Pamploma, Spain.
I got those walking blues and am walking across Spain and Portugal instead of biking Route 66. The bus pulled into Pamploma at 1.30 am. I attempted to find a hotel room, happily failed. Walked into the bar district, throngs of Saturday night revellers, backtracked across park skirting the zombies lurking on benches. Found the way marks for the Camino. Crossed another park on edge of town, slept under huge pine tree sheltered by boughs sweeping the ground. Soft fragrant pine needles. Slept in until 8, it was a bed money can,t buy. Later bussed to St. Jean Pied de Port in France and hooved it across the Pyrenees the next day.
In idle moments I mash icons on my phone in hopes of waddling onto the Web, to no avail.
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