France and underpants

I should start by saying, as a therapist and human being, I am not one to cling to first impressions. It’s my profession to hear my inner dialogue about someone and at the same time continue to gather information before formulating hypothesises. With that being said, France upon first arrival sucks!
We just arrived via pleasant train ride followed by hellish bus ride in which others were puking as we rounded each switch back of the Pyrenees and were greeted by no one… Haha! It took a long time to find a place to stay, no one was helpful, and we were continually redirected to a kiosk for information. This was only startling because of our fabulous two days in Madrid where each meal became a generous language lesson and people were generally friendly.
So after waiting an hour and a half for a pizza and much debate, I convinced my loving hubby (and myself) to stay an extra night so that we have tomorrow to really get to see St. Jean Pied de Port. I mean not everyone is a jerk, right??
I mean, I’m trying my best to use my therapist skills here and see their context. Bus after bus and train after train bring a constant flow of eager pilgrims here. And most of them are rushed to get thier compostela, some food, and go to bed to start walking early.
So, France. I’ll give you one more day to prove that the fact that you rhyme with underpants is in fact a coincidence and not some form of warning about your sanitation.

Update day 2: I will be walking the first 25k so fast to get back to Spain, I may break some sort of record 🙂


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