A day off in Le Puy-en-Val

When checking in the night before, I asked the proprietor what time church services were in the morning and how long they lasted. My plan was to head up the hill about halfway through the service so I could see the conclusion, when they open a huge grate in the floor and all the pilgrims exit the church down a stairwell to begin their walk. 

I arrived at the church in time for the priest to ask, in French, where people were from. There were probably more than 200 people sitting in the pews, their backpacks and trekking poles lining the wall as they awaited the end of the service to start their Camino.

I'm being generous to myself when I say my French is mediocre. I only studied it in the 3rd through the 6th grade. But it was an immersion class, and it's amazing the things your brain soaks up when you are a child. So I understood when he asked people from Paris to raise their hands. There were dozens. Then he went down a long list of French cities and then asked about different provinces or areas not yet covered. Then he went down a list of other countries. They included Germany, about eight hands; Belgium, another six; and when he got to the United States, I was the only one with my hand in the air. 

This particular segment of the Camino is usually traveled mostly by the French, and they only do segments or spurs of it for a weekend, or maybe a weeklong getaway. The most popular portion of the trail is the first 10-day stretch.

After mass was completed and the stairway was opened, several people rushed to begin their journey. Probably three-quarters of the group moved toward the gift shop to sign the register of Camino participants and purchase their credentials, often adding a shell to signify they’re on the Camino.

Being in no hurry, I strolled back and was one of the last people to leave the concession area. It was time for me to have some breakfast back at my hotel. There were some boiled eggs, small yogurt containers, several cheeses and sausages, and some fresh fruit and croissants. It was plenty, and definitely not an American-style breakfast. That's why we travel.

By the time I finished it was only about 8:30 a.m. and the day was already heating up. When Lionel asked me what I was going to do with the day, I asked him what buildings in town had air conditioning. His first response was the museum.

For a small museum in a small town, it had a very interesting assortment of displays. Everything from Roman, Greek, Egyptian, and African artifacts, and several paintings dating back to the 1500s. To see all the artifacts from different nations on display made me think about what I missed seeing in the British Museum by not being able to get in. It was obvious that Britain wasn't the only country to bring home souvenirs from other nations and never return them. 

The museum was divided into sections like science, art, and a special exhibit from Japan. On the science level were dozens of taxidermied animals and birds. In cases along the wall were all kinds of snakes and lizards preserved in glass jars. It made me reflect back to a grade school project. The teacher had us all write letters to the places of our choice, to see if we could get some kind of sample to share with the class. I chose the New York aquarium.

A week or two later, I received a box at my home containing preserved specimens of an octopus, squid, and if I remember correctly, some kind of small crab. I was amazed and I think it was one of the few times I got the best grade in my class. I don't know if I received that honor because I really had acquired the best samples, or if the teacher was just rewarding me because she asked if she could keep the specimens. 

The rest of the day passed quickly as I explored as much as I could. Lots of storefronts and restaurants were either shut down permanently or temporarily closed as the proprietors took their own vacations. My next stop was the grocery store, where I provisioned up so I could begin my journey the next day.

I would like to say that I figured out a way to keep the room cooler, but I did not. When I got back for an afternoon nap, it triggered another memory of sleeping in a metal-roofed shack during the summer of 1973, when I worked the kibbutz in Israel. While the sense of smell might be the most evocative, trying to sleep in a room like an oven also triggers these memories from long ago.

There wasn't much else to do in the small town. I grabbed dinner later and got back to the room to get everything packed and prepared to start my walk the next day. All I could think was that the earlier I started, the cooler it would be. There was no way I was going to fully beat the heat, but at least I might get a few miles in before it arrived. Lights out before 10 p.m.