At 5:30 people started getting up, the freaks. Many start their pilgrimage to Santiago here. That means immediately kilometers uphill on steep, muddy trails in the mist and fog. An Irish man with long matted braids, had come hitch hiking from Ireland, through Wales, England and France, to continue now approximately 700 km. walking to Santiago. Also another group of Koreans, a Colombian and the rest I don’t know. Saint Jean Pied de Port is a nice old town, with a citadel. A kind of Valkenburg ( Nl), only now empty. Nowhere wifi, almost all closed. The bookstore could not find a book of my route and the office de tourisme was closed at 6.30 p.m. Fortunately, Constance had walked this route before, so she knows everything. At 8 am. this morning we waved Jan goodbye. Leon was removed from his pasture at a private house.Tosca, who was allowed to sleep inside the hall, elated and we were heading for Ostabat, 21 km., or rather to Saint Palais, 31 km. A usually good, sometimes muddy path, in mild weather, 11 gr. C., we arrived in the hamlet of Ostabat. Con and I discussed the mutual life’s situations, backgrounds, because we hardly knew each other. Obviously this was very enjoyable and also this time: no hurry! The route progressed without us being aware of it. Lovely, lovely scenery, lots of sheep from a breed called Manech, that resembled exactly our regional Dutch rare Mergelland sheep. We also saw many sheep that resembled exactly the German Lüneburg Heidschnucke sheep, and proved to be a similar Basque variant of this ancient German sheep breed. Fortunately I saw few sheep of the popular modern fat races that are only products for economic efficiency. Sheep are a hobby of mine, however.
Meanwhile, it was starting to rain. In Ostabat we dashed into the first cafe we encountered. Con had been here before once again. The hostal was closed. The good hostess has been searching at least one hour for us, calling everywhere. Everywhere everything was closed. The place where we wanted to go, Saint Palais, was 10 km. from here. It started getting a little late. Isn’t it possible to stay with you? Our hostess disappeared a long time, from which we concluded that she was in conclave with husband and daughter. Meanwhile, some 40 people entered the cafeteria, dressed up in suit with crevat (tie) and kamezol (vest), accompanied by an older couple, equally chic dressed. I’m getting married, one of the men said. Us: we hope you do not regret. Can you dance? Only if I have boozed, he said. Photo on the blog,: one can see in the picture that the groom is standing next to the most beautiful woman, Constance, while I am next to the second most beautiful, the daughter of the hostess. It accidently happened to turn out this way! Moments later the nervous groom went outside. Con reassured him: you are not the first person to get married, though. You will be fine (or not, I thought). Con reminds me of the midwife in begone days, telling the stressed women in labour: Come on, hang on, Napoleon’s entire army was born this way! With marriadge the same: it’s a natural thing. I just came back from where I had tied the horse to a tree at a grassy place. And then I saw the phenomenon: busty, just like the rest of her curvaceous body, all in white and toute nerveuse. I thought, let’s try to make a selfie with her for the blog. But I was filthy from the horse, wet mud and stinking because of that some days old rabbit cadaver for the dog and she was probably washed for the occasion and in any case virginal white and nervous. While I doubted she disappeared into a car and … Too late. Oeuf ( beefhead) that’s what I am. Some of us speculated: does this guy start his second nest? People of my age might think: a must wedding? Judging by her front I would think so.
Con told about an experience in Wallonia, where she once, like a drowned cat, somewhere asked for shelter. And not in vain. When Con thanked the good giver, the French speaking Walloon quoted the following saying of Mother Theresa: on n’accomplit jamais de grandes choses, seulement the petites choses avec un grand amour: one never achieves great things, but often small things with a big heart . Well then, alors hein! Likewise, so our hostess. We were allowed to stay in her home. So she performed something big with a big heart. The lager beer was brought to us by the Basque grandmother. And soon we may share in eating. Voila, one gets what one deserves. Tosca is located in a semi-open pantry and enjoys her last, by now smelling, rabbit carcass.
The address for tomorrow for us and for the two filmmakers who will come tomorrow from the Netherlands, has also been arranged. We explained our landlady of tomorrow about the marital status of the four of us. Why this whining? She has only three beds. Then Con will simply sleep on the ground. Guys, life is good (if everything is settled).
C and I sat down the two of us – and we were alone in the inn, a burning stove , food. In the entire village no wifi , so again no blog. Conversation topic : What do grandparents do at Christmas ? Do we have to feel like the ox and the donkey for two nights ? And then my animals have to wait outside somewhere for 48 hours ? Tomorrow I will try to arrange some shelter for Christmas. Perhaps better just walking on like a live nativity scene .
Now while everybody has paid 10 E for Mama Alice watch the proof that the animals have reached the frontier
With the animals I actually mean ourselves: this and next pictures 
Our Dutch Mergelland Sheep are not as unique as we thought. Here exactly identical sheep, called Manech 
Even lambs with the typical Mergelland dark neck spot and tail spot “Our Dutch Mergelland Sheep are not as unique as we thought. Here exactly identical sheep.
forecoming wedding 
Constance and me with the groom and the landlady and her daughter
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