October 4, 2001
Logrono- Azofa (dry/hot)
13.4m/21.5km - 112m/178km

I wake up at 900A. If I had tried to sleep past 800A in any of the refugios, someone would have already rousted me out of my bed and out the door. I lie in bed for another half hour writing in my notebook and then get up and go downstairs for breakfast in the hotel dinning room. When I get back I turn the TV on and listen to it for the next 20 minutes as I do some stretching exercises. CNN is broadcasting Tony Blair's speech to the British Parliament about his plans for a war in Afghanistan. As I listen I find out that this going to be done to support the United States war plans. We are at war with Afghanistan? I have heard rumors for the past couple of days but this is the first time I hear that it is true. As I listen to the prime minister's speech, I compare his speaking style to President Bush's speaking style. Bush loses hands down. Now I understand why Bush's speeches have always annoyed me so much.

Blair's vocabulary is that of a person who respects the intelligence of the person who is listening. Bush's speeches sound like they have been written so brain damaged children can understand them. Blair reads with the confidence of a person who has already read the words that he is now saying aloud. Bush sounds like a person who is seeing the words for the first time in his life. Blair comes across as sincere and believable while Bush is just the opposite. Bush has certain mannerisms that try to convey believability though. When he wants to show that what he is saying is serious he furrows his brow and looks constipated. When he wants to come across as sincere he opens his eyes wide and at those times, bears a striking resemblance to Curious George the monkey in the illustrations from the Curious George books that I read as a child.

When people find out I am an American they have one of two things to say to me. Either how sorry they are about the World Trade Center bombing or to ask how we could elect George Bush our president. The man is not liked over here and is thought of as a lightweight. The bars we stop in usually have a television set turned to a Spanish news channel and whenever Bush's image appears people groan or get a disgusted look on their face.

The way people here feel about the United States comes out when we talk about the World Trade Center. People are horrified by what happened but at the same time I get a sense that they feel the European countries have been paying the bill for our government's decisions and actions for a long time and for once the bill was sent to the right person. Now Americans will understand that what their government does overseas has severe consequences and these consequences affect the United States too. It's funny, we are liked as a people, but not as a nation.

I leave the hotel around 1100A and walk to the bus station. I am not sure if I will ride the bus all the way to Azofra or not, I would like to do some walking today. When I get to the station I decide to buy a ticket for Najera, which is 10m/16km down the road and walk the 3.4m/5.5km to Azofra. That should get me to Azofra by the end of the day.

It takes 15 minutes to get to Najera. As we leave Logrono the Camino is a wide dirt path that runs parallel to the highway we are traveling on. Out the bus window I see groups of pilgrims as they walk along. When we reach the other side of Navarrette the Camino again runs parallel to the highway and I see more pilgrims walking along. When the bus arrives at Najera I get off vowing never to ride another bus in Spain. I feel like I have been moving at rocket speed after a week of moving at snail speed. The bus is so easy. I am afraid that if I get on another bus I will not get off until I reach Santiago.

A woman on the bus points out the street the Camino follows and I walk over to it and then over a bridge. On the other side of the bridge I am not sure which way to go because I cannot find any arrows. Yellow arrows painted on the sides of buildings point the way in most towns. There is a park along the river and when I walked over the bridge I saw two pilgrims sitting on the ground eating their lunch so I retrace my steps to the bridge and walk down to the river to talk to them. When I get closer to them I recognize them; the Swiss boys as we have been calling them. They are from Switzerland (of course) and are walking the Camino together. I ask them where the Camino is and they point to the right direction and we talk a bit. As we are talking one of them points behind me at the bridge and says, "Someone is trying to get your attention." I turn to look and see T on the bridge waving at me. I laugh. I did not expect to see T, B, or J until I reached Azofra. She and I walk the rest of the way to Azofra together.

When we reach the refugio in Azofra J and B are in the courtyard of the church next door and resting in the sun. B is lying on the pavement reading a book and J is sitting on a stone bench and leaning against the church wall as he smokes a cigarette. When J sees me his face lights up with a smile. He tells me that he didn't think they would ever see me again. He then says I look like I have been walking. I tell him I got off the bus at Najera because I wanted to stretch my legs. I also tell him and B about the war. They are surprised by it. As we talk I realize I am glad I took a break from the Camino and I am also glad to be back on it.