DAY 16; JUNE 3rd: Gignod - St Vincent (38 km- 24 m - 222 total)

WHAT A DIFFERENCE A DAY MAKES...Yesterday started in all clothes in snow. Today in just a short sleeve bike shirt.

The day is good, starting with a really nice breakfast buffet at the hotel. Looks like a bakery exploded here ...YUM YUM. I am beginning my Italian. It seems every week brings a new challenge. Last week, climbing a freaking mountain, now I have to begin speaking a new language. It is difficle, but the people are kind and encouraging.

I walk the first 5 miles to Aosta, a beautiful city that is quite large, I wish or think I ashould have stayed there...might have been good to do laundry since its now going on 2 weeks with the same stinky clothes...I keep spraying them with deodorant!



It is a lovely walk, and the city is nice. I try to find internet and get into the library for an hour, not enough to complete my updates. As the walk was a bit severe again and as my legs are still struggling to survive, I chjoose to take the train to a few towns ahead - Chatillon. It only costs 2.5 €, so a good deal, though it ends up being the cschool train filled with teenagers, though it is fun to listen and try to pick out what they are saying. I can tell by their looks...welll everyones that I am some alien to themm and a stinky one at that. I arrive in Chantillon and find no rooms left at the Francican monastery, so ask the nice ladies (in Italian) for advice and they suggest I walk a couple more miles to the next town which has a church with rooms for men only.

I run into Birgit here and we walk together to the next town, St Vincent. Where the church is closed, but eventually a priest shows up and offers me a room, but I must return at 9:00pm. Birgit meanwhile is feeling lost and is planning to sleep outside. I look thru my guides and find a hotel around the corner for 20€. We go there and it is closed, but a man on the street confirms this and then asks what we are doing. Again in Italian I explain I have a room at the church, but there are none for women. he gets on the phone call his aunt, who ruins a hotel and birgit gets a room....he also drives her there.

I return to the church and though it is only 7, I sit by the door and wait for 9:00. I journal while here and am feeling like a bad pilgrim. I really want to learn and practice italian, but find that taking care of Birgit seems to get in the way as she speaks only German, so while I want to focus soley on Italian, I am speaking another 2nd language. Am I a bad pilgrim? I decide to just let things happen and not try to make something occur.

I also wonder why instead of sitting at a cafe on a nice evening, I instead choose to sit in this alcove under the church....sometimes I am just weird.

Part of my desire to sleep in the church is I want to communie with "God,s staff" so to speak, and am excited when I see a group of nuns , monks and priests arrive at 9, thinking I will have a meal and talk with them. But I am quickly escorted away to the temporary housing for men. Here I meet several volunteers and another "pilgrim" of sorts. Marco is from Morroco and is here to find work. He is Muslim, he is in hios late 20,s, has lost many teeth and is way too thin. But his smile is bright and we share some of our stories. It is a cold wake up for me, how much I take for granted. here is this young man being FORCED out  of his world, just to survive. I whine because I miss comforts of home and he does not know when he will find a home. I want to give him money,, but know not how. Instead I offer a prayer to his God and mine...believing them to be the same.

Perhaps not having dinner with the staff was a blessing in discuise!