WHEN WALKING

Home to Santiago – Day 5

La Bucaille to Rouen: 27km

This morning, as I’m running around the garden, spinning and flapping my arms with a tent on my back to dry it out, looking as if I’m taking part in a birdman competition, Benjamin’s mother pulls up.

I remove the tent and go over to introduce myself. She tells me she’s here to feed the goat and the chickens, who I befriended last night. The little white bearded goat is adorable, but the chickens too come running over in such a friendly manner that I’m worried I will have to become a full vegetarian if I finally turn.

Benjamin’s mother lets me into the house to wash and fill my water bottles. She asks me if everything was okay. And then, as I’m just packing up to go, she comes to me with a small Tupperware box and offers to boil me three of today’s freshly laid eggs. This is the dream. Benjamin opens his garden for the world to camp in, but maman turns up to feed the chickens and goat and me.

I walk away down the road with the eggs still hot in my hand. They don’t make it even to the end of the path back down to Montville.

Back in Montville, I visit the beautiful little Republican church, but again, no stamp. This time I get one from the café across the road, where I’m becoming very good at my noncommital ‘bonjours’. Excellent service as a result, I think.

I walk off into the woods, which will make up most of the walk today. I think they’re deliberately guiding us through these areas to avoid the outskirts of Rouen, because you’d never guess you were anywhere near a city. There are a few flies, and I’m doing the crazy arm-waving routine with my sticks. Today seems to be the day for lunatic choreography.

Around lunchtime, I’m passing around the edge of a settlement. There are no shops, not much of anything really, but it’s the only habitation I’ll find all day. So I sit on a bench overlooking the out-of-town fields and happily eat the fruit and nut mix I’ve been carrying for days, but was convinced I’d lost l. It’s a strangely happy moment in a nondescript place: my shoes off, my snacks out, nowhere I need to be except onwards… in a bit.

I take the shorter route into Rouen, which I note goes directly past the giant out-of-town Carrefour. I don’t know why I’m so attracted to these enormous supermarkets. They’re not really practical when you’ve got a pack on and only want a meal for one. But I do the rounds, grab a few bite-sized things, and find a giant carton of Salmorejo, which I notice gets an A for healthy. I am determined to drink the lot.

I sit down in the mall outside and start devouring my purchases. A man walks up to me, and I’m sure he’s saying something about going fishing. As he says it for the third time, I realise he’s not going fishing at all. He’s trying to tell me that gluttony is a sin.

Then, as I’m walking out, another lady approaches me. Women of a certain age seem to be very interested in my sticks. She tells me she uses hers for her hips and her veins. I tell her I use mine to preserve my knees, and point to the rucksack on my back, which she has failed to notice until now. She grabs it from underneath and heaves it upwards, nearly pushing me over, to see how heavy it is. I get an “oh là là”, which is gratifying. It seems that hypermarkets are excellent places for showing off.

I’ve been umming and ahing about which route to take after the hypermarket. I decide I can afford the extra few minutes it takes to go via the old leper hospital of Saint-Jacques. It turns out to be an excellent decision.

A few minutes later, a gentleman standing by his gate starts chatting to me. He asks me if I am on a pilgrimage and if I am visiting the old leper hospital. Yet again I am able to apply just in time knowledge from a Google search five minutes earlier, and say yes and take him up on his invitation to join him in his garden for a cold drink.

Kad is a retired maths teacher, originally from Algeria, now living in a beautiful French house overlooking the city. We talk about walking. We talk about his electric bike, and exactly how it works. Then he starts talking about pure maths, the theory of relativity and Einstein.

As he speaks, I keep waiting for the conversation to come back down to my level. It never really does. I realise my usual conversational tricks aren’t going to work here. Eventually, he stops, and it’s my turn. As a gambit, I say, “So… he laid the foundations.”

“Exactly,” he replies.

I nailed it

I think this is why I am confident with languages nowadays. I’ve just become good at bluffing. It’s probably also why I never get beyond a certain level. You can be lazy when you know how to bluff.

When I arrive in the centre of Rouen, I’m quite shocked by how beautiful the cathedral is. I’ve seen a lot of religious buildings, but this one is different. The facade seems to be made of stone lacework stretched between the sculptures. And it’s free.

I go in and get my stamp. I look at all the statues, which I presume are from the outside originally, They are lined up as if waiting to be scrutinised close up for the first time. Richard the Lionheart gets to lie down at least.

I come across the Chapel of Saint Rita, the patron saint of the impossible and I say a little prayer, and I think of all the people who must have come here to pray for the same impossible thing.

Finally, I make my way to Cedric and his impossibly inexpensive AirBnb on the south bank. He shows me to my room and I am so tired, even the supermarket round the corner doesn’t tempt me. I have reached Rouen. Whatever happens now, I have walked to a place.