A Tale of Two -onas

So I made it to Barcelona without a hitch, and the customs guy just looked at me to make sure it was really my passport and let me through the gate. Who knows what that ticket agent was talking about, but I guess she wanted to play it safe. Or perhaps she wanted me to spend six pounds to print something unnecessary. Whatever the case, I made it to the public side of the airport and the real adventure began. I ended up going to the tourist desk there in the airport and got a couple of hostel recommendations from the disturbingly friendly woman at the desk. The only bus to Pamplona was at 10:45 pm and arrived at about 5:00 am in Pamplona, but due to the lady´s vehement desire for me to have a good time in my one night in Barcelona I decided to play it safe, avoid the hostels altogether, and take the overnight bus.
That ended up being all right, except for the fact that nothing is open in Pamplona at 5:00 am, and I still needed a pilgrim´s passport in order to stay in any of the hostels on the Camino. Instead of waiting over 5 hours for the tourist office to open, I went ahead and set off, which turned out to be a mixed blessing.
By now you might be wondering, "Wait, did he just skip a whole night of sleep?" Yes, yes I did. The bus ride happened to coincide with one of my more awake times of day back on the east coast of the states, which meant I got to pray and play various math games in my head during the ride, and only got sleepy towards the end of it. Once we arrived in Pamplona I knew there was no chance of me finding a place to stay without spending the entire day in the city, so I walked. I should also mention, because it´s to God´s credit, that the only thing I ate between my 5:00 pm Tuesday arrival in Barcelona and about 11:00 am on Wednesday (at which time I got to get a piece of real tortilla española) was a bag of salted peanuts. God sustained me for about 15 miles, though, at which point I arrived in a (deliberate!) detour from the main path, a 12th century church called Eunate, which has a hostel attached to it.
Since the hostel didn´t open for 2 hours, I waited in the church and prayed and did my best to stay awake. When 1:30 rolled around, I discovered to my chagrin that they wouldn´t accept me without a pilgrim´s passport. The next place to get one of those was Puente de la Reina (Queen´s point), another 3 miles (keep in mind this is my first day, and I had already crossed a small mountain range). The owner offered to drive to get me one, which was extremely kind of him, but I told him I would go ahead and walk the rest of the way. So I did.
It was a mixed blessing having to come all the way here, because unlike the hostel at Eunate, this one has hot showers and internet, so I was able to take my first shower since I left Florida on the 13th (that´s right, I didn´t take a shower during the entire D.C. visit, boo-yah!) AND, lucky for all of you readers our there, I can post another entry to the blog. Win-win.
God is very much present here and everywhere on the Camino. One thing that unsettled me in Barcelona was the weird look everyone gave me as they passed by on the sidewalk. But as soon as I got to Pamplona, not only did the police officer on patrol smile and return my greeting, but he wished me "Buen camino!" ("good journey," a traditional greeting on the Camino). So much nicer than pretty much everyone in Barcelona except for the tourist information person. (To be fair, my clothes are pretty weird for a beach destination compared to a pilgrimage. I´m sure none of the Barcelonans meant any harm.)
A couple insights I´ll share so far: there is no doubt that pilgrims feel like pilgrims, that is, isolated. I ate in a bar here in Puente de la Reina, and it brought back all the memories of last time. It seems like pretty much every bar in Spain has its "regulars," sort of like Cheers. The servers are friendly to the pilgrims, but there´s no getting around the fact that the pilgrim sits alone and the server sits with some of the regulars when she doesn´t have anything to do. Something to think about if I ever open a restaurant along the Camino: don´t favor the locals and engage the strangers.
Another thing I have noticed within myself is a competitive drive to be the first on the trail. I noticed it in particular when I found myself behind a long line of Koreans with huge packs. I mean, we´re talking little 10-year-olds who weight less than half of me carrying at least as much weight as I am. Anyway, I´ve noticed that I really like to pass people on the trail. I don´t like to see someone in front of me unless I know I can speed by them (which is usually, but not always, the case). It was when I passed what I think was an older English women that I realized how much of a barrier this is to not only my own enjoyment of the experience but also to my ability to witness to my fellow pilgrims. How am I supposed to share the Gospel with people on the road if I´m too focused on just getting by them?
Anyway, I´m going to bed early tonight to start making up for the terrible loss of sleep over the last few days, but know that in between prayers of praise and thanksgiving and hymns (some with all the words, even!) I am praying for all of you. Unless I don´t know you. I´ll start praying for the readers I don´t know tomorrow, so you´re covered too, I suppose. Anyway, have a good day!

Your brother in Christ,
Hunter