Yesterday evening after a late siesta I had dinner with Alberto, Gianni and two other Italian guys, Juliano (I think) and the other guy’s name I can’t remember at the moment. Anyway, the company was good as was the food, although, as you can probably imagine, I could hardly understand a word of what was being said. I’m not a linguist, but one thing that did intrigue me was the similarities between the (Sardinian) Italian and Spanish. This enables Italians and Spanish speakers to communicate really quite well.
…It’s almost time for everybody to start waking up, which will be a relief honest, because I have been awake for quite some time.
Once up and about a fellow pilgrim and I decided not to have breakfast in Zubiri, but to walk 5 km to the next village and have some breakfast there. As it turned out this was a mistake as the bar was closed and we ended up having to walk about 3 km further. How was I to know that it was a public holiday in a seemingy random selection of regions? Fortunately I still had some sturdy bread that I had bought on monday in SJPDP and found a chunk of dried French sausage from Brittany, lurking unmolested in the depths of my rucksack, so we ate this tide us over until the next village.
Shortly after breakfast we hit an obstacle. Namely a significant section of the footpath had disappeared in a landslide. With help from the Korean guy and a bit of team effort we all managed to scramble over the obstacle and continue on to Pamplona which we reached at about 12:45 p.m.