St Jean happens very fast. It feels like a deep dive in the pilgrim world. Small medieval town, quiet, twilight, a few people with backpacks on the streets.
We find a hostel, more of somebody's house. That somebody, I'll call her tante Anita, chases us around amending any tentative of noise making. Shhh, dois respecter les autres pelerins..
... morning is not better. She gives the wake up at to 5:30 and then she gives us a lecture about our misconduct while we gulp our breakfast at 6:30 instead of 6, as we agreed last night.
I like her though, she said I'm the professor in the group (I guess is my hairstyle), and she agrees eventually to a photo
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