I went to mass in sock feet—my toes were so sore :( but the Church was very beautiful. Walking with a bunch of Spanish women, I passed monstrous white windmills as we wove our way out of Pamplona—up, up, up the hills until reaching some metal figures of men on horses.
I have been with some cheery Spaniards, cheery Czech's, cryptic Brit's, and a pixie-like girl from Bilbao. She dresses rather extreme, like a fairy, and walks alone to think and sing. I also met the most interesting pilgrim. He had a big pack, decorated with feathers and shells and bits of twigs. He had long curly brown hair and beard, and he had walked from Barcelona to S. de C. to Finisterre, and he was on his way back to Barcelona. He'd gone in winter—it was a search "for himself, for inner tranquility".
This morning 4 troll-like men lumbered quickly by me—too fast! They won't make it to Santiago at that speed.