Oct 5 - Lost, lost and lost again

I last see the beautiful Italian cyclist outside the refugio, say goodbye and "Buen Camino." Guidebook doesn't match reality and am lost most of afternoon. Hot. Sunburned legs. I see the the Irish women as I cross the bridge 2kms from town, but stay in that alburgue which turns out to be a storage container, or a FEMA trailer. It's boiling hot inside, but the hospitalera shuts all the windows to keep out the mosquitos. We all swelter in the dark night.