France. Path Santiago de Compostela – Toulouse, France – Tourist Blog

In this note I want to share my impressions of Santiago’s path, the first stage of which is 600 km from the upper Loire to G. Lourda – I was passed by me last year. In May, I continued the path from Lourdes towards Spain, but not a standard route (through Saint-Jean-Pie de Por), but through the Saint Pall.

May 30 Asson – Arudy (19 km)

Department for which I now hold the way – Atlantic Pyrene. How can you guess from the name, the mountains are very close, but the locality is still almost even. Low Bald Hills, Green Pastures, Cows.

Local breed is called "Pyrenean Blonde". Like the Hollywood blondes, the life of these burenoks is still a gorgeous. Not more than a dozen individuals on a huge meadow with a high juicy grass ..

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By 6 o’clock in the evening came for the night in the village of Arudi. Knocked in the house to the local priest, which was generally greeted and wrapped in a separate room. Places on Santiago’s way, where you can spend the night for free (donativo – contribution if possible) – Break. For dinner we were together with Father Pierre. True, that he is a priest, in appearance I would never guessed, and the conversation we had quite household. I note the recipe for a cold Spanish soup with crops. Preparing quickly and taste original. Pierre explained in detail where I keep the way to keep the way and where you can spend the night tomorrow. Thank God!

May 31 Stage: Arudi – Sarrannce (26 km)

The first 18 km of the way were remembered by an excellent asphalt. The road passed through several cute villages, and the last 5 km is the most fabulous section of the road: a forest path, repeating the bends of the mountain river, crystal clear water – all this fascinated, and I enjoyed every step. I could watch for hours on one of the dugs or contemplate whirlpool.

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Road in Pyreney

Of course I could not resist bathing (in the place where it for some reason is forbidden). Although this, in general, is not surprising, because the law of the admission of the French system: "It is forbidden for your security" so protects the owner of this area of ​​the river from criminal liability, in case someone gets up there to drown there.

And outwardly everything looks like care of the neighbor, turning at times of the framework of common sense and logic. So, for example, on the way with his own eyes, I saw stencils with the inscription "Bathing in this place is dangerous for life", installed on the side of the high-speed highway.

No hope for the official: there were a lot of tablets, and the river is only alone, you need to go to them somewhere, not to hang yourself in the bathroom.

By 6 o’clock came to Sarrannce (K). Ochchchen Cute village against the background of the peaceful mountain landscape. In the church, a priest approached me, and finding out where I and why came from, I got into the monastery for the night. The abode there is small – from constant keepers – just one monk (he is the priest). A few volunteers help him. The atmosphere is nasty, I really liked a friendly attitude towards pilgrims (we were only two that evening), and of course, a great dinner. Amazing also was the sincere interest of Pierre’s father to Orthodoxy. He knows the optical deserts and the great Russian saints.

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In the life of the monk of his order there are three main commandments: prayer, joint life in the fraternal community and hospitality. It seems to me the essence of what is called "serving God". The heart opens through it; In order to learn this and it is worth living, and not necessarily in the monastery.

France. Path Santiago de Compostela - Toulouse, France Blogs and travel notes of tourists in Toulouse

1.06. Stage: Sarrance – Bors (22 km)

At the beginning of the way, a few kilometers I enjoyed the path going along the transparent river asp. Then the indicative signs brought me to the asphalt. And although there were little cars on the road and around – the forest, to go on tar, always deadly hard for stop. Here still, fascinating with her thoughts, I turned not there on the fork for the village and found out about it only after 3 kilometers from one passerby. This mistake for some reason has taken me out of me, I was dissatisfied with myself because of a stupid time loss and strength. Stage today is short, but all the way it was the most difficult. The body loosened as soon as *********** Spirit. I was worth a big patience and perseverance so as not to surrender and continue.

There is a thin line between violence over yourself and effort will. I felt her at the moment when the body finally got out and could not go further. In order not to fall into despair from your own impotence, I decided to stay to rest, lowered my feet in the fountain and calmed down. I thought, but in general, not so bad was the extra hook: but I enjoyed the waterfall, and the view of the flower growing right from the cliff. The conflict is dried, and although the fatigue was still impressive, the support appeared inside, the force to go to the end, in which it would be, as if my life depended on it. Will wakes up when she subsides whining.

In the Borsa settled in Alberg for 13 euros and bought products in the Rustic Bar. In the same place, I drank beer in a hunt, after which I almost got lost on the way back on the only rustic street. Two pilgrims were shared with me that evening: Hans – 70-year-old German, who went to Santiago from Geneva, and French franc. With Hans, we met yesterday in the monastery of Sarranz. He caused universal respect for his feat when he said that life for him could end at any time, and he would like to have time to reach the compostel. I then thought about myself: "I would give me the Lord at the old age of the years of strength and health to die on the way, and not on the hospital bed".

2.06 Stage: Bors – Kanfran (23 km)

Today I had to move the border of France and Spain through SOMUP Passamp (height 1600 meters). At first I went for a long time on the asphalt, and then the road turned into the forest, from where it went to an open space with an exciting panorama of the mountains. And now, finally, the border. And it seems to be an externally landscape remained the same, the inner feeling of space has completely changed: it was another world. First of all, because they talked here in another language. He gradually penetrated the consciousness through the inscriptions on the signs, through the greetings of the oncoming cyclists (now instead of Bonzhur, they say Ola). We’ll have to communicate in Spanish, I’m glad to this, although he shy his modest knowledge in this language.

The first cultural shock is a phantom city on the border left by residents to better times with all infrastructure, modern houses, shopping galleries. Jumping shutters everywhere, but only the wind walks through the streets.

I snatched in a tent in the forest near the river. A thunderstorm broke out, raised the monstrous primitive horror from the depths of the soul before wildlife. At that moment, I never felt my defenselessness before the element. Although the tent was reliable, the fear of getting a zipper on my head or that a neighboring dry tree falls on me, or … it was trembling before the incomprehensible force, able to erase you from the face of the earth, and at the same time, so native and vulnerable, called to trust her. That night there were good conditions to learn to trust, touch your fear and transform him into love.

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