Sacha the soldier

Something I haven’t felt for a very long time started bubbling away deep in my belly as our train headed south towards the Pyrenees. I couldn’t identify it as anxiety, yet it was. An excitement and anxiety sitting in the pit of my gut.  Thinking about what is ahead of us and the challenges we’ll face the belly bubbling stayed there for hours. In fact it’s still there. 

Changing trains at Bayonne  for St Jean gave us the opportunity to meet three other pilgrims on their way. All of us standing on the platform in the cold. Our first pilgrims. Sacha from Germany, Serge from Spain and Susan from NZ.

Language was no barrier. Serge had no English, Sacha a little French and good English. Sacha the soldier (as I will always remember him), Julie and I quickly found some very emotional common ground. I wept when we shared our experience of being in Afghanistan almost in the same years. I shared in brief the relief of being rescued by ISAF when we were in a shocking accident. The overwhelming feeling of seeing those big blue eyes like deep pools of peace when the doctor soldier who rescued me removed the goggles from his muddy face. The relief when he told me I would be OK. Sacha was with ISAF. We stood there. Just knowing what all of that meant. What being in Afghanistan meant. Things we saw and experienced that only those who had been there understand. Just like a fellow alcoholic or those suffering with cancer... that common bond that cuts across all race, language, age or culture. I call it spirit, or love or god... all the same to me. Sacha shared that his experience has left him restless, not knowing what to do with his life and hopes the Camino may have some answers. Bless. I hope it does. He said he had the same anxiety and excitement bubbling through his body as I did. A humble beautiful young man. His wife is furious and doesn’t understand why he needs to do the Camino. I do. 

Settled and warm in our accomodation we headed out to explore the ancient medieval stone and timber town. Cute beyond cute. Doors (a favourite for me) of many colours and types kept me wanting to wander the cobblestone streets forever but we soon heard our names being called out in this little corner of the south of France. It was Sacha inviting us to join he and Serge in a cafe for some southern French food! American Dave soon joined us too. Pilgrims have a certain look about them and they are easily identified. Not because of their clothes but a look of joy and expectation in their eyes. We ate and laughed the evening away. We haven’t started to walk yet but we are definitely on the Camino.