July 9, 2019 'Parles mieux!'
- crystalkolt
- Aug 2, 2021
- 9 min read
Updated: Aug 8, 2021
In the morning my small band of pilgrims decided on a plan that we would all head towards Nasbinal which was about 26 km away. Our first stop before our departure from Aumont Aubrac was a lovely bakery where we bought the typical morning breakfast of a delicious chocolate croissant. Breakfasts in France were most often a croissant and a cafe latte although I tried to purchase some cheese, fruit and trail mix to snack along the route throughout the day. I have to admit after a week or so I would eventually crave an egg or porridge but on July 9th I was more than happy to start the day with a chocolate croissant. La Lozere is the French district that my husband's family has roots in and it was lovely to slowly take my time walking through this region.
World War I dedication in Aumont. Many towns along our walk had statues dedicated to this war. It made me realize how real an event it was to the people in Europe. Growing up in Canada I'd been taught about its signifance globaly, the hardships and the tragedy inflicted on so many people, but having the opportunity to slowly walk in the steps of history made it all become so much more relavent.
I loved walking past wild panseys and this yellow plant that my walking partner Caroline had told me was used to make alcohol and was called 'Gentian' I took the photo of this plant to send to my friends Mary and Edgar Wright , local experts in all things botanical and sure enough they were able to track down what Caroline was trying to share with me about this interesting plant.
Caroline and I had decided to forward most of our supplies ahead again by using le Malle Poste. I had decided that I would take advantage of this convenience for only one more day because I did not want my body to get too much of a break from muscle building. Caroline's feet were terribly chewed up with blisters and she had abandoned her walking boots for walking with her socks and sandals. She never complained even when the odd pebble would sneak its way between her foot and her sandal. Caroline was a trouper! She was planning to walk on the Camino only for another day or two before she would have to head back home to Belgium so blistered feet simply became a nuissance rather than the huge issue it would have been to someone like myself who still had seven more weeks of walking ahead of me.
One of the first 'Camino' Shell Symbols that I saw. I remember seeing the remaining kilometres of 1,473 to Santiago and thinking that that was both impossible and a little affirming. I had understood that the mileage from Le Puy to Santiago was 1600km and yet some calculations report the walk from Le Puy to Santiago to be 1500km I had walked about 100km so far and so in my mind I decided to split the difference. I also tried not to worry too much about whether I could reach Santiago by September 1st at the rate that I was going. But there were many times as I was walking for hours on end that I would try to calculate how far I would need to get weekly to reach my goal. Also, because I was the only one in my group trying to walk to Santiago in one go I realized that I would have to carefully decide each day independently how far and where I would travel. On this day however I was delighted to walk with my gang towards Nasbinal, with a lighter pack and good company.
So when you walk with other people on the Camino you have to opporunity to see things with new perspective. My walking buddy's brother is a cattle farmer in Belgium and she loved each and every cow that we walked by taking dozens of photos of the cattle for her brother. My mother's brothers had been farmers and I had had many visits as a child to the family farm. Although we were the 'city slickers' of the family we loved visiting the Taras homestead. It was a magical world of kittens in the hayloft, eggs hidden in the chicken coop, grouchy roosters, sweet carrots right from the rich soil, warm milk from the cow, gentle horses in the barn, ghost stories from my Uncle Stanley and all of the family gossip. It wasn't until this moment as I was walking with Caroline who was reveling in the pastural scenery around us that I realized how much I missed visiting a farm. When taking this photo I had thought that I would take a photo of this cow in support of Caroline's enthusiasm. I am so glad that I did.
As I remember the many wonderful conversations that I had with Caroline while we walked on this day it surprises me a year later that our conversations were all in French. I have always loved the french language. It's unfortunate that my generation didn't have the opportunity to attend French Immersion school when we were children because I can see how easily my children can switch to French after a few weeks in France. That being said I am really proud at how well I actually did communicate while on the Camino. I grew up with basic french, took conversational french in University, participated in a two week french immersive retreat in University 35 years ealier and had married a Franco-Manitoban. I have dear memories of my husband and I cuddling together reading Le Comte de Monte Christo outloud to each other on the beach during our honeymoon in Saint Lucia (a beautiful island in the Carribean) until a couple from France in the next beach blanket announced, in a very french accent 'I wish people would not bastardize our language'. That possibly was a clue that there may be some 'impatience' towards people struggling with this language. That being said for the most part people were actually quite patient with me. Laure reminded me that 'Bonne journee' was good day instead of Good Journey, Fanny and Dylan tried to convince me that Montcuq should be said without the 'q' (although I think perhaps they were toying with me because Mon Cul, pronounce mon cu translates as 'my butt') and Caroline let me chatter away with her about the weather and the cows, and our farms and families and it is surprising to me now that it must have been all in French. It was a privilege that so few of us ever get... the opportunity of a month long emersion in another language. I had actually been practicing French and Spanish on Duolingo the year before leaving but in all honesty I kept getting distracted with life and I proved to be an inconsistent student.
Before leaving Aumont Aubrac news spread quickly from pilgrim to pilgrim that a bad storm was brewing along our route and that we should be prepared for the worst. Fortunately we really had very little rain and the walk was lovely.
Louis Dalle's childhood home - some of the interesting points of interest that might be seen along the Chemin de Saint Jacques.
Regularly pilgrims stop on the side of the path for a snack, some water and to check their feet. Even taking your feet out of your boots and socks for five minutes can make the difference between shortening your walk for the day or possibly ending your Camino and not reaching Santiago. I was constantly doing a body check. If there were any issues at all, especially with my feet, I would stop immediately to fix the problem.
Myself, Caroline, Andree- Ann, Sandrine, Fanny and Jean-Luc in Nasbinal
As the day progresses you may start with a group of people and eventually separate as the hours pass throughout the day to reunite at the end of the day. Some stop to eat or rest, some pick up the pace, some slack off, some stop to fix a problem and some explore a curiousity. After a number of hours I had separated from my group but before leaving Aumont Aubrac we had pre-booked the Gite where we would stay that evening and we had decided to make a communal meal together in the evening. I was excited about this. It is something you dream about when planning to walk the camino. It looks so ...well... communal. Happy faces enjoying wine and good food after a long walk through quaint villages in France. Caroline was meeting a friend at a lovely Gite called La Maison de Rosalie, the rest of us stayed at a more basic Gite that was part of an old Academie de St. Joseph called Le Gite Nada. http://www.nada-aubrac.com/contact.htm
After a few hours of walking on my own I somehow entered Nasbinal before everyone else. That astonishingly happened to me often. I certainly didn't walk faster than anyone else but I think my stops were short and sweet. When I walk the Camino again I hope that I will take a bit more time to rest during the day. There were a few times when I would see people cooling their feet in a stream or snoozing on the side of the path. I would consider it and then change my mind and keep going. I knew that even though it was really enticing to put my feet in a cool stream I might develop foot problems if my feet or socks were not completely dry once I continued walking, and twice when I rested on the side of a farmers field I developed blood red heat rash on the back side of my calves, so for the most part I kept walking stopping for little breaks here and there, especially in cool churches.
Leaving the farmers fields and approaching Nasbinals there were some striking art installations on the path to the town.
Once in town I could see on my Miam Miam Dodo app that I was close to the Gite where we were meeting but I simply could not find it. I did find the lovely St. Marie de Nasbinals Church, and not too far away found the Tourist Bureau with a very helpful attendant. I was given a map and pointed in the direction of the Gite Nada.
Walking in the direction that I was pointed towards led me to an old stone library which appeared to be exactly where the Gite Nada seemed to be on the map. A middle aged woman sat on the stoop of the stairs to the main entrance of the library. From the sidewalk I asked her whether this was La Gite Nada. She looked at me with disdain and said ' you are a tourist', I tried to explain that I am not really a tourist but am rather a pilgrim on the Camino and am simply looking for La Gite Nada. At least that was what I was trying to stammer out as best as I could in french. She started to get a little more upset and simply said ' Parles mieux!' translated as ' Speak better' I tried to make a joke about 'maybe in a few months but this is all I have right now'. I could tell she was not appreciating my humour and quickly extracted myself from the situation. I told her not to worry about a thing. That I would be just fine and I wished her a good day and kept walking... anywhere! After a few steps, and not wanting to waste those steps after walking for eight hours I stopped for a few seconds at the church again to think things through. Sure enough I realized that La GIte Nada was essentially directly behind the little library and had been out of sight from where I was standing during my conversation with the woman in front of the library. The proprietor wasn't there when I arrived but a few trekkers were in the GIte, opened the door for me and I soon figured out where I could drop off by backpack and head back into the city centre to find groceries for our communal meal.
One of the good choices that I had made before leaving Le Puy en Velay was to get a SIM Card while walking in France (giving me a French phone number as well). Sandrine, or Jean-Luc gave me a call to see if I had arrived in town and I was able to share that I had indeed and I was looking for food for the dinner. I found a little convenience grocery store next to the church and purchased local cheese, wine and supplies for a salad all which was a hit.
Although Caroline was not there we had a wonderful communal dinner which included young Dylan who was planning to walk to St Jean Pied du Port in two weeks, Fanny, Andree-Ann, Jean Luc, Sandrine, other pilgrims and the couple from Budapest who once again got us singing Ultreia.
I was given a room to myself which was heavenly and we had a lovely evening together.
My room in Le Gite Nada
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