DAY TWO – 17th May – At Orisson
P in a reflective mood in the open air restaurant at Orisson.
Nothing quite divided opinion as our stay at Orisson. I thought the location sublime. The photo does not justice to the beauty of the hills and mountains that separate or try to separate France from Spain. On walking these marvellous mountains one can see the logic of the Pyrenees being one Province, or Kingdom (of Navarre/Navarra, as it was) without the artificial national border-lines drawn across its lovely hills.
Supper was served at 6.30pm to the entire community. Vegetable soup, followed by some sort of meat and beans, finished off with the most wonderful almond tart that was freshly baked. After dinner we were invited to say who we were and why we were walking the camino. We felt as if we were back in the boy scouts. Which was odd. I had never been in the boy scouts. We met two pilgrims from Ontario Canada who had married two sisters, the O Connors who hailed from Dun Laoghaire – two of a family of seven girls who emigrated to Canada thirty years past.
The overflow of pilgrims was catered for by a tented village behind the main building. Our roommate was an unfortunate German whose face said it all when we invaded his space while he was enjoying his siesta.
For a second night in a row it was lights out at 10.00 pm despite Barry’s best efforts to get some additional wine and start a party
Nothing quite divided opinion as our stay at Orisson. I thought the location sublime. The photo does not justice to the beauty of the hills and mountains that separate or try to separate France from Spain. On walking these marvellous mountains one can see the logic of the Pyrenees being one Province, or Kingdom (of Navarre/Navarra, as it was) without the artificial national border-lines drawn across its lovely hills.
Supper was served at 6.30pm to the entire community. Vegetable soup, followed by some sort of meat and beans, finished off with the most wonderful almond tart that was freshly baked. After dinner we were invited to say who we were and why we were walking the camino. We felt as if we were back in the boy scouts. Which was odd. I had never been in the boy scouts. We met two pilgrims from Ontario Canada who had married two sisters, the O Connors who hailed from Dun Laoghaire – two of a family of seven girls who emigrated to Canada thirty years past.
The overflow of pilgrims was catered for by a tented village behind the main building. Our roommate was an unfortunate German whose face said it all when we invaded his space while he was enjoying his siesta.
For a second night in a row it was lights out at 10.00 pm despite Barry’s best efforts to get some additional wine and start a party
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