Bayonne, France (Camino de Santiago)

The TVG high speed train flew south past the bright yellow and green fields at a 184 miles per hour. The five hour ride was comfortable and after several trips to the dining car for beers we had forgotten the last two days of flying. Bayonne was a relief. We had finally made it and easily found the hotel where Mike and Greg had already checked in. After a quick shower we toured Bayonne with its light grey stone walls. I purchased a small white bone handled French pocket knife by Le Thiers as a souvenir. Greg took us past a small bar that he had found the previous night and we were welcomed in by a large fellow in a soccer jersey who spoke English. Bayonne had won the local soccer championship and many of the locals were celebrating. I ended up having many wonderful conversations with several newly made friends. As a group of us stood in a circle near the bar we were joined by a small elderly man who spoke no English. Many of the group welcomed him and I was told that he had fought in the French Resistance during WWII and that his brother had been captured and died in a German concentration camp. I told a fellow that six of my uncles had all fought in the war and two had been in France, which he translated to the old man. The old man reached over and shook my hand and bought me a beer in appreciation for my families help during the war. That gesture meant a lot to me, something I will remember. Journal: May 4th..“The sky was grey and I shut my eyes for a time and with each opening the scenery changed. A heavy fog weighed close to the ground, moment later bright sunshine poured in the window and as time passed the blue sky was threatened by a black thunderstorm. An old chateau in the distance disappeared as another train sounded a clackity clack as it passed with its blue and white color striping filling my window. I sat back heavy in the seat and thought about where I am and what I plan of doing over the next month.”