Wander the town, shop in the Mercado Asbastos. Make it to the Pilgrim's office, have to get a security check since I'm not carrying a pack, how things have changed. Stop in the chapel, meet with a Camino Companion, something I didn't realize I needed. This has been such a solitary journey for me, much more so than even the Portuguese route was, there was so much I needed to get off of my chest that I never found the opportunity for: it all spills out, in tears.
In the evening, I check out of the albergue, and head up the hill to a bus stop. I catch a late bus to Madrid. From Santiago, I have a seat to myself. At the next stop, a man gets on, asks me about terminals at the airport, followed by, "So, are your husband and son meeting you at the airport?" No, in fact, they are not. When I tell him so, I can see there will be no sleep for me.
For 31 days I've felt relatively safe among men (San Bol, notwithstanding, but that was warrantless on my part.) Right before I left on this trip, a friend of mine, someone I have always trusted, was accused of rape. This threw me for a loop in many ways, one of which was that I really questioned my judgement of whom I can trust. The mere question not finding a place to rest within me, unsettled, angry, triggered (I've been assaulted by "friends" in the past, the election cycle in the USA triggered me as well, reminded me of one I had blacked out, somehow), confused, saddened, clenching my jaw so hard, I developed hard enough twitches in my eyes, that I had trouble seeing out of them. And now this, like being kicked out of some paradise and into the "real" world.
Saturday, July 8, 2017
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Lavacolla to Santiago - Day 30
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| Monte de Gozo, April 28/L Herlevi 2017 |
Arrive a little after 10 am, with the teenagers, the people from the bus up in Monte de Gozo, we all crowd down. Feels appropriate. With my pack, I feel like a "real Pilgrim" one who has crossed the country with a back pack. Even if I only walked 600 kms, most people I've been around the last few days, have walked from Leon or Astorga or Sarria. I start to cry, the weight of it all.
I never thought I'd be in this city again. I love this city.
takes all day to do basic things, never make it to the Catedral for ritual, though I make it for Mass/ Do both credencial and St James stuff on Saturday. (and have to prove to security that I am a pilgrim before they let me into the pilgrim's office, since I don't have my pack with me...how things have changed.)
And you might ask why homeless people don't work? Because it takes all day to take care of basic needs.
I walk into the Seminario Mayor near the Catedral on the off chance that there would be a room available. It's been busy on the Camino, and it's a weekend, so the chance is slim. When I finally get to the desk (it's a long walk to the desk), they say it's full. Book two nights in the Seminario Menor instead, before I only remember I need one, but decide that it will allow me to store my stuff, and take a nap without rushing around tomorrow, and I can just check out before I catch the bus. It's 14 euro/night for a private room in the non-temp controlled part of the building. I feel like I'm in a separate world from everyone else, but there's a toilet three doors down, and I have my own sink.
Takes forever to take a shower. (And I need one, I didn't shower in Lavacolla, the air in the bathroom was freezing, I just washed my feet and my face.) I have that aversion to group showers, and my feet are still a mess. Forgot about the showers: these are some of the last to have the button that you push for water, where you have no idea what the temperature will be. It's quite cold to start, warms up a little. The lights keep turning off, they are on some sort of timer (a very short one.)
Real lunch, in a fancy sit-down place, need a translation on the menu, it's in Gallego. The first course is a ham sandwich in the form of a crepe. Squid sandwich for dinner. Try to find a bar for a drink, but all seem to be food service. Finally, go into a really nice bar, must be mostly locals because the bartender knows everyone, and drink Hierbas one final time. Totally singles me out as an outsider, everyone else is drinking beer, but I can't get it in the States. Devour my tapas: pincho de tortilla, and a cup of mixed nuts, guess I am still hungry. Glorious room to myself. Sleep with window open. Sleep late (relatively speaking, we have to be out between 9:30 and 1:30 for cleaning.)
Arzua to Lavacola - Day 29
Wake up unexpectedly, to my period, and I have nothing. (Since my last period only ended about 9 days ago, why would I?) Have to stay in town until a store opens, which I find isn't until after 9 am. It's 7:15, and cold. I walk to a bar at the edge of town, order a sandwich, and eat it super slowly for the next hour and a half. Then walk back to the store that opened at 9 am. Which also thankfully, has a battery recycling container outside of it, so get rid of my batteries, too. Don't know why my camera is burning through them so fast, perhaps they last a day now.
I tour the church and get a sello before I leave town, as well. Needless to say, it's late, almost 10 before I head out. My plan had been that I would continue on toward Santiago if I arrived in Arca by noon...that's not happening. Still, I have an aversion to Arca, it was a weird experience the one time I stayed there in 2005. And I know a lot has changed, but I still don't want to stay. And choosing not to stay, really doesn't leave a lot of options, by the guidebook. the only real option is Monte de Gozo (which is another 15 kms, or something, and where I stayed in 2007, but I walked it with Alex, which helped. And we still got there pretty late in the afternoon. In 2009, somehow I managed to walk all the way into Santiago.)
Speaking of which, been thinking about Alex all day, since this is where I met him. Several others continue on by-passing Arca. Lots of forest for shade, lots of wind. So much wind. I begin to lose my fear of the wind, it's my only company.
In the forest, there are signs for a new albergue in Lavacolla, 34 beds, which in this section, is a lot. (It's one of the longest stretches in Galicia without an albergue). I essentially get the last bed. Miss dinner. Bloody stumps of feet. Outside jackets and bare feet, cold. Space heater, giant blankets, wearing all clothes, sleeping bag, blanket. Only night I don't remove clothing, or sleeping bag, or blanket. It's a super nice albergue.
Back to everyone's normal life.
(Calzada-Calle-Salceda-A Brea-Santa Irena-Arca-San Peyo-Lavacolla; about 28.3 kms.)
I tour the church and get a sello before I leave town, as well. Needless to say, it's late, almost 10 before I head out. My plan had been that I would continue on toward Santiago if I arrived in Arca by noon...that's not happening. Still, I have an aversion to Arca, it was a weird experience the one time I stayed there in 2005. And I know a lot has changed, but I still don't want to stay. And choosing not to stay, really doesn't leave a lot of options, by the guidebook. the only real option is Monte de Gozo (which is another 15 kms, or something, and where I stayed in 2007, but I walked it with Alex, which helped. And we still got there pretty late in the afternoon. In 2009, somehow I managed to walk all the way into Santiago.)
Speaking of which, been thinking about Alex all day, since this is where I met him. Several others continue on by-passing Arca. Lots of forest for shade, lots of wind. So much wind. I begin to lose my fear of the wind, it's my only company.
In the forest, there are signs for a new albergue in Lavacolla, 34 beds, which in this section, is a lot. (It's one of the longest stretches in Galicia without an albergue). I essentially get the last bed. Miss dinner. Bloody stumps of feet. Outside jackets and bare feet, cold. Space heater, giant blankets, wearing all clothes, sleeping bag, blanket. Only night I don't remove clothing, or sleeping bag, or blanket. It's a super nice albergue.
Back to everyone's normal life.
(Calzada-Calle-Salceda-A Brea-Santa Irena-Arca-San Peyo-Lavacolla; about 28.3 kms.)
Casanova to Arzua - Day 28
Can't lose the crowds. Wham's "Careless Whisper" plays through my head all day.
Albergues in Ribadiso all booked up when I pass through, but miraculously, only about 10 people on the floor of the albergue I stay in in Arzua. And finally throw all my clothes into the washer and dryer. My pack might still smell, but at least my clothing won't.
Have high hope of walking into Santiago in the morning.
Albergues in Ribadiso all booked up when I pass through, but miraculously, only about 10 people on the floor of the albergue I stay in in Arzua. And finally throw all my clothes into the washer and dryer. My pack might still smell, but at least my clothing won't.
Have high hope of walking into Santiago in the morning.
Portomarin to Casanova - Day 27
Intermittent rain/sun/rain. The day feels like it goes on forever. I decide not to stay in Palas de Reis (I never have, actually) and after checking out the Iglesia and getting a stamp, continue on, alone, toward Casanova. I don't eat, I just want to get moving. Lonely walk, I try to move quickly, I don't like walking this section alone, it feels deserted, childhood fears of not going into the urban/suburban woods alone get the best of me every time, and I can't enjoy it, enjoy the trees, the peace, at all.
In San Julian, I briefly consider checking to see if a bed is available, but continue on. In the next village, I do walk in, am told it is "complete." I feel somewhat dejected, though, since both lodgings are relatively small, and recommended in the Brierley guide, it's to be expected they'd be full. I consider "cowboy" camping, I have an emergency blanket that I could use as a ground clothe. My feet are killing me, and I really should've eaten. Walking on to Melide is the other option if there isn't a bed in Casanova. Last time I was here (2009), there was nothing else besides the albergue there.
It pours before I arrive in Casanova, which would rule out sleeping outside. Thankfully, there is a bed available. When I sort myself out, I wander over to check out a new-to-me (the man tells me that it has been open for the past four years) taberna across the road. I walk in and basically say, "I need to eat." He offers me paella from a dish on the table, and heats it up in the microwave.
Two women walk in while I am eating, and then walk out again. Later, another American man walks in, and in the ensuing conversation, I find out that the taberna is closed. It's only open until 6 pm, he has another job, or place to be in the evenings. He makes the man a sandwich anyway, and when I ask, says I can stay to finish my food while he cleans. I'm actually surprised (and grateful) that he served me at all: I walked in just before 6 pm.
In spite of raucous voices downstairs before coming to bed, once everyone is in the room, this is the quietest night I've had with other people. Cracked window open when no one was looking, but still muggy and sticky in such close quarters (ten bunks in a relatively small room There's a second room on the floor, but only one person in that room.) The birds came noisily to roost for the night in the wisteria under the window. I thought someone would get up and close the window, but they don't, and the birds quiet down. Bed is noisy, it squeaks loudly every time either I, or the man in the lower bunk move in the slighest. Top bunk again, though not so hard to get in and out of.
Wind blows all night. Follows the rain.
In the morning, sun.
In San Julian, I briefly consider checking to see if a bed is available, but continue on. In the next village, I do walk in, am told it is "complete." I feel somewhat dejected, though, since both lodgings are relatively small, and recommended in the Brierley guide, it's to be expected they'd be full. I consider "cowboy" camping, I have an emergency blanket that I could use as a ground clothe. My feet are killing me, and I really should've eaten. Walking on to Melide is the other option if there isn't a bed in Casanova. Last time I was here (2009), there was nothing else besides the albergue there.
It pours before I arrive in Casanova, which would rule out sleeping outside. Thankfully, there is a bed available. When I sort myself out, I wander over to check out a new-to-me (the man tells me that it has been open for the past four years) taberna across the road. I walk in and basically say, "I need to eat." He offers me paella from a dish on the table, and heats it up in the microwave.
Two women walk in while I am eating, and then walk out again. Later, another American man walks in, and in the ensuing conversation, I find out that the taberna is closed. It's only open until 6 pm, he has another job, or place to be in the evenings. He makes the man a sandwich anyway, and when I ask, says I can stay to finish my food while he cleans. I'm actually surprised (and grateful) that he served me at all: I walked in just before 6 pm.
In spite of raucous voices downstairs before coming to bed, once everyone is in the room, this is the quietest night I've had with other people. Cracked window open when no one was looking, but still muggy and sticky in such close quarters (ten bunks in a relatively small room There's a second room on the floor, but only one person in that room.) The birds came noisily to roost for the night in the wisteria under the window. I thought someone would get up and close the window, but they don't, and the birds quiet down. Bed is noisy, it squeaks loudly every time either I, or the man in the lower bunk move in the slighest. Top bunk again, though not so hard to get in and out of.
Wind blows all night. Follows the rain.
In the morning, sun.
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| The albergue in Casanova, April 26/L Herlevi 2017 |
Sarria to Portomarin - Day 26
After writing somewhere that Sarria has one of the nicest approaches into a city of all the cities on the Camino, I wake up to traffic. People, cars. We don't have to leave until 8:30, and I don't. I wake up at 7 and can hear people passing under the balcony. I look out: parades of joyous peregrinos. I hit the school traffic as I turn the corner past the monastery: a traffic jam of peregrinos and cars, hard to get through, get out of the way. An older woman jumps out of the road as soon as there is a dirt path, trips over a root, and starts to roll down the hill, finally stopping herself in a patch of vegetation. I see several people fall today, allowing people to help them back up, but embarrassed to ask for more, soldiering on; I probably would've cried. I offer a bandaid for a particularly scraped up knee, but the woman declines.
So many changes. Eat at usual restaurant. This is the first time I didn't do this section in the rain. So everyone outside, all but me. Waitress seems glad I'm sitting inside, says it's easier for her, they are working their butts off. Cyclist sees me sitting there and walks over to ask me what I meant last night...I guess I got up and left during the middle of a conversation, I wasn't being rude, just tired. Had to do with how I felt about this journey coming to an end in a few days. The flight attendant walks over and tells me why she is walking, and since she could only get a little time off of work, hopes the time and distance are enough (to find something, the elusive answers we are all looking for on some level.) The cyclist stops beside me right before the bridge to Portomarin, asks me how I am doing. After I walk to the bridge, I don't see either of them again. I like both of them, and they are both alone, like me: solitary journeys in a crowd.
Lot more albergues. Old 100 km marker is gone. Swarm of bees.
I have a somewhat unexpected panic attack on the bridge. I can hear people behind me, but I'm trying to stare straight ahead and to remember to breathe. I walk the road into the center rather than the stairs. City is crowded. Church open, went to mass again. Church reminds me of the one in Torres del Rio, the simplicity. I can't believe they moved the whole thing and put it back together.
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| Cross the bridge and lose the traffic, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| The Tree!, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| The restaurant, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Help me!, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| A lot of water even without the rain, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
I have a somewhat unexpected panic attack on the bridge. I can hear people behind me, but I'm trying to stare straight ahead and to remember to breathe. I walk the road into the center rather than the stairs. City is crowded. Church open, went to mass again. Church reminds me of the one in Torres del Rio, the simplicity. I can't believe they moved the whole thing and put it back together.
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| Mural on the road rte, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Iglesia, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Iglesia Doorway, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Iglesia, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Iglesia, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
Triacastela to Sarria - Day 25
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| Leaving Triacastela via San Xil rte, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
Via San Xil. Smoke in the morning. Another day, another fire. This one right by the road. Scary. A man behind me calls it in.
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| Fire reigniting, April 23/L Herlevi, 2017 |
Maureen's distaste for Monastery. Anger at church for abuses in Ireland.
I take wrong way, lose arrows, because they match the lichen. Am lost, don't turn back, even though I should. Pray for God, saints, Mary to be with me even if I make a mistake, do something stupid. Pray for a sign, there is no one around, and at some point no evidence of footprints in the dust, so no longer on the Camino. I can see Sarria through a smoky haze in the distance, a white city from here. Eventually turn a corner and see rooftops, decide to try to get to them. As I get closer I hear voices talking, a man and a woman, with back packs, when I get down to where they are, I see a yellow arrow on her back. HA!
And say "thank you" a million times, and then immediately detour again, to a alleged cafe.
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| In need of belly scratching, April 23/L Herlevi 2017 |
Stay in one of last albergues. Go up and look out balcony down to street, just as Jims are passing underneath, I don't call out. I think I will see them again. I know they won't be staying here. And I have unexpectedly fallen hard for Ireland, and I've decided one of my standards is that I don't get involved with someone else's man, and he's married. I never do see them again. Sad about that. take the opportunity...when there's a toilet, use it. Water, fill the bottle. Food, eat, bed sleep. Someone you like, say something ("hi" "goodbye" and it's not just them, I have a bad habit of not making contact, have lost friendships over this. Friendships with people I like.) No (more) regrets.
Maureen invites me out with her friends, we meet up with the Brazilians. A cyclist from Bilbao joins us, he reads me a list of what makes a pilgrim that he took a picture of earlier, from his phone, translating it, even though I generally get the gist of it.
A large group of teens parades up and down the street, not sure where they are staying. We wave and cheer each time they pass. They seem really happy. I'm feeling dehydrated so order water, someone gives me wine anyway, I don't know whose glass it is. Someone passes around a glass of Pacharin. We talk about what it's made out of. (The man in Villamayor de Monjardin, showed me a picture of the fruit when I had asked, because I tried it there. He had said it was fruit fermented in Anise liquer. After I got home, I looked it up, and it is made from sloes, which are the fruit of blackthorn...the plant I think I probably managed to photograph on every single day of my camino, because I thought it looked pretty every time I saw it.)
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| Blackthorn flower, March 31/L Herlevi 2017 |
I hurry back to the albergue, wondering if I am now sharing a room with a bunch of teens...I'm not, the woman who runs the albergue likes to keep it quiet, and in fact, comes into my room to turn out the light at 10 pm because I'd fallen asleep with it on. I have a room to myself.
Laguna to Triacastela - Day 24
Word of the day is "Fire", once again. (Photo is looking eastward from near Pardonelo.)
Everyone is here, once again, how strange to live in a town where the population triples every night only to wash away in the morning. Main restaurant, edge of town, serving almost everyone. It's like a frat party.
I eat inside. Gross food, basically rice with ketchup, plus sangria. I see the Jims outside while I'm there. Wave hello as I'm about to leave, but they pull up a chair for me, and Canada Jim, goes inside to ask for a glass for me to drink their wine. He comes back out with a large glass, says the waiter referred to me as beautiful. they turn out to be staying in same place as me, didn't bring a key. I eventually get tired, and Irish J says to go home, they will figure something out.
I consider bringing them back a key, but don't, it feels too paternal to do it. Ireland rings a bell sometime later, I go down and let them in, no one else is gonna do it, but I was always gonna let them in (because it was the decent thing to do.)
They follow me, he thanks me multiple times for letting them in. Old man falls off ladder in middle of the night. He falls on his bum. His friend checks up on him a few times. I run into them again, but one of the four is missing, not sure if it was the one who fell or not. Don't know how to ask. It was actually kinda' scary. Canada snores like a pig all night. Woman (from LA) sleeping next to me asks me about him in the morning, I say it's because he was drinking. I don't think anyone slept. The other Jim doesn't snore when he drinks. The room smells, bad, not sure if it's the bathroom or someone that ate something bad, but I get up and open the door (it opens onto a balcony), and hope no one will notice, but I'm about to vomit, so that's the solution. i can see stars above but fog or smoke has really socked it in in the crevices, valleys. Big trees, dogs, Australian women. Crickets.
(Laguna de Castilla-O'Cebreiro-Linares-Hospital de la Condesa-Pardonelo-Fon Fria-Biduedo-Filloval-Triacastela; about 23.5 kms.)
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| Fires, April 22/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| One last look, April 22/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Entering Galicia, April 22/L Herlevi 2017 |
Everyone is here, once again, how strange to live in a town where the population triples every night only to wash away in the morning. Main restaurant, edge of town, serving almost everyone. It's like a frat party.
I eat inside. Gross food, basically rice with ketchup, plus sangria. I see the Jims outside while I'm there. Wave hello as I'm about to leave, but they pull up a chair for me, and Canada Jim, goes inside to ask for a glass for me to drink their wine. He comes back out with a large glass, says the waiter referred to me as beautiful. they turn out to be staying in same place as me, didn't bring a key. I eventually get tired, and Irish J says to go home, they will figure something out.
I consider bringing them back a key, but don't, it feels too paternal to do it. Ireland rings a bell sometime later, I go down and let them in, no one else is gonna do it, but I was always gonna let them in (because it was the decent thing to do.)
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| Fancy Albergue, April 22/L Herlevi 2017 |
(Laguna de Castilla-O'Cebreiro-Linares-Hospital de la Condesa-Pardonelo-Fon Fria-Biduedo-Filloval-Triacastela; about 23.5 kms.)
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| Forest route from O'Cebriero to Linares, April 22/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| A Vole?, April 22/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Near entrance to Triacastela, April 22/L Herlevi 2017 |
Pereje to Laguna de Castillo - Day 23
The folks downstairs rise early, and loudly, so I finally just get up and get ready, even though it´s too dark for me to want to start walking. The whole lower floor is cleared out by the time I go down to brush my teeth.
Cow bells ring out like wind chimes as I enter the outskirts of Trabadelo. My first (and only) squirrel sighting. Run into the Jims at the first bar, so stop. White sandwich bread toast and coffee with questionable milk in it. I eat the toast and leave the coffee.
About an hour later, the sun has hit the valley floor, I pass a dead badger on the side of the hill, 10 meters later, I smell it. Would be nice to see a live animal.
Briefly stop in La Faba for a fizzy water and a cookie, man carrying a lilac blossom, pulls some flowers off and hands them to me as I pass by. Consider going all the way to O'Cebriero, even though I had a goal of Laguna del Castillo. It's not too late when I arrive at the latter, I could continue on.
The horses actually come up only to here. Decide against O'Cebriero albergue, it seems crowded, and it would be nice to walk up in the fog in the morning. Stay in last town of El Bierzo, of Castille y Leon. Cows, smells of cows, need to do laundry and dry to smell like cows. But in the end, Galicia is full of cows, so...Evening's entertainment is literally, watching the cows come home. Get room to myself, which is good, because I'm gassy all night, have to open window even just for me. Don´t know what´s up with that.
(Pereje-Trabadelo-La Portela de Valcarce-Ambasmestas-Vega Valcarce-Ruitelan-Las Herreias de Valcarce-La Faba-Laguna de Castilla; about 20.5 kms.)
Cow bells ring out like wind chimes as I enter the outskirts of Trabadelo. My first (and only) squirrel sighting. Run into the Jims at the first bar, so stop. White sandwich bread toast and coffee with questionable milk in it. I eat the toast and leave the coffee.
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| Donkey, Trabadelo, April 21/L Herlevi 2017 |
About an hour later, the sun has hit the valley floor, I pass a dead badger on the side of the hill, 10 meters later, I smell it. Would be nice to see a live animal.
Briefly stop in La Faba for a fizzy water and a cookie, man carrying a lilac blossom, pulls some flowers off and hands them to me as I pass by. Consider going all the way to O'Cebriero, even though I had a goal of Laguna del Castillo. It's not too late when I arrive at the latter, I could continue on.
The horses actually come up only to here. Decide against O'Cebriero albergue, it seems crowded, and it would be nice to walk up in the fog in the morning. Stay in last town of El Bierzo, of Castille y Leon. Cows, smells of cows, need to do laundry and dry to smell like cows. But in the end, Galicia is full of cows, so...Evening's entertainment is literally, watching the cows come home. Get room to myself, which is good, because I'm gassy all night, have to open window even just for me. Don´t know what´s up with that.
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| Bull, April 21/L Herlevi 2017 |
Camponaraya to Pereje - Day 22
The Jims. Camera battery. Long route to Villafranca. Fires burn. Smoke fills the sky. Cacabelos has grown. Lose Camino. Arrows disappear. Stop for coffee to get my bearings. Immediately a waitress comes out to take my order, I guess she doesn´t want me to loiter. I order cafe con leche, she brings out some churros with it. More pavement. Albergue after river closed, old leaves swirl in eddies behind locked gates. I walk the long route, no cafes open, but I stop to check on my blisters, get visited by several cats.
Eat a leisurely lunch in Villafranca, but don´t stay. Take the valley route out of town. I get nervous walking this section alone, and there really is no one else around. I walk as fast as I can.
I'm planning on going to Trabadelo, but as soon as I reach edge of town, I turn around and go back to albergue, where I meet the Jims. My heart proves more ambitious than my body. The bottom floor is full. A couple of cyclist come in late, but it's just the five of us.
When I wander over to the bar for dinner, the Jims flag me over to sit with them. Irish Jim, 80 euro a week for food with his wife. Anniversary on ring to remember. Never really travelled outside of Ireland before (he is two months older than me, birthday in November.) Eats everything, and I think about him every time I eat now. Army at a young age to learn a trade, brief stint in Lebanon. Middle finger pointing, and I ask if it's a message, and he says he's a blunt Irish man, if he didn't like me or want me around, I'd know, nothing subtle about it. Since I lost my light, I ask if I can borrow one of theirs during the night, there are no lights in main room, no lights in stairs down to bathroom. Kitchen area looks like it would be fun to sleep in.
Irish Jim somehow has two, loans me one for the night.
a dog barks outside all night.
Eat a leisurely lunch in Villafranca, but don´t stay. Take the valley route out of town. I get nervous walking this section alone, and there really is no one else around. I walk as fast as I can.
I'm planning on going to Trabadelo, but as soon as I reach edge of town, I turn around and go back to albergue, where I meet the Jims. My heart proves more ambitious than my body. The bottom floor is full. A couple of cyclist come in late, but it's just the five of us.
When I wander over to the bar for dinner, the Jims flag me over to sit with them. Irish Jim, 80 euro a week for food with his wife. Anniversary on ring to remember. Never really travelled outside of Ireland before (he is two months older than me, birthday in November.) Eats everything, and I think about him every time I eat now. Army at a young age to learn a trade, brief stint in Lebanon. Middle finger pointing, and I ask if it's a message, and he says he's a blunt Irish man, if he didn't like me or want me around, I'd know, nothing subtle about it. Since I lost my light, I ask if I can borrow one of theirs during the night, there are no lights in main room, no lights in stairs down to bathroom. Kitchen area looks like it would be fun to sleep in.
Irish Jim somehow has two, loans me one for the night.
a dog barks outside all night.
El Acebo to Camponaraya - Day 21
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| Walking to Riego de Ambos, April 19/L Herlevi 2017 |
Smoke lingers over Ponferrada. Confusing sets of arrows all around Ponferrada. Road route into the city. (And I can see the other route, the whole thing, from the road, but the arrows to get to it are confusing.) Riego de Ambos has also been revitalized, looks like it has money.
Hot. Overcharged at breakfast. Man on street cutting potatoes.
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| Ponferrada, April 19/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Hidden tree, Ponferrada, April 19/L Herlevi 2017 |
Don't stop for food in Ponferrada proper, because I end up following the (aggressive) arrows along the river, which don't pass by any bars or stores. Cafeteria. Feel being an outsider. I sit outside. I smell. It's fancy. I don't belong. As i eat my fancy desert, I think, "You have no idea what I'm like, was like," before, when i'm not on pilgrimage (homeless, refugee, asylum seeker, etc) But we are all the same now. (expand on this.)
When i go in to pay, she's friendlier, offers to give me a sello (and I'm surprised they have one there.)
Quick ascent out of town. Into Compostilla. Columbrianos. Nuevas Fuentes. Long deserted stretches.
Stay at last possible albergue in Camponaraya.
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| Albergue in Camponaraya, April 19/L Herlevi 2017 |
Arrive late, it's after 5 pm. Just about everyone here tonight was in El Acebo last night. We all arrive late, earliest group checked in around 4 pm; not sure why it took so long. I only took a couple stops all day: for breakfast in Molinaseca, a brief look at the church in Ponferrada and the dessert. Decent dinner. I realize I've lost my light. There are lights on the floor, but none of the lights stay on long enough. Door opens while you shower. No where to put wet laundry. No where to wash laundry. Shower right next to door, opens onto sleeping area. But the albergue itself is clean and well-taken care of.
Meet Canadian who dances flamenco, she comes over and sits with me at dinner. Will go on to Sevilla after she finishes walking, she is hoping to finish around the same time as me: the 27th or 28th of April. While we're talking, I remember I had overheard her talking to someone else in Leon albergue.
Rabanal to El Acebo - Day 20
Think I am lost in the morning. Double back to town, start over. Routes would've met. Everyone stops at Manjarin. A memorial to Denise from Italian group, she didn't make it this far. I start crying again and have to leave. Road seems more difficult to manage going down. I don't remember all the loose rock in the past. Trouble with knee. Walk on road a bit.
Foncebadon has grown! Guess the land give away from 2009 worked. Shop expensive. fancy bathroom. Thoughts on Paulo Coehlo, maybe his fight didn't directly cause the village to grow, but indirectly, his book being published and read, caused people to begin to walk the Camino again, and bring life to these villages along the way.
Annoyance that I can't walk at my own pace, that I have to wait to go up to Cruz de Ferro until everyone else has had their millionth photo-op. I barge ahead anyway.
Splurge on room in El Acebo when someone points out to me it took me a long time to get there, while I'm eating lunch. Buy a shot of orujo later, I don't get charged for it. Book the three-bed room to myself, 36 euros, my big splurge. real (old, but real) towels. i either leave my light there or at Cruz de Ferro.
Fires burn, tomorrow they will be out of control
Wind.
Good food. (Mustard greens with the fish) I don't think I do anything in the afternoon.
Waiter/bartender carries my bag to my room for me.
I don't know what to do with the key in the morning, so I leave the door unlocked, leave key in room.
New roadside cafe by military lookout. Memory of shoes or feet in treed section. Overwhelmed with beauty.
Foncebadon has grown! Guess the land give away from 2009 worked. Shop expensive. fancy bathroom. Thoughts on Paulo Coehlo, maybe his fight didn't directly cause the village to grow, but indirectly, his book being published and read, caused people to begin to walk the Camino again, and bring life to these villages along the way.
Annoyance that I can't walk at my own pace, that I have to wait to go up to Cruz de Ferro until everyone else has had their millionth photo-op. I barge ahead anyway.
Splurge on room in El Acebo when someone points out to me it took me a long time to get there, while I'm eating lunch. Buy a shot of orujo later, I don't get charged for it. Book the three-bed room to myself, 36 euros, my big splurge. real (old, but real) towels. i either leave my light there or at Cruz de Ferro.
Fires burn, tomorrow they will be out of control
Wind.
Good food. (Mustard greens with the fish) I don't think I do anything in the afternoon.
Waiter/bartender carries my bag to my room for me.
I don't know what to do with the key in the morning, so I leave the door unlocked, leave key in room.
New roadside cafe by military lookout. Memory of shoes or feet in treed section. Overwhelmed with beauty.
Astorga to Rabanal - Day 19
Dreaded.
I started out late, hoping to find a shop open to buy chocolate, and since yesterday was both a Sunday and a holiday, the confectionery shops had been closed. I hop into the Gaudi bar for coffee and breakfast cake, I'm the only customer. The man turns up the sound on the tv so I can listen to the weather report, and is promptly reprimanded by his much younger manager who turns it back down and blasts the required stereo instead, and walks back out. I felt bad for him, following the rules regardless of what circumstances might require has always bothered me, and at any rate, he and I were the only two people in the room, and maybe felt it was far too early in the morning for the music. When I leave the shops are still closed. I take some photos and head out. Can be avoided no longer.
I hate this section, and Denise was murdered here almost 2 years ago. Her killer's trial ended recently. One of the few times I picked up a paper was in El Burgo Ranero, and there were two articles about the sentencing: 23 years, plus restitution to her parents and brother.
Ecce Homme. Unlocked. I walk forward, decide to buy a candle. I think I'm going to light it for the people I've been praying for, but walking back, I see a shell on the wall with her name on it. I light the candle for her, her family, her loved ones, and later for all who are currently walking the camino, particularly this section, and all who will walk, that it might make a difference in the world. That we can bring some light, that our love can wash the stain of this crime from this place. I'm crying. The stain lingers. I have to get up to leave, and I'm still crying, but I think the man wants to lock up. He asks which sello I want, I choose Mary, I need the female energy.
Long hot walk to Rabanal.
German shepherd who sits in front of me to stare, in Murias de Rechivaldo, he does it 2x while I sit in the courtyard drinking coffee, to guard against me or to guard me, I do not know. Two sparrows have a drag out fight on the ground in front of me, beaks grabbing one another, feet kicking at each other. I drink fast and leave.
Scenery like the Great Basin. Hot again. Uneventful in El Ganso. Australian women. (I'll be with them until Santiago.)
After I wash my pants and jacket (and they are soaked), it starts to rain. We move all the laundry under whatever eaves we can. It pours. It feels festive, like camping.
I make a run for it through the rain to the evening vespers. The inside of the church is worn, it makes me sad. We are rushed out when the vespers are over, no lingering. I guess they have other things to do.
Women cyclists come in late, shine lights in the dark of the sleeping room, slashing through the darkness like a police raid, opening the door, checking phones near where five of us are trying to sleep. Grrs.
The back of my arm is seriously burnt. I get ice from the bartender, and try to sleep with an ice pack balanced on my shoulder.
I started out late, hoping to find a shop open to buy chocolate, and since yesterday was both a Sunday and a holiday, the confectionery shops had been closed. I hop into the Gaudi bar for coffee and breakfast cake, I'm the only customer. The man turns up the sound on the tv so I can listen to the weather report, and is promptly reprimanded by his much younger manager who turns it back down and blasts the required stereo instead, and walks back out. I felt bad for him, following the rules regardless of what circumstances might require has always bothered me, and at any rate, he and I were the only two people in the room, and maybe felt it was far too early in the morning for the music. When I leave the shops are still closed. I take some photos and head out. Can be avoided no longer.
I hate this section, and Denise was murdered here almost 2 years ago. Her killer's trial ended recently. One of the few times I picked up a paper was in El Burgo Ranero, and there were two articles about the sentencing: 23 years, plus restitution to her parents and brother.
Ecce Homme. Unlocked. I walk forward, decide to buy a candle. I think I'm going to light it for the people I've been praying for, but walking back, I see a shell on the wall with her name on it. I light the candle for her, her family, her loved ones, and later for all who are currently walking the camino, particularly this section, and all who will walk, that it might make a difference in the world. That we can bring some light, that our love can wash the stain of this crime from this place. I'm crying. The stain lingers. I have to get up to leave, and I'm still crying, but I think the man wants to lock up. He asks which sello I want, I choose Mary, I need the female energy.
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| Ecce Homo, April 17/L Herlevi 2017 |
Long hot walk to Rabanal.
German shepherd who sits in front of me to stare, in Murias de Rechivaldo, he does it 2x while I sit in the courtyard drinking coffee, to guard against me or to guard me, I do not know. Two sparrows have a drag out fight on the ground in front of me, beaks grabbing one another, feet kicking at each other. I drink fast and leave.
Scenery like the Great Basin. Hot again. Uneventful in El Ganso. Australian women. (I'll be with them until Santiago.)
After I wash my pants and jacket (and they are soaked), it starts to rain. We move all the laundry under whatever eaves we can. It pours. It feels festive, like camping.
I make a run for it through the rain to the evening vespers. The inside of the church is worn, it makes me sad. We are rushed out when the vespers are over, no lingering. I guess they have other things to do.
Women cyclists come in late, shine lights in the dark of the sleeping room, slashing through the darkness like a police raid, opening the door, checking phones near where five of us are trying to sleep. Grrs.
The back of my arm is seriously burnt. I get ice from the bartender, and try to sleep with an ice pack balanced on my shoulder.
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| A Soft Part of the Morning, April 17/L Herlevi 2017 |
San Martin to Astorga - Day 18
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| Easter Morning, Empty Streets, April 16/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Villares de Orbigo, April 16/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Lizard, Easter Morning/L Herlevi, 2017 |
David the weed (like Tomas, like Jesus Jato, like San Bol was formerly) that crops up amidst all the well-heeled, sanctioned. A spirit that refuses to be tamed and paved and suitable for generic consumption. A dandelion.
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| The untamed Camino, April 16/L Herlevi 2017 |
Leon to San Martin - Day17
Attempt to make Orbigo. This is my day of my sixth breakfast. Road route. Last albergue.
Big table invites me to join them for dinner when I walk in alone. Gift of Virgin Pendant (can't remember which one from waiter/bartender, who in general seemed to hold us in disdain, so this was surprising.)
No procession.
Find the crows nests (one village back). Dog got hit, left on side of road with a bag covering it. I try to sterilize my socks. End up with bed in an upper area, to myself. Almost fall down stairs every time I move away from bed. Pile all of my things near the stairs to prevent it.
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| Road Rte to Orbigo, April 15/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Valverde de la Virgen, April 15/L Herlevi |
No procession.
Find the crows nests (one village back). Dog got hit, left on side of road with a bag covering it. I try to sterilize my socks. End up with bed in an upper area, to myself. Almost fall down stairs every time I move away from bed. Pile all of my things near the stairs to prevent it.
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| Bar in San Martin, April 15/L Herlevi 2017 |
Mansilla de las Mulas to Leon - Day 16
Good Friday. Processions start at albergue. Feels like start of long weekend, like 4th of July. Feels like mid summer. Carnival atmosphere in the plaza, in the streets. Looking for something to eat.
I don't know how the bars do it, continue to serve food after so many people have passes through, where do they get it all? Tour Iglesia. Cathredral is closing down when I finally wander over, but I manage to get a map from a woman there (begrudgingly, but I really am lost.)
New hotel attached to albergue (above albergue.) Feels weird hanging out my underpants next to their restaurant, to where people are getting the biers ready for the procession. Leave a walking stick behind. Everyone's shoes the same color:dust.
Procession runs late. After midnight when they return to plaza. Plaza set for re-paving project, prostest signs hanging from balconies. Window cracked open (though not enough, it's sweltering inside.) Can hear them return. Hear the bands continue to play. Hear the people continue to stay long past.
Bar Casablanca (not as good as before), new route that avoids scary bridge. Batteries are weird in camera. Random snacks set out. Leon dead as we enter town, but explodes within a couple of hours. People everywhere.
Machine dispensing Keurig pods, someone has left out a machine. I try it. Right before Bar Casablanca
I don't know how the bars do it, continue to serve food after so many people have passes through, where do they get it all? Tour Iglesia. Cathredral is closing down when I finally wander over, but I manage to get a map from a woman there (begrudgingly, but I really am lost.)
New hotel attached to albergue (above albergue.) Feels weird hanging out my underpants next to their restaurant, to where people are getting the biers ready for the procession. Leave a walking stick behind. Everyone's shoes the same color:dust.
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| One color, the color of dust, April 14/L Herlevi 2017 |
Procession runs late. After midnight when they return to plaza. Plaza set for re-paving project, prostest signs hanging from balconies. Window cracked open (though not enough, it's sweltering inside.) Can hear them return. Hear the bands continue to play. Hear the people continue to stay long past.
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| Before, April 14/L Herlevi, 2017 |
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| Evening Procession, Good Friday, Leon/L Herlevi 2017 |
Bar Casablanca (not as good as before), new route that avoids scary bridge. Batteries are weird in camera. Random snacks set out. Leon dead as we enter town, but explodes within a couple of hours. People everywhere.
Machine dispensing Keurig pods, someone has left out a machine. I try it. Right before Bar Casablanca
El Bugo Ranero to Mansilla de las Mulas - Day 15 or, Reasons to love the Meseta
Via Reliegos. Bar Torre not open. Irish woman take my photo (one of the few I have). Cake. Fires have burned, ash and charcoal. No memory really of this section, though I've walked it before. Just add heat and light. Road straight ahead for until just before Reliegos.
Muni. Finally can use a computer. Weirdest salad I've ever had. Procession, Maundy Thursday. Wander town.
Woman from room last night (German, music teacher) makes me feel like an outsider, so I walk away. Leave some food behind.
Muni. Finally can use a computer. Weirdest salad I've ever had. Procession, Maundy Thursday. Wander town.
Woman from room last night (German, music teacher) makes me feel like an outsider, so I walk away. Leave some food behind.
Sahagun to El Burgo Ranero - Day 14
Lagoon has all but dried up. Trees for shade, in spite of lack of leaves. Traditional route. A few albergues. I think I might scream in my sleep. I wake up with a start. Having a nightmare about the man in the bunk above me, how he won't let me sleep, keeps hanging his feet in my face. (Not for real.) Sunset.
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| El Burgo Ranero Sunset, April 12/L Herlevi 2017 |
Cauzadilla de la Cueza to Sahagun - Day 13
Vegetarian food in Laganares bar/albergue (San Nicolas?) follow man onto freeway, have to climb through a grove of pines and up an embankment to get back off of freeway. Muni. Just walk in, door unlocked. Few stay there, we could each have a compartment to ourselves if we wanted.
No procession tonight. Talk with shopkeeper, he says pilgrimage should have some suffering. Tells me about the Easter morning procession, how he can never participate because his shop is open on Sunday mornings, but in a year, he will be retiring and will be able to participate. As for now, he sees it pass his shop, Has never walked the Camino route, but will in the future, perhaps. Speaks English. Sunscreen. No computer, one in tourist office has frozen. Lots of graffiti. Plazas packed with people. Rollerskating. I think I'd like to stay another night, but when I walk into a hostel to see if they have any rooms available for the next night, he says everything is full. I wander, but don't work up the nerve to walk into any other hostels to ask. In the morning, I carry on.
No procession tonight. Talk with shopkeeper, he says pilgrimage should have some suffering. Tells me about the Easter morning procession, how he can never participate because his shop is open on Sunday mornings, but in a year, he will be retiring and will be able to participate. As for now, he sees it pass his shop, Has never walked the Camino route, but will in the future, perhaps. Speaks English. Sunscreen. No computer, one in tourist office has frozen. Lots of graffiti. Plazas packed with people. Rollerskating. I think I'd like to stay another night, but when I walk into a hostel to see if they have any rooms available for the next night, he says everything is full. I wander, but don't work up the nerve to walk into any other hostels to ask. In the morning, I carry on.
Carrion de los Condes to Cauzadilla de la Cueza - Day 12
Stop early to eat lunch, look at feet, laundry. Peace march heading in opposite direction. Loss of car keys, looking for phone. My judgement, my questioning when I became so damn conservative. French man finally allows them to use phone. Possibly drunk man who spoke english in Fromista was man they were talking about (was asked to go his own way because of his drinking). Almost full moon rising over newly plowed fields. I tell people I was speaking to in restaurant, drag them out to look. Finally, drag former hospitalero (now cook/chef in bar) out to view it. He looks. Says it'll be full tomorrow, I think. At least he pays attention enough to know that. Try to point it out to someone in the bathroom, windows look out on the sky, he says he can't see without his glasses. Later, he's staring at his smartphone, so being polite, I suppose that some stranger would interrupt him to ask him to view the moon. Irish men. One side farts, one side scratches his ass. Late two who have been drinking all night enter loudly. Fall asleep quickly and snore. I have ear plugs in, but take them out to have my nightly hacking fit (asthma?) in the bathroom. When I walk back out, the sound is so loud, I feel like I've entered a barn at feeding time. Put the ear plugs back in. I run into the Irish men in Sahagun the next day, one asks what I thought of the snoring. I say it was impressive. He replies that was a generous way to put it.
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| That moon, April 10/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Closed for the evening, April 10/L Herlevi 2017 |
Boadilla to Carrion de los Condes - Day 11
Palm Sunday. The singing nuns (Clarisa?) I say that I don't know why I'm on the Camino, not entirely true. Hot. Walk last 6 quickly, late. Arrive 15 minutes before "meet and greet." My first top bunk. Man in bunk below me holds my feet down on the ladder rungs when I have trouble getting down from bed. Room is sweltering in the night. Poblacion. Gift of shell. Nuns, gift of Star and blessing/laying on of hands. Cry through whole thing. Breakfast. Man selling trinkets directs me where to go, but I hear bells, and see a procession, so go up the hill to mass (my first). Children stomp loudly out of church. Leaving town, two women give me their blessing "Vaya con Dios."
Last town before Villalcazar de Sirga resting under massive pines, birds, bird shit, tree drops down cone, I take a picture of it, a gift. Leave sanctuary for hot road because I have to pee.
I stop at an open bar in Villalcazar, other people finishing their lunches. I sit in the shade and order beer, water, and later, ice cream, while I rest and some to a decision of whether to stay or continue. Other two peregrinos nearby seem to be continuing, at any rate, I haven't figured out where to stay here (I've stayed here three times before, not sure why I'm having an issue today, and in general on this trip...it's not due to a lack of rooms, I don't actually know, it's due to my anxiety of walking through a door and asking). In the end, just after 4:30, I decide to walk, kinda' against my better judgment: it's really hot, it's late, it's Sunday, and there are almost no cars on the road. I walk fast, at least for me. (I have this thing about being punished for making mistakes, it's not just paranoia, I have been punished for dumb mistakes, more than common sense or decency would warrant. At any rate, I'm trying to have a view of God as love, and not a tyrant, and to that end I've been praying, and pray today, that God, the saints, Mary, etc., stay with me and protect me, even if I make the wrong choice-stay with me here, logic doesn't work, it doesn't get deep enough to change a lifetime of thought patterns- and every so often, when I pray (that I won't get heat exhaustion or abducted or whatever) a cooling breeze kicks up from the bare fields, and cools me off, and I continue with a little more courage and belief in my own choices.
There's a man walking just in front of me, and though he is walking considerably faster than I, I keep him in view for most of the 6 kms. Not sure what practical good that is, but psychologically it works, so I go with it.
I try to sing in the meet and greet, but my throat is hurting again (a lot), not sure if it's the dryness, the dust, the continual coughing, or the lingering effects of the previous cold. (A week after I arrive home, I test positive for Strep, so don't know if I was actually sick the whole time, or if I caught that later on.)
Last I see of the Italian man, we cross paths several times early in the day, but I think he stayed back in Villarmentero.
(Boadilla del Camino, Fromista, Poblacion, Revenga de Campos, Villarmentero de Campos, Villalcazar de Campos, Carrion de los Condes, about 23.5 kms.)
Itero del Castillo to Boadilla - Day 10
Quite cold in the morning. Cough so hard, I puke in the sink. Drink all the water I can find, because I'm freaked out about being dehydrated. I'm planning on walking to Poblacion, but by the time I leave Itero de la Vega, it's already getting hot out. (There are computers here, as well.) I drank a lot of water and now I have to pee, I should turn around and go to another bar, but I don't, and now it's all I can think about.
The landscape is pretty wide open. Men are out working the fields, setting up irrigation, the water sprays out in horizontal rainbows.
There are groups of men walking in front of me and behind me, I really don't feel right about dropping my pants to pee. The group in front of me stops at a footbridge to remove clothing and take a rest stop. I continue on, and finally round a corner and throw off my pack, and jump into a ditch, one without poison hemlock anywhere around: it's everywhere.
Along the way to Boadilla, I name the crows/ravens "Esmeralda." Pointy-headed birds dash off into the fields before I can get a good look at them (crested larks?); large-winged birds slowly circle above, then drift off. By the time I reach Boadilla, I'm in a crowd again, I don't know where all these people came from, I guess I'm walking slow.
It's hot. Stop for lunch with plans on reaching Poblacion, but decide I should stay if I want to, and I do. Takes me an hour to eat lunch, and I'm the only one eating. Wander town. It's the third time I've stayed here, last time, in 2009, Eddie drove me to another town when I said I needed a doctor. Took me to a farmacia and spoke to the man for me, translating (my hands had broken out in itchy blisters), whatever it is he gave me (pills and an exfoliating lotion) worked. Now eight years later, he's become one of the Camino "heroes" (not the word I want, but I can't figure out what word I want, so it will do for now) along with Jesus Jato and Tomas (among others.) Anyway, no way he remembers me, but I remember him.
At dinner, I point out to the Canadian that he got more vegetable than I did, and he points out that they put a lot of meat on the plate that was handed to me: maybe I'm looking anemic.
I love this albergue.
(Itero del Castillo, San Nicolas, Itero de la Vega, Boadilla del Camino. Approx: 11.3 kms. Frost on ground to hot.)
The landscape is pretty wide open. Men are out working the fields, setting up irrigation, the water sprays out in horizontal rainbows.
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| Irrigation Rainbows, April 8/L Herlevi, 2017 |
Along the way to Boadilla, I name the crows/ravens "Esmeralda." Pointy-headed birds dash off into the fields before I can get a good look at them (crested larks?); large-winged birds slowly circle above, then drift off. By the time I reach Boadilla, I'm in a crowd again, I don't know where all these people came from, I guess I'm walking slow.
It's hot. Stop for lunch with plans on reaching Poblacion, but decide I should stay if I want to, and I do. Takes me an hour to eat lunch, and I'm the only one eating. Wander town. It's the third time I've stayed here, last time, in 2009, Eddie drove me to another town when I said I needed a doctor. Took me to a farmacia and spoke to the man for me, translating (my hands had broken out in itchy blisters), whatever it is he gave me (pills and an exfoliating lotion) worked. Now eight years later, he's become one of the Camino "heroes" (not the word I want, but I can't figure out what word I want, so it will do for now) along with Jesus Jato and Tomas (among others.) Anyway, no way he remembers me, but I remember him.
At dinner, I point out to the Canadian that he got more vegetable than I did, and he points out that they put a lot of meat on the plate that was handed to me: maybe I'm looking anemic.
I love this albergue.
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| Morning in Boadilla, April 9/L Herlevi 2017 |
(Itero del Castillo, San Nicolas, Itero de la Vega, Boadilla del Camino. Approx: 11.3 kms. Frost on ground to hot.)
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