Sitting beneath an ancient pilgrim, I thought about my morning walk out of Pamplona. I had gone for a coffee with Marcus and learnt that he would be unable to walk today. I was sad, as was looking forward to spending the time with him. I enjoyed meeting Nat and Kurian on the road. Within an hour I learnt that far too many serial killers had originated from Wisconsin, that Madison had the most restaurants per head of population of any city in the USA and that not everyone from the Mid West didn´t own a passport. Nat is one of the bravest pilgrims I have met, his determination to reach Santiago will enable him to overcome a number of physical problems.
Lying under that tree, the chitter chatter of song birds was brutally interupted a noisy column of masked storm trooper motorcyclists who headed off down the Camino.
Bastards
They were soon followed by a middle aged couple. I noticed that the man invited the woman to smell the plants and pointed at something up in a tree. I´m not sure if this was a first date or if they had been undertaking this walk for years. The bikers were soon forgotten
I later climbed a hill with Birgitte, a horse loving, singing dancing woman from the forests of North Jutland. On our descent we agreed that I would teach her Spanish and in return she would sing. When we pased a copse of cherry trees she sang Nor Kirseertaesne Blowstrer, a Danish song about the blosooming cherry tree and it´s tales of secret treasure. In return Birgette learnt how to count to three and the Spanish for drinkable water.
Later I found a lost paisley scarf on the way and jointly we decided that it belonged to a beautiful singing dancing, cooking, warm hearted woman from a small middle European country. In order to express her gratitiude for finding the scarf she would invite me to her town. When i arrived at the railway station, i was instructed to follow a trail of yellow chalk drawn arrows that would lead me to her door.
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