So What Was Your Most Embarrassing Moment?

[gerardcarey]

I'd caught just a glimpse of blue water, away in the distance, over a high fence. Looked like swimming pool type water, and I love swimming. And there had been a distinct lack of swimming on the Camino so far.
You remember that feeling. The cool soft water wafting over your skin as you move thru it. Nothing better on a hot day is there.

Talking about swimming, I've been online checking out my latest CF discovery. Camping Urrobi. I zoomed down on it in Google Earth. It's a couple of k's walk along the main road after Burgette, like not far from Roncesvalles. Got dorms and other accommodation, river swimming! and a pool!
It's a cert for me next time. Maybe I'll walk a normal days walk from Roncesvalles, then get a taxi back, stay the night, have a cook up, go night swimming in the river, under the stars, how cool would that be. Wish I had a lady to love. I'd take her there.

But never mind that now. I'm investigating this water. I veered off the Camino towards a big modern building. On approach I found myself looking thru large glass windows into the interior of a cafe/bar. People were sitting around a bar, drinking from large glasses of cold beer. I could see the condensation on the sides of the glasses. I'm as dry as a wooden god and boy, does that look good or what.
A waitress was bringing plates of luncheon food to folks seated around cafe tables. The far side of this club/cafe place opened out thru large sliding glass doors onto a patio which fronted a large well trimmed grassy area, in the middle of which sat the new object of my hearts desire.
An Olympic sized swimming pool.
Filled with the bluist, clearest, sparklingest water you've ever seen.
I'd found heaven on the Camino.

I noticed the sports club atmosphere immediately I walked in. All the people were very well dressed and I felt somewhat out of place with my pack, dusty clothes, and clompy boots.
However the barman assured me I was an acceptable customer. He poured me a beer and I ordered lunch. I sat on a stool beering and bocadilloring, and savouring the swimming treat to come.
I've learnt to take my time, to savour in anticipation the treats in store.

There weren't many in the pool. Four or five young mothers with children, splashing about, having a great old time.
The barman detected my interest.
“The pool, it is five Euros,” he said.
He pointed me towards the changing rooms and I eventually emerged in my swimmers. They were also my nightwear and spare undies, and I had somehow lost the string. But they were thick and elasticky so they held up all right.
All right til I dove in that is.
The water stripped them off me clean as a whistle and they wound up hanging off one ankle.
In the utmost confusion I writhed and thrashed around in the shallow water. I was trying to stand and not to stand, hopping about on one leg and trying to stay underwater as I grabbed at my swimmers, attempting to manoeuver them on and pull them up.

I feel that I was only partially successful in protecting my modesty, as the young mothers hurriedly shepherded their children out of the pool and into the adjoining changing rooms.
That left just me and the lifeguard, a strapping Spanish beauty in a bright red swimsuit, with long black hair and dark flashing eyes. From up high, on the top of her ladder-stool, she looked down on me with obvious distaste.
I gained the distinct impression that if I ever required aquatic assistance, there would be none coming from that direction.
Then, from across the grass came the cheers and and jeers of the Canadians.
Four of them. I'd walked a way with them that morning. They'd seemed a decent bunch of blokes.
They were having a great old Camino, seemingly traversing it from bar to bar.
They'd found this bar also, and had obviously enjoyed my performance.
Did they give me some stick? Did they what.
I pretended to ignore them. I climbed out of the pool and beat a studiously nonchalant retreat to the changing rooms, the eyes of the lifeguard burning holes in my back.
She now had no ones life to guard.
When I emerged the Canadians were waiting. As I re-entered the cafe I received another lengthy round of raucous applause which was not paricularly well received by the other diners.

So, after me disgracing myself amongst the mothers of the town, and the Canadians ruining the genteel lunch of the local hoi poloi, I made another mistake in accompanying them towards the next town.
With a little imagination I'm sure you will be able to imagine the content of the jibes I had to endure along the way.
A bloke makes an honest, if avoidable mistake, and is relentlessly hounded for it.
Not how pilgrims are sposed to treat each other is it.
And to think I used to like Canadians.
Them in their Tilley Dilley hats.
I'll be more careful with whom I associate next time.

Oh all right then. No I won't.

Regds
Gerard

 

[barber1586]

Oh, Gerard, I laughed until tears came! Oh, dear! Such a hoot. Still chuckling, in fact.

 

[danielc]

Oh, Gerard, I laughed until tears came! Oh, dear! Such a hoot. Still chuckling, in fact.

Gerard this made my day …a wonderful story… very well written I felt I was there ….laughed a lot

 

[wayfarer]

Will you just write the blinking book Gerard.
You could have used the buff as a kind of mini/body tube to keep decency preserved.

 

[clearskiescamino]

For me, it was in Bercianos de Real Camino.
If you have stayed there, you are required to sing a song from your respective countries.
Well, I chose With or Without you..by U2.

I continue to have nightmares after that performace. It was embarrasing

 

[Healing Pilgrim]

Ahhh,,, wonderfully memorable story, sure to regale your descendants and, now, your fellow pilgrims for eons to come. Remember that guy, whose pants fell UP?! (floated to the top rather than sticking to his butt)
For the record: not ALL Canadians wear Tilley Dilleys.. some of us don bandanas, baseball caps, cowboy hats or nothing at all

 

[tploomis]

I was just outside of Zubiri in the woods and stepped off the trail to relieve myself. I finished up, turned around and was headed back to the trail while zipping up my fly, and the fly got stuck. Over the next several minutes of struggling with my fly at least 20 pilgrims, some of whom I knew, came by. I could hear a group of them laughing down the trail as I worked at the zipper. The story of my stuck zipper spread to others, and a couple days later somebody told me about some guy who had got his zipper stuck and had to have three beautiful women help him zip it up!

 

[barber1586]

Will you just write the blinking book Gerard.
You could have used the buff as a kind of mini/body tube to keep decency preserved.

Spot on comment, Wayfarer. I'll even pre-order the book. Let's have it, Gerard.

 

[susanawee]

I'd caught just a glimpse of blue water. It was away in the distance, over a high fence.
Looked like swimming pool type water, and I love swimming.
And there had been a distinct lack of swimming on the Camino so far.
You remember that feeling. The soft water wafting over your skin as you move thru it.
Nothing better on a hot day is there?
Talking about swimming, I've been online checking out my latest CF discovery. Camping Urrobi. I zoomed down on it in Google Earth. It's a couple of k's walk along the main road after Burgette, like not far from Roncesvalles. Got dorms and other accommodation, river swimming! and a pool!
It's a cert for me next time. Maybe I'll walk a normal days walk from Roncesvalles, then get a taxi back, stay the night, have a cook up, go night swimming in the river, under the stars, how cool would that be.

Never mind that now. I'm investigating this water. I veered off the Camino towards a big modern building. On approach I found myself looking thru large glass windows into the interior of a cafe/bar. People were sitting around a bar, drinking from large glasses of cold beer. I could see the condensation on the sides of the glasses. I'm as dry as a wooden god and boy, does that look good or what.
A waitress was bringing plates of luncheon food to folks seated around cafe tables. The far side of this club/cafe place opened out thru large sliding glass doors onto a patio which fronted a large well trimmed grassy area, in the middle of which sat the new object of my hearts desire.
An Olympic sized swimming pool. Filled with the bluish clearest sparklingest water you've ever seen.
I'd found heaven on the Camino.

I noticed the sports club atmosphere immediately I walked in. All the people were very well dressed and I felt somewhat out of place with my pack, dusty clothes, and clompy boots.
However the barman assured me I was an acceptable customer. He poured me a beer and I ordered lunch. I sat on a stool beering and bocadilloring, and savouring the swimming treat to come.
Age teaches you to take your time, to savour in anticipation the treats in store.

There weren't many in the pool. Three or four young mothers with children, splashing about having a great old time.
The barman detected my interest.
“The pool, it is five Euros,” he said.
He pointed me towards the changing rooms and I eventually emerged in my swimmers. They were also my nightwear and spare undies, and I had somehow lost the string. But they were thick and elasticky so they held up all right.
All right til I dove in that is.
They wound up hanging off one ankle. In the utmost confusion I writhed and thrashed around in the shallow water. I was trying to stand and not to stand, hopping about on one leg and trying to stay underwater as I grabbed at my swimmers, attempting to manoeuver them on and pull them up.

I feel that I was only partially successful in protecting my modesty, as the young mothers hurriedly shepherded their children out of the pool and into adjoining changing rooms.
That left just me and the lifeguard, a typical strapping Spanish beauty with long black hair and dark flashing eyes. From high on the top of her ladder-stool she looked down on me with obvious distaste.
I had the distinct impression that if I ever required aquatic assistance, there would be none coming from that direction.
Then, from across the grass came the cheers and and jeers of the Canadians.
Four of them. I'd walked a way with them that morning. They'd seemed a decent bunch of blokes.
They were having a great old Camino, seemingly traversing it from bar to bar.
They'd found this bar also, and had obviously enjoyed my performance.
Did they give me some stick? Did they what.
I pretended to ignore them. I climbed out of the pool and beat a studiously nonchalant retreat to the changing rooms, the eyes of the lifeguard burning holes in my back.
She now had no ones life to guard.
When I emerged the Canadians were waiting. I received another lengthy round of raucous applause which was not paricularly well received by the other diners.

So after me disgracing myself amongst the mothers of the town, and the Canadians ruining the genteel lunch of the local hoi poloi, I made the mistake of accompanying them towards the next town.
With a little imagination I'm sure you will be able to imagine the content of the endless jibes I had to endure along the way.
A bloke makes an honest, if avoidable mistake, and is relentlessly hounded for it.

And to think I used to like Canadians.
Them and their Tilley Dilley hats. I'll be more careful with whom I associate next time.
No I wont.

Regds
Gerard

A lovely story Gerard....smiling here.

 

[Kanga]

I'd caught just a glimpse of blue water.

Gerard

Great story Gerard, well told.

 

[bystander]

Come on, Gerard, stop playing the reluctant virgin.
You've dropped your drawers and gone swimming.
Now drop them again and get writing.

 

[gerardcarey]

Will you just write the blinking book Gerard.
You could have used the buff as a kind of mini/body tube to keep decency preserved.

Never gonna live that down am I cobber.
Me and my big mouth.

 

[gerardcarey]

Ahhh,,, wonderfully memorable story, sure to regale your descendants and, now, your fellow pilgrims for eons to come. Remember that guy, whose pants fell UP?! (floated to the top rather than sticking to his butt)
For the record: not ALL Canadians wear Tilley Dilleys.. some of us don bandanas, baseball caps, cowboy hats or nothing at all

Dear Healing Pilgrim
Tks for your kind words.
But I got to admit I laid a trap for you, in Hemingway-esque fashion.
I cast my Tilley Dilley fly upon the surface to see if I could get a Canadian to rise to the bait.
Sure enough I hooked one!
Hemingway would have been proud of me.

Regds
Gerard

 

[bystander]

Gerard, I am now getting quietly excited by Healing Pilgrim's words.....
".....not ALL Canadians wear Tilley Dilleys.... some of us don ...... nothing at all"
.....Eve sans fig leaf...
..... memo, must revise packing list and weight total, how much does a defibrillator weigh?

 

[wayfarer]

We I walked the Camino with my brother in 2012 the Spanish food did not agree with his delicate Aussie tummy and he suffered a bit from flatulence. We were coming into the St. Martin Pinario in Santiago one evening and there were three very well dressed senior ladies walking in front of us through the cloister hallway when he let of a ripper. The three ladies looked around rather shocked, my brother looked at me and said Pat, you could at least say excuse me. It was like being nine years old all over again and being blamed in the wrong, you could barbeque on my face it was that red. The ladies then gave me a dirty look and walked on…… Bloody older brothers.

My other most embarrassing moment was not Camino related and happened many years ago in a little seaside town in Italy called Sperlonga. It was a time of no credit or debit cards, just good old Thomas Cook Travellers Cheques. We dropped into the local bank one day to cash a few cheques to top up the finances and I found myself in the queue behind a tall Nordic girl my own age or a few years younger. She was wearing very short cut –off jeans from which her buttock cheeks peeped. My second son, Ronan, who was about two and a half at the time joined me in the queue and became fascinated with the peeping cheeks, after a few moments he reached out and pinched one of them, the Nordic lady turned around and glared at me, my jaw hit my chest, then my mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, when I finally found my voice I looked at my son and said that was very bold, don’t do it again, The girl gave me a filthy look and said Oh for Gods sake, blame the child, then turned away.
I looked over to where my wife was waiting to find her and a few others who were waiting at the side in stitches of laughter. I wished the ground would have swallowed me just then but I saw the funny side after a while. I think it was the closest I ever came to getting my face slapped.

 

[bystander]

Wayfarer,
That reminds me of the old story of the rather grand lady who emitted a very noisy one at a dinner party.
Turning to her butler she said:
"Stop that immediately, James"
To which he replied:
"Certainly Madam, which way did it go?"

 

[koilife]

My son and I were tipping back one last pint in Molinaseca with a woman we'd walked off and on with for several weeks. She was heading back to Madrid the next day to catch her flight back to the US. She'd suffered mightily with blisters (in her all leather hiking boots, just saying) for the entire time and was lamenting that she couldn't stay longer because of work. She promised she would be coming back the following summer to finish, and then ponderously stated that she'd be wearing hiking sandals. I made a sign of the cross in the air towards her, and she chuckled, "O honey, if only that did it for me; I'm Jewish!" Not quite sure what to do or say at that gaff, I immediately sketched the Star of David (I figured, in for a penny, in for a pound). She laughed until tears rolled down her face and people turned to stare.

Shortly after that, a young twenty-something Argentinian man walked by, accompanied by a notably fetching gal. Both were heading towards the swimming area in the river and both were clad in swimsuits (if you can call them that) with towels over their shoulders. We knew the man from all the way back to Pamplona (every time we met him, he was accompanied by a different beauty). We chatted with them a few minutes before they continued on. My son (very much a 15 year old) watched them a few seconds longer, turns to me and nonchalantly says, "Dad, swimming sounds like fun. Mind if I go?" The Jewish woman burst out laughing a second time, "You must be relieved. Your son has excellent taste."

 

[pilgrim b]

Oh Gerard I have been away, so just catching up on June posts. Another Carey special, Healing pilgrim says some Canadians wear bandanas which I seem to recollect you found on a previous post now the stringless swimmers when you walk with the Canadians. I wouldn't want to make you paranoid mate but I thought with your Hemingway-esque mind you would have seen the connection as 'Homes would say to Watson" makes me wonder about the night on the Battlements who were you drinking with that night and was the guy over the wall really an Ausie or were you too p****d to detect the Canadian accent!
Just a thought mate, and I do love our Canadian cousins , but a great story and as wayfarer says write the blinking book Gerard.

 

[Al the optimist]

Another great story Gerard, keep them coming in your inimitable style!

 

[Al the optimist]

Well it wasn't really one for me but maybe it was for someone else. In the Muni at O'Cebriero last year a woman standing right in front of my (lower) bunk decided to get changed under her towel. Why not in the bathroom escapes me, but there you are. Anyway, I in the interest of decorum I decided to leave my bunk to allow her some privacy. Just at that moment she had a towel malfunction! It fell leaving her stark naked facing right in front of me! I beat a hasty, eyes averted retreat. Later in the dining area while writing up my journal she sat opposite me to eat. We passed a few words without refering to the incident and managed to carry on as if nothing had happened. How life should be in albergues - accidents happen and there is no cause for people to get upset or unduly embarrassed.

 

[Canucks]

The strangest and, perhaps, most embarrassing moment, more for my wife than I, was when we headed out from Leon. We had a rest day there and I got some sort of food poisoning or GI problem. I woke up feeling horrible but we headed out into the rain.
About 15 km along, I had to stop at more frequent intervals just to rest and hang my head and try not to throw up. Finally, we were walking down the Main Street of a little town and I just let loose with a projectile vomit. I really couldn't help it and it came upon me very quickly. With my wife exclaiming that I shouldn't be doing that where people can see, and she was trying her best Jedi mind trick against the two older Spanish gents across the street......"you don't see annnnyyyything. Keeeeep waaalking, señor's".
I kept going after that and it was the beginning of four nights of riding the porcelain pony and being like Linda Blair in The Exorcist......sometimes as the same time. Perhaps the visuals of having a bidet facing the toilet in the bathroom will assist your imagination in how that worked.
It was also the beginning of when I started losing serious weight on the camino. Before then, the food and drinks were almost keeping up with the caloric intake. Woohoo.

 

[Damien Reynolds]

In Muxia, after many a long day's walks and some celebrating, I slept-walked while looking to put my headphones away. Unfortunately I was putting them away into some nice German girl's backpack staying at the same alburgue. She woke me up with "Nein, this is mine."

The next day, carrying a vague recollection, I awoke to find my headphones on the empty bunk above me.

Later in the day, while trekking to Finnesterre, I saw her and her friend and apologized. She looked at me as though I was a criminal. I was mortified.

I will never carry headphones on the Camino again.

 

[fortview]

This is not about an embarrassing moment. Although there were a few. I just found this photo, and I do believe Gerard, that it is you, as you have said elsewhere, lying on your bunk , reading your Kindle!and note the forum badge! In Ventosa.

 

[LesBrass]

this isn't a camino story but it happened to a friend of mine and always makes me laugh out loud when I think of it.

My friend booked into a small very french B&B - it was part of a busy village tabac/bar.

She was shown her room and decided she needed a shower... but before getting in the shower decided to use the loo. Sat there naked on the loo she noticed beside her that there was a door and being a curious sort she felt she had to open it... so she did.

the door opened, swinging fully into the room next door... which was the very busy bar of the said Tabac/bar. she sat there on the loo looking out at the locals looking back at her... until one old chap kindly got off his stool and closed the door for her

 

[mspath]

Neither is this a camino story, but it was the most embarrassing public moment of my professional life as an architectural historian. One snowy afternoon in Canada 40 years ago before an audience of more than 1000 'ladies who lunch' I was to lecture. After being introduced when starting to cross the stage towards the podium my wrap-around skirt fell off!! Luckily I was wearing opaque dancers' tights and the houselights automatically dimmed. I quickly re-wrapped and tightly re-tied the skirt and started my presentation without missing a beat. Needless to add that at the end of that lecture I drank more than a cup of tea and would never wear that skirt again. ...Sic transit gloria mundi

Margaret Meredith

 

[Icacos]

During the five months that I spent planning my Camino, I kept a lookout for any book that I thought would make useful pre-Camino reading. If it turned out that the book was in our town’s library system, I’d put a hold on it and wait for an email advising me that the book was in and ready for pickup at our small neighbourhood library. One day I was near our little library and, for some reason, I got it into my head that I had recently received such an email. Since I was in the vicinity of our library, I went in to check.

It was not on the shelf where the ‘hold’ books are normally kept for pickup. The young fellow at the desk (I’d say he was in his early 20’s) was not busy so I asked him if he would confirm for me whether or not there was a book ready for me. He pulled up my information on the computer and, peering at the screen with a somewhat puzzled expression told me, somewhat guardedly, that there was no book for me ready for pickup, but that there was one ‘in transit.’

He kept peering intently at the screen and I started to wonder why does he keep looking at the screen …. and, my gosh …….. what book, or books do I have on hold that could cause him to continue to look so at the screen !!! By this time, I was getting very uncomfortable (bear in mind that I am a woman of a certain age) and, in order to shut the entire situation down so I could depart, I told the young fellow thank you very much!! …. and I left. As I was heading towards the door, it suddenly hit me …… The title of the book that he was looking at was Kathleen Meyer’s How to S#:t in the Woods.

I did not look back.

 

[NicoZ]

He pointed me towards the changing rooms and I eventually emerged in my swimmers. They were also my nightwear and spare undies, and I had somehow lost the string. But they were thick and elasticky so they held up all right.
All right til I dove in that is.
They wound up hanging off one ankle. In the utmost confusion I writhed and thrashed around in the shallow water. I was trying to stand and not to stand, hopping about on one leg and trying to stay underwater as I grabbed at my swimmers, attempting to manoeuver them on and pull them up.

I feel that I was only partially successful in protecting my modesty, as the young mothers hurriedly shepherded their children out of the pool and into the adjoining changing rooms.
That left just me and the lifeguard, a typical strapping Spanish beauty with long black hair and dark flashing eyes. From up high, on the top of her ladder-stool, she looked down on me with obvious distaste.

Most likely she was upset you weren't wearing pool regulation speedos . If you ever wander by a Spanish beach I'm guessing on the average day you'll see far worse.

 

[jgore555]

Loosen up Gerard, or tighten up. What ever keeps them shorts on! :-D

 

[bystander]

........After being introduced when starting to cross the stage towards the podium my wrap-around skirt fell off!! Luckily I was wearing opaque dancers' tights and the houselights automatically dimmed.

Now would that have been an example of the Transitional Romanesque period in Spanish Architectural history?

 

[annelise]

Well, I do not know whether this is personally embarassing, but for me I certainly felt vicariously embarassed.

I had done a long slug from Monjardin to los Arcos (about 11 km) during a heavy rain and thunder storm (thought that whenever I saw the lightenings go down, phew, at least that one did not hit me). So – thoroughly drenched – I opted for a hotel in los Arcos to attempt to dry out myself, my clothes and boots.

There was a lovely view to the church place/plaza from my room. I washed – and placed some black knickers on the window sill of the bathroom – facing the plaza.

Next morning they were gone! – and truly gone, couldn't even see them on the ground! Must have blown down overnight!

So the good people in los Arcos probably thought that black knickers on the plaza in front of the church before Sunday mass would not be appropiate …

Annelise

- and if anyone around here will have the same mishap, I can inform you that 'bragas' is the word for knickers - learned this in Logroño when trying to visually (hmm, had to go through quite a pantomime performance) indicate what I was after …

 

[mspath]

Now would that have been an example of the Transitional Romanesque period in Spanish Architectural history?

In Canadian architectural history it was definitely an example of late 20th c. Queen Anne Revival with a touch of vernacular folk art.

 

[bystander]

Love to see a repro Queen Anne building with Paula Saita polar bear finials!

 

[Kanga]

Sitting in a busy cafe/bar on the Frances, when I noticed the underwire in my bra. It had broken out of the fabric and worked its way up between my breasts and was now protruding well above my v-neck t shirt. No option but to pull it out, much to the amusement of the locals.

 

[gerardcarey]

Hi to you Gloucestershire Golliwogs.
How clever are you!

 

[Dennis M]

Gerard.. So funny. Thanks For sharing

 

[SYates]

Will you just write the blinking book Gerard.
...

Seems he finally did it - No, he didn't, it was a case of mistaken identity, I got confused by the similarities of names, or my old age, or my current state of mind, or any excuse you will allow me to claim ....

Said all this
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M3YNU5N/?tag=casaivar02-20 and also available in print ;-)
is still a great book and still makes me giggle, I hope @gerardcarey doesn't mind and, even better, gets going to publish his own one!

Buen Camino, SY

 

[wayfarer]

Seems he finally did it - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01M3YNU5N/?tag=casaivar02-20 and also available in print ;-)

Just reading it now and giggling! Buen Camino, SY

That's not our @gerardcarey, that's Gerald Kelly.

 

[SYates]

Ouch!!!! My mistake, sorry!!! But the book is good also, but for the sake of clarity I am rushing over to correct my post, so sorry! SY

 

[Laurancetsang]

i asked a blind man for directions

 

[patrickork]

I didn't know whether to post this to humour or not, so decided to keep it to myself,
I can't for the life of me remember where it was as I don't keep a diary on my caminos, but in 2017, aged 68, I was looking forward to a long, peaceful sleep.
However I eventually found myself in the middle of a nightmare (yes, aged 68) in which I was trying desperately to fend off 2 assailants in my lounge. After a spell of wrestling, punching, kicking, I put all my efforts into a martial arts style sideways kick, with appropriate scream, which resulted in me waking in total agony. I had forcefully kicked into the bunk above! I thought I had broken every bone in my foot.
After realising I hadn't, I quietly gathered my clothes etc., packed my bag outside of the dormitory and set off in the dark, about 4.00am
I still can't help seeing the funny side of this, but shudder to think what the poor person above me experienced. It must have been shocking. If you were that person, and read this, please forgive me.
I intend walking again in 2022 and promise to carry a "Prone to nightmares" sign with me

 

[RJM]

I didn't know whether to post this to humour or not, so decided to keep it to myself,
I can't for the life of me remember where it was as I don't keep a diary on my caminos, but in 2017, aged 68, I was looking forward to a long, peaceful sleep.
However I eventually found myself in the middle of a nightmare (yes, aged 68) in which I was trying desperately to fend off 2 assailants in my lounge. After a spell of wrestling, punching, kicking, I put all my efforts into a martial arts style sideways kick, with appropriate scream, which resulted in me waking in total agony. I had forcefully kicked into the bunk above! I thought I had broken every bone in my foot.
After realising I hadn't, I quietly gathered my clothes etc., packed my bag outside of the dormitory and set off in the dark, about 4.00am
I still can't help seeing the funny side of this, but shudder to think what the poor person above me experienced. It must have been shocking. If you were that person, and read this, please forgive me.
I intend walking again in 2022 and promise to carry a "Prone to nightmares" sign with me

I occasionally have those dreams where you want to wake up for whatever reason, but cannot. Trying to wake myself of course I speak aloud. Had those a couple of times in crowded albergues. A bit embarrassing for me and when I did wake up I was convinced I had woken up the entire room, and the next morning wondered if everyone else knew that was me speaking aloud in my sleep. Of course in reality nobody cared, lol. I know I would not have.

 

[marbeat]

On my first day on the camino (CF, Ponferrada to Santiago) exactly one year ago! (today) - I took a wrong turn right before the vineyards at Camponaraya. I saw people walking on top of the mountain right above me, and decided I could just climb up the mountain instead of going back all the way before the bridge etc. So, up I go, climbing a drainage canal of some point. Then I get up there and it's all fenced in. I'm looking and looking and see a small wire mesh fence but can't move it and I don't want to cause any property damage. Finally, a lovely Portuguese speaking couple comes by and the man offers to lift the mesh a bit so I can sneak underneath it on the canal. Well, lo and behold, I'm dragging myself on the floor but am not thin enough and get stuck under the mesh (now we have a group of folks watching) They had to pull me along and I snagged all my clothes, but more importantly, my ego. I guess it could have been worse!

 

[SusanH]

I absolutely love that you went swimming!!!
My most embarrassing moment was a bit of public melt down that ended in tears... It was t my finest moment!