back to Navarrenx, to the Gite for the second evening and the next day take me to Aroue, where I had walked the previous day and start walking to the next place. Make sense? No? I thought not!

Anyway this strange arrangement proved a blessing and a joy. The contrast between the night in Bearn and the two nights in Navarrenx could not have been more starkly different and here is why:

The Gite, in Navarrenx does not open to pilgrims until 2.30. I arrived about 1.30 and so spent time sitting on a nearby park bench eating a stale sandwich, washed down with a can of coke. A little later, I was joined by an English couple, Lyn and Keith, who while consuming a cold quiche shared something of their journey. We exchanged contacts and they invited me to stay with them when I pass though England- such is the way of the Way.

So just after the appointed hour I went to the Gite and found about 7 women, and the odd man, divesting themselves of their backpacks, removing their boots, placing the necessary clothing and personal items they would need for the evening upstairs, (yes, the inevitable precarious wooded spiral stair case), in the various accommodation rooms- some four some six bed dormitories. The host explained to me that this was a necessary precaution against bed bugs that sometimes accompany the unwary pilgrim.

So, as I prepared to mount the stairs I was informed that I had a single room with a view and toilet?

My heart sank as I entered the room. Yes it was indeed a room with a view and overlooked the Main Street, but what wasn't said was that it was a two way view- I could see out and those outside could see in. There were no curtains.

As I adjusted to this reality, my heart hit the floor. Apart from one chair and a sink the only other piece of furniture, apart from the beds, was (what looked like) great grandpa's "thunder box". (See photos). A portable commode. It seemed that the renovations had not yet included the plumbing. "Hey"! I thought, "Rome, after all, was not built in a day and at least it would avoid the journey to the outside, somewhere in the middle of the night and the possibility of being bitten by a red back spider or whatever it's equivalent might be in this part of the world." Oh, and there were heavy shutters, not obvious on entry (you know the ones, on every window in France) so no curtains were necessary.

Peace of mind returned quickly, when over in another corner, I noticed a small door- it opened into an adequate shower and toilet.

All of that is an aside to the main story I would like to share.

After a shower and a saunter around the small, but once heavily fortified town - has there ever been a time when we humans have not been preparing for war, in the middle of one or recovering from another? I joined some fellow pilgrims for a drink and chat in one of the locals. During the course of the conversation one lass from Switzerland mentioned there was some sort of service in the other local establishment, not as frequently visited as the place where we were drinking.

As the bells sounded 6.00 the two of us made our way to the Church. In that short journey, as we chatted, I told her I was a priest, she told me she was a Protestant and a sometime participant in Church. I told her I why I was walking. And then we sat in the church to listen to a young, yes young, priest give a twenty-minute sermon, followed by a special blessing for pilgrims who made up most of the congregation. We were all then invited to another nearby building for biscuits, wine and a chat. It seems the young chap is trying to introduce some changes and this very traditional part of France, and this town in particular, are not so happy.

I should talk about long discourses- look at this one! And I have yet to arrive at the main point of the story.

Fast forward: all those staying at the Gite gathered in the large kitchen table, 13 in total, for the evening meal. Our hosts, our cooks and the owners of the place named Gite de Giraffe, Maria and Fabian were warm and welcoming. With great skill and enthusiasm, they gently orchestrated the conversation made up of a rich mixture of languages- German and French Swiss, German, English, with Fabian the master translator, but many of the guests were multi lingual. Not me or the Canadian couple. How embarrassing. The food was plain and nutritious, freshly cooked and served with a smile and accompanied with the local basic red and white wine.

I will write a short blog as promised about Nadine, the dancer, and Maglia (not the right spelling) and the German lady later.

The following evening, I was the only one from the previous night for reasons already explained.

It too was an exceptional night. There were only five guests one couple and two ladies of advanced years but veteran walkers. All spoke French so once again the talkative cook and host translated. The topics we covered were wide ranging and potentially dangerous, but Fabian as he cooked the fish and tossed the stir fry, managed well. The issue of racism surfaced. The husband, (partner?) spoke strongly of its presence in the area where he lived especially towards his partner- have you ever heard of La Reunion island? It's a French territory from way back and all its inhabitants are French but they look different(hello!). His partner, with her petite, oval faced, lightly coloured complexion and perfect French, has experienced discrimination and racism. At some point in the evening I told them who I was and why I was walking- Fabian carefully translated for me- the lass from la Reunion was deeply moved and as we took our leave from the table she embraced me with the double French kiss and again the next day as they left the Gite. She understood how Wilai feels. So one night in Bearn and two in Navarrenx could not have been more different- sterile magnificence one night and two nights of simple food, joyful engaging conversation and warm friendships forged. What a contrast.

Au revoir

Jim