September 29, 2001
Larrasoana- Pamplona (Cizur) sunny
12.2m/19.5km - 43.2m/69.1km

This morning was strange. While I was putting my boots on I had the oddest feeling that I was off to one side watching myself. Then I realized that I have had that feeling ever since I got off the train in Bayonne. It was like stepping down and into a dream. Time seems to flow like honey. Effortlessly. I am in this flow and move through the days in the same way. Effortlessly. Colors are brighter and more intense but at the same time I see everything through a veil of light mist. Yesterday seems a week ago and when I try to remember what happened then, it is like trying to remember a dream almost forgotten. I am walking through a dream.

Now, from the sublime to the ridiculous. This morning B and I started out earlier that the others in our group. As we left the village I could see another group of men and women on the path about 100 feet in front of us. They had just passed a man about 5'10 inches tall, with thick black hair combed straight back from his forehead, a square face, around 40 years old, and wearing a blue sweat shirt and pants. He was walking around in a small field to the left of the path and seem to be waiting for someone. He was waiting for us. We were talking, not paying him any mind, and as we drew abreast of him he yelled to get our attention. We turned and saw he had his penis out and was waving it around while shouting, "Whooo! Whooo! Whooo!". My reaction was, "What a jerk". I tried to remember a Spanish insult (about his mother) I had learned when I was a kid but I could not think of it until we were farther down the path. B was very upset by what had happened. She said that this has happened to her several times in her life and that she hates it.

My theory on why some men feel the need to show a complete stranger his penis. He does it because he is not sure he has a penis and needs visual confirmation from another person. Look! Look! Oh, good, I can see by your reaction I do have a penis, thank you". Then there are men who think holding a certain type of job proves they have a penis. I worked as an aircraft dispatcher for five years. At one airline I worked at I over heard one pilot say, "Anyone who bleeds once a month doesn't belong in a cockpit." (i.e. no women need apply). What would make anyone say such a horrible thing? My theory? He believes that to fly an aircraft you need a penis. Women cannot be pilots because they do not have a penis. But if women are pilots, then you don't need a penis to fly aircraft. So, where does that leave him? My God, his penis could fall off the next time he steps into a cockpit! No wonder he was so resistant to the idea of women pilots.

While we are on the subject, contrary to what Freud said, women do not have penis envy. When you think about this theory you know that only a man would come up with it. When it comes to their penises men are like white people who think all black people secretly want to be white. "What? Doesn't everyone want to be white?".Or Americans who can't understand why Canadians get upset when they are mistaken for American citizens. "What? Doesn't everyone envy us because we are Americans?". My sister told me about a friend's daughter who, when she saw her baby brother's penis for the first time, said, "Good thing that's not on his face". Out of the mouths of babes.

Back on the Camino. We reach Pamplona around 200P as the city is closing down for the weekend. We stop at a bar and order cold drinks and tapas (appetizers). At one point I go pick another round of drinks. There are three steps between the bar and where we are sitting. When I get to them on the way back, I hesitate. My legs are feeling so weak and tired I am not sure I can make it down the steps without falling or dropping the glasses. J has been watching me and laughs when I stop at the steps, he understands why I've stopped, and he stands up, walks over and takes the drinks from me. When we leave the bar we continue through town and on to Cizur Menor, where we will spend the night.

At Cizur T decides to spend the night at the refugio in the church at the edge of the village, while B, J, P, and I decide to spend the night in a private refugio. The owner's have built a refugio in the yard behind their home, and it sleeps about 20 people, has bathrooms and a kitchen. This is full (I think you have to make reservations) so we are put in a very old stone building that seems to have been part of a church that is right next to the house. This place is great with trees, plants, flowers, and a lot of space in the yard. We arrive early enough to take showers and do our laundry.

Right next to one of the entrances to the building where we are sleeping is a fig tree and we are allowed to pick and eat the figs. This tree fascinates me because I have never seen fresh figs before. The only ones I have seen have been in the fig paste of a Fig Newton cookie. I've always thought of figs as being like a dried date and am surprised by how sweet and juicy they are. I finish off five of them in one sitting.

Later that evening we go to a bar down the street and have dinner. B and J order the same thing, which turns out to be something smothered in squid ink. They both look a little shell-shocked when it is put in front of them but they do eat it. In Spain dinner is served around 800P and all the refugios lock up between 900P and 1000P. So every night we go to bed with food sitting heavy in our stomachs like small warm lumps of wet cement. J has trouble going to sleep because of this and I know I would too if I wasn't so exhausted every night.