April 30: Je "parle" Francais (not)

We are fully powered by wifi again tonight!

Today was a day full of me “speaking” French, by which I mean massacring that beautiful language while various French people smiled at me encouragingly and then, devilishly, kept asking me questions, so that the torment would not end! Our hostess this morning was so relieved that “vous parlez francais” (a very generous assessment) that there was no stopping her. Then, this afternoon, we arrived at our hostel to find the hosts on the terrace, twenty minutes after closing for the afternoon. They snuck in a French couple who asked for coffee and gave us beer, before locking the door behind them and telling us to come back at 4pm. The French couple were local tourists and “fascinated” to grill us (meaning me) about our experiences of the region and on the camino. It was fun, gruelling, but fun – and they were very, very patient.

Apart from the language, it was a day of insects. An enormous matt-black beetle, with extravagant antennae ran past us on the road, a Sawyer beetle, per Google, very impressive and quite startling. Later, a Golden Carabus beetle zipped in front of us, like a gleaming animated rainbow. A large queen hornet, obviously choosing a nest site threatened us on a forest path. The trapeze-artist caterpillars were also evident. We both picked up a few hitchhikers along the way.

We think of ourselves as committed pilgrims (or perhaps pilgrims who should be committed), but today we were simply outmatched. We came up behind TRULY committed pilgrims: 2 parents, 5 children less than teenage (possibly 6 – there was a stray child further down the hill who seemed to have run ahead), 2 handcarts (being hauled over rocks and through ruts) and a donkey (led by the oldest child), with panniers. They were ALL IN. We could only give them respect.

The donkey also explains yesterday’s insect-related incidents. I came round the bend of a steep, rocky climb, sufficiently soon after what I assumed was a horse that its “leavings” (shall we call them?) were still VERY fresh. But not soon enough. They were already heaving with many, many flies. Cue a Hitchcock-esque mass of buzzing, angry flies starting up right in front of me, through which I had to walk. It was nasty. I turned round to warn Carey (who had missed the horror show), but he walked through unscathed. Maybe a kilometer later, I saw the same signs and veered off the trail to avoid disturbing the diners. I did warn Carey, but he innocently walked up to them, with the same Gothic effect. I was perplexed about how a horse could have got along such an uneven and narrow path. The donkey made it make sense (if not a “smoking gun” then at least a steaming pile).

We saw our first few poppies, but the red in the fields is from crimson clover and fruiting grasses. We also saw our first cornflowers today – very bucolic.