Eyes hang from stems, zombie feet shuffle and fuggy mouth causing a gagging reflux (Brad only as Lea brushed several times); all thanks to our three flights, two trains and 40 sleepless hours. Our final train rolled into Bayonne at 11pm where the Hotel Cote Basque greeted our water-boarded bodies.
Morning saw us exploring grand Bayonne with its medieval streets and lorax like trees criss-crossing through out the the township. Our wandering took us up to Cathedral et Cloister where saints reigned down from stained glass windows and steeples raised to the heavens. We boarded our final bus and the realisation that the ‘Way of St James’ beckoned.
With our pilgrim passport embossed with its first stamp and our shell festooned to our backpacks, it was time to explore the walled town of St Jean Pied de Port. ‘The foot of the pass’ is the offical starting point of our sojourn and what a little gem she is. Picturesque houses huddle along the river spanned by a photogenic medieval bridge, a citadel whose fortifications twisted and brutal, erupt from the ground, spreading its tentacles outward to protect the the town from the marauding Spanish and to act as a raiding base for the French.
Each street oozes its own history and door frames adorn years that pre date white settlement in Australia; infact, decaying tombs fallings from their foundations tell stories of yesteryear, which to our eyes is hard to fathom. Each maze of streets supports artisans ranging from bread, chocolate, pastries to the famous La Fabrique De Macaroons, where delightful flavours such as lemon, chilli and coconut teased our tastebuds. The delicate tastes of ghe macaroons was soon stripped bare by our first pilgrim dinner that consisted of a salt water broth, chicken that was rejected by the Colonel Sanders himself and fries so over cooked that they looked like the toes of a 100 a day smoker.
Bon appetit!
Morning saw us exploring grand Bayonne with its medieval streets and lorax like trees criss-crossing through out the the township. Our wandering took us up to Cathedral et Cloister where saints reigned down from stained glass windows and steeples raised to the heavens. We boarded our final bus and the realisation that the ‘Way of St James’ beckoned.
With our pilgrim passport embossed with its first stamp and our shell festooned to our backpacks, it was time to explore the walled town of St Jean Pied de Port. ‘The foot of the pass’ is the offical starting point of our sojourn and what a little gem she is. Picturesque houses huddle along the river spanned by a photogenic medieval bridge, a citadel whose fortifications twisted and brutal, erupt from the ground, spreading its tentacles outward to protect the the town from the marauding Spanish and to act as a raiding base for the French.
Each street oozes its own history and door frames adorn years that pre date white settlement in Australia; infact, decaying tombs fallings from their foundations tell stories of yesteryear, which to our eyes is hard to fathom. Each maze of streets supports artisans ranging from bread, chocolate, pastries to the famous La Fabrique De Macaroons, where delightful flavours such as lemon, chilli and coconut teased our tastebuds. The delicate tastes of ghe macaroons was soon stripped bare by our first pilgrim dinner that consisted of a salt water broth, chicken that was rejected by the Colonel Sanders himself and fries so over cooked that they looked like the toes of a 100 a day smoker.
Bon appetit!
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