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.
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