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| The light, April 6/L Herlevi 2017 |
The albergue has changed, run by a local group. Has running water, and consequently, a working toilet now. Also, electricity. And while the toilet is most welcome, something was lost in the change: no more heady days and lost hours of debauchery. No more letting off steam, the Camino tamed and beaten into submission, conformity. Not to say the people running it now don't do a good job, because they do, and it's a nice albergue; and it's still remote, and you can still watch the stars without light polution, and electricity and indoor plumbing are welcome things, at least the plumbing is: its become a tulip and no longer a dandelion, if that makes any sense; both have their place. But the wild seeds we like to weed out, are where we evolve. And we need to keep some around.
Only two of us at albergue, I'm the only one who eats dinner. The hospitalero makes me this huge pan of paella, with salad, bread, desert, and when I'm done eating, goes home and I realize I am now in a dark room, sleeping with a strange man, we haven't spoken to one another all evening, in the middle of nowhere. I pray he's not psycho (I don't really believe he is), and fall asleep: he doesn't snore (but I'm still worried that I do.)
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| Sleeping room, April 6/L Herlevi 2017 |
Stars. Wake up and walk. Cold out.
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| In the morning, April 7/L Herlevi 2017 |
Later, someone tells me they heard the albergue is booked for the rest of the summer, so either we were lucky, or they heard wrong. Someone tells me they stayed the night before, and it was full, and they played music and sang until late in the evening (which is similar to how it used to be.)
Hontanas, man in albergue/cafe says, "Welcome home."
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