June 2012

From Villa Franca to Burgos (41.4 km)

Determination is my friend on the Camino today.  As I prepare my pack at the crack of dawn this morning, I hear people complaining about the cold weather and the hard hills ahead of us for the first 5-6 kilometres.  Sure enough, as I head out the door at 6:30 am, I am greeted with biting wind, probably just a few degrees above zero Celsius.  And then I see the first hill, right in front of me.  My feet are still hurting me mainly on the balls of the feet so that every foot strike feels like a nail is being driven into the sole of my feet.

The sun is just peaking out over the distant hills and I take a few moments to admire the beautiful scenery.  And then I think about something my friend Angus wrote in one of his comments, that he thought I was a very determined and strong person.  Well he´s right and today I will draw on my strength and determination to get me through the day.  I am determined to conquer these hills, to get out of my funk, to have a good day and most importantly to get to Burgos before the shops close so that I can buy a pair of running shoes.  Today is Saturday so I must get there today since everything will be closed tomorrow.  It means I must cover many kilometres.

Burgos is my goal today….a rather lofty ambition given the condition of my feet.

I march up that first hill, ignoring my feet, attacking the ground with my walking sticks.  I walk with such zeal that I am passing people, something that I never do.  I barely break a sweat because it is too cold.  But the cold envigorates me and gives me energy.  Soon I find my pace and even my feet seem to know that today they must cooperate because we have a big day to get through.  After a while, I don´t even notice the pain.

Before I know it, I am at the first town.  I´ve covered 12 km of hilly terrain in under two hours.  This is really fast for me and I am encouraged to keep going hard.  I walk mainly through a forest for the first part of the morning.  But then the land opens up offering beautiful views of acres upon acres of barley swaying in the wind like the ripples of waves on the sea.

I think about two stories I heard the night before, told to me by an old Dutch man who was originally from Indonesia.  The first story happened ten years ago on a trip he made back to his home in Indonesia.  While he was visiting his family, he met a young man in his early twenties who was also from Holland and was originally from Indonesia as well.  He was there in search of his mother´s  family.  His mother had died when he was a young child and his alcoholic father had as much as abandoned him in Holland.  He was desperate to find his mother´s family.  During his search, he made friends with the older man who offered him much fatherly advice and assistance.  Well, the young man did not find his family.  Before returning home to Holland, empty-handed, he made a serious request to the older man.  Will you be my father?  This took the older man by surprise and at first did not understand the question.  The young man said he needed a family and wanted to adopt the older man as his father.  Well, this was a strange request. The older man said he must talk to his wife and and two sons back in Holland.  Long story short, the young man meets the wife and kids, tells them his story, and they all agree to welcome him into the family.  From that time forward, the young man called the older  man and his wife, pappy and mammyand the sons are his brothers.  The young man is now in his thirties, with a wife and children of his own, and the wife calls the older man and his wife, pappy and mammy and the children call them grandfather and grandmother.

The second story is quite different from the first.  It happened when the older man was a young boy, living with his family in Indonesia.  His father was the village shaman, a healer with special gifts.  One day, the young child sees a vision, it is the ghost of his grandmother and grandfather.  It terrifies him.  His father explains he has a gift to see the spirit world.  Well, he wants nothing to do with this so called gift. From that day forward, he rejected everything his father represented, thinking it was all quackery.  He has a brother who followed in his father´s footsteps.  But this older man was adamant that he wanted nothing to do with any of this nonsense.  He prides himself in being practical with his two feet planted firmly on the ground.  No new age crap for him.  He is doing the Camino as a physical challenge and is completely closed to experiencing anything beyond that during his journey.

These stories make me think about being open or closed to new experiences, new ideas, new people, etc.  Interesting how we can be both at the same time.  Open to some experiences, like this older man taking in a stranger as a son, and closed firmly to others.  I look at myself and wonder which am I, or am I also a little of both.  I decide I want to be a more open person, and the Camino is a good place to start.  I want to be open to new experiences and people, to be less skeptical of things I don´t understand, and to be less judgemental.  I know I began the Camino feeling very open and I had many interesting experiences, but these last few days I have closed myself off and it feels like the Camino closed itself up too.  I am determined to stay more open for the rest of the Camino, and in my life in general.

I must walk 32 km today to the outskirts of Burgos from where I plan to take a bus the remaining 8 km into centre town.  Some pilgrims would be shocked to learn that I am actually planning to take a bus.  They would say I am breaking the rules.  My view is that there are no rules, each must walk their own Camino in their own way.  And today, I know 32 km will be my limit and I must get into the city to buy my running shoes.  Common sense prevails.

Just another thought about my Camino journey.  I am walking from St. Jean Pied to Port to Santiago, a distance of 780 km.  I know for a certainty that I cannot physically cover this distance in the 29 days we have available for this journey.  This means I will need to take the bus occasionally which as you know I have already done.  The journey is what is important to me, more than being a purist and saying I walked the whole damn thing. Not everyone shares this view on the Camino, so I just wanted you to know this is what I am doing.

Roads strewn with pepples were my curse on the Camino.
Much of today’s walk was along paths such as these. 

I am amazed that I keep my pace right to the last few kilometres when I start to fade a bit as my feet are just throbbing.  I reach Villafria and stumble upon the bus stop and actually catch the last bus downtown.  But when I arrive in downtown Burgos, all the stores are closed.  Turns out to be a holiday today. Doh!  This means no running shoes for me unless I hang around until Monday something I don´t really want to do.  I will decide in the morning if I continue to walk or hang back for yet another couple of days.

At the municipal albergue, I run into Chris.  I am really surprised that I have caught up to him. We end up spending the rest of the day and evening together, getting caught up with each other.  It is interesting how the Camino can bring things up unexpectedly.  We find there are some things between Chris and I that have surfaced and must be dealt with.  Well we have lots of time on the Camino to figure things out.

The Cathedral dominates the Burgos historic centre. I would love to return
to this beautiful city one day.

Today has been my best day walking on the Camino and it all began with the decision to tackle the day with determination and strength, both which came from within.  I walked strong today, full of purpose and determination.  I covered a lot of ground.  I got out of my funk.  But I did not get my running shoes….determination can only take you so far!  Life is good again on the Camino.

From Granon to Villa Franca de Montes de Oca (27.8 km)

I am on the road at 6:30 just as the church bell rang the half hour bell; you don´t need a watch in these little towns as the church bells ring on the hour and the half hour, 24 hours a day. There was indeed an orchestra of snoring last night and I´m surprised I got any sleep at all. I am happy to be on the road again. My feet feel pretty good, still lots of blisters but no pain this morning. I am barefoot in my sandals today. The weather is quite cool, and a thick blanket of grey clouds spread over the sky. I am sure it will rain sometime this morning. Trying not to think about what that will do to my feet.

Santiago is a long way off and I can’t even think about all the miles ahead.

I am feeling rather low today. I don´t feel like talking or socializing. I want to get ahead of the Italians and the Irish nurses, really, ahead of the whole bunch. But most are on the road around the same time as me so I am in the middle of all of them. 

I walk alone for most of the day except for a short time when a young 23 year old Canadian walks along side me and I learn he is going to be a father. When he hears that I have two kids, he peppers me with questions about pregnancy, childbirth, childrearing. I answer him as best I can….it´s been a long time since my kids were little. But I sense his fear of what is coming and I try to be as positive as possible. Finally, I suggest he buy himself a good baby book where he´ll find all his answers. Shortly thereafter, he ditches me like a hot potato and joins the Irish nurses who are walking in a small group. I can´t really blame him, I don´t like my company today either.

 My feet are preoccupying my thoughts today. Within an hour of walking, I start to feel new pain points. I am regularly stopping and putting bandages on my feet. I am feeling really discouraged about this. My sandals are not giving me enough cushion on this rocky path and pebbles keep sneaking in under my feet. I have to get this resolved somehow. A large city is coming up so I make a decision that when I get there I will go shopping for shoes.

I find a really nice place to stay tonight, an albergue at the back of a nice hotel. It is quite spacious and clean. I opt to pay an extra 3 euro to stay in the room with only 8 beds instead of 18. Maybe I’ll have a better sleep tonight. I am really hungry so I eat a late lunch at 3:00 and then buy a few things for a light dinner later on.

Comfy chairs like these are rare on the Camino.  I spent some time
sitting here, gazing at the lovely view and being entertained by
a pair of peacocks that were wandering around just outside the glass doors. 

The Irish nurses from the night before are my bunk mates.
Today, we all seem to get along much better. 

The church opposite the hotel/hostel.

When I get on the computer, I can tell that Chris has been here as our website has been preserved in the address history. That makes me smile. I then read his posts and sure enough he was here last night. So he is a day ahead of me somewhere on the Camino. I am feeling pretty low right now, in a definite funk. Hope it passes soon.

Rest day in Granon

I have decided to spend another day at the church in Granon to give my feet a chance to heal. It feels really strange being left behind this morning. I say good-bye to Pauline who has finished her Camino for this year and is off to Madrid to visit a friend. This is Eleanor´s last day of walking and then she returns home. Sinead plans to walk for another week….maybe I´ll see her again. Everyone I have been walking with has gone ahead and will now be at least a day ahead of me. It feels so strange to be left behind. I resist the temptation to ignore my injured feet and follow after them.

After doing my laundry, I go for a little walk around this tiny village. It is deserted at 8:00 in the morning. In fact, most of these villages I pass through are deserted no matter what time I pass through. I think mainly old people are left in these villages; all the young people and young families have moved to the larger cities.

I find a bench in a little square overlooking the countryside and I take some time to think about all that has happened on the Camino so far. A lot of personal issues have arisen, much to my surprise. This is my rest day, so I just sit and enjoy my view: a field of poppies, stripes of farmers fields like ribbons stretched over the hills. The swallows are singing happily and are darting through the trees. I realize how very tired I am, emotionally and physically. I am glad I have this day for quiet reflection and a chance to heal my body and my spirit.

I update the blog on the computer in the bar, a very hungry computer that swallows my euros greedily. I am happy to finally be up to date. Haven´t heard from Chris for a few days now but I hear from others that he is doing fine. Lucky for him to have ¨found¨ his new boots.

I am perplexed about my footwear. I seem to get blisters no matter what I do. I think runners might be the solution. It is funny, I can run 20 or 30 km without ever getting a blister. Now, I don´t do it every day and not with a pack. Maybe that is the difference.

People start arriving at the church later today, early afternoon they start to straggle in. Most speak Italian, no English, Spanish or French so far. A nice Italian man makes a big sandwich and insists I eat part of it….I don´t mind having someone care for me today. In fact I very much appreciate it. After lunch I have a nap for almost two hours, a deep and restorative sleep. When I awake, I find I am in Little Italy, surrounded by mainly older, Italian men in the room. I suspect there will be plenty of snoring tonight.

There are only 30 people in the church today compared to almost 60 yesterday. Somehow the energy is different, more negative today. Not sure if it is me and my filter or if it is the people here. There are only a few English speaking pilgrims and I seek them out but soon regret it. First I talk to a couple of Irish ladies, who turn out to be nurses as well. They are a little older than me and they are bitching and complaining about the miserable, unhappy people in Spain. Nobody greets them in the stores, nobody says hello along the pathways. I am shocked as this has not been my experience at all. When I tell them that everyone I say hello to also says hello back, they make the comment that they shouldn´t have to say hello first, especially in the shops. When they start criticizing the girl in the local shop who I admit is pretty grumpy, I again speak up and say they don´t know this girl´s circumstance, so they really shouldn´t be so harsh. Well, that set them off about us Canadians who are so damn nice and always make excuses for people. I don´t think I won any friends here.

The only supermarket in town.

Window above the choir in the church.

I eat dinner with a Dutch women who is also my mat neighbour. She complains about the dinner which I happened to think is very nice: fresh garden salad and then a main dish with potatoes and beans and sausage. Her observation: humph, potatoes, cheap pilgrim food. She said she was there for the experience, and this was an experience she only needed to do once.

I was feeling pretty uncomfortable with this crowd. The Italians were boisterous and very loud. I really just wanted to get out of there….amazing how different this experience was from the day before. After dinner, I went directly to bed, just to escape. No prayer service tonight.

From Najara to Granon (32 km ….by bus)

At 6:00 am I am awakened to the sounds of the French group getting ready. I can´t believe I have slept through the entire night and I wasn´t even wearing my earplugs. I remember waking up during the night when the guy on the bunk above me dropped his pillow and I saw him leap, yes leap off the bed, pick up his pillow and then leap back onto the top bunk. Why use a ladder when you can leap like a frog. I thought the whole bed was going to collapse on top of me. But I went back to sleep right away after that.

I lie in bed listening to everybody getting ready. I am in no rush as I have decided not to walk today. Instead I will take the bus to Granon. I have struggled to make this decision but my feet are no better today and I know I must stop walking to let them heal. Pauline had mentioned Granon was a lovely location to take a rest and that is why I am heading there today.

The French group leaves at 6:30, followed shortly thereafter by ¨Leap Frog¨. Now there is only me and the young man in the bunk next to me. I can tell he is awake but he is not getting up. I am waiting for him to leave so I can have the place to myself, but now I realize he might be doing the same of me. Almost at the same time, we both get up and start to get ready. I haven´t spoken to him before, but I know he is Spanish speaking. I don´t feel like being social, still coming to terms with taking the bus.

I notice he is sitting on the edge of the bed, massaging his ankle….and then I hear it….sniffles. Oh no, not again. I just don´t want to deal with anybody today. I try to pretend I don´t hear him and continue to get ready. I don´t look at him again, but soon I can´t ignore the sniffles. I turn to him and ask him kindly if he is ok. I am hoping he will say yes. But no, he says he is not ok. He has sprained his ankle and cannot walk. He does not know what to do. We must be out of the room by 8:00 and there doesn´t seem to be any medical facilities close by. I tell him my feet are very bad today and I am taking a bus to Santo Domingo at 9:00, hopefully from there to Granon. His face brightens: There is a bus to Santo Domingo? And you know where to get it? Ah, yes, I just spent my afternoon yesterday at the damn bus station, so yes, I know where it is.

Well, he´s happy now that he has a solution, and suggests we have breakfast first before we hobble to the bus station. I have a new friend, Alexandro who I learn is from Catalina. Turns out he speaks not a word of English andbut someone we manage to communicate with my pitiful Spanish. At the bus station, we run into another injured pilgrim, an older Italian man (Valentino) who has a bandaged knee. I invite him to join us as we are the injured pilgrims taking the bus to Santo Domingo. It must be true that misery loves company because all of a sudden this has turned into a little party and we are all smiling again.

Injured pilgrims waiting for the bus – all smiles now that we’re not alone.

In Santo Domingo, I discover the bus will let me off at Granon so I stay on, but Valentino and Alexandro are heading to the church and then to seek medical help. We wish each other a Buen Camino.

The bus drops me off on the side of the road next to a sign that points to Granon in 1 km. I hobble into town and head to the church where they run a ¨hospital for pilgrims¨ where they tend to the physical and spiritual needs of pilgrims in equal measure. It is run by volunteers on a rotating shift of two volunteers for two weeks at a time. The bedrooms are spread out over three floors at the back of the church. Each room is large and contains floor mats lined up along the walls, butt up to each other. No bunk beds, but no personal space either. There will be a communal dinner at 8:00 tonight and mass at 7:00 but this is optional.

I do my laundry from the day before and then head to the little restaurant for a bite to eat. I just sit down when who do I see strolling up the street in her bright red t-shirt and bouncy gait, it´s Pauline. She spots me and once she has settled in and found her mat she joins me for a drink and some food. We get caught up again. She tells me about how beautiful the walk was to Azofra, in fact, it was the best part of the Camino for her. I am happy for her, and glad that she had her solitude in which to enjoy it fully. Turns out Chris was there last night and he had dinner with Pauline and Ronnie and Noel. I hear he is doing much better, walking quite strongly. Lucky him!

Laundry facilities in the rafters of the church.  
The washing machine was off limits to pilgrims.

Unusual sleeping arrangement.  I was happy to have my
sleeping mat for some extra cushioning and my cosy down sleeping bag.

I am surprised to find Eleanor and Sinead (the Irish nurses who had helped me a few days ago with my feet) have turned up at the church today, and they are sleeping on the mats next to me! They are in bad shape today, but it is self inflicted pain I soon find out. They tell me the tale of the previous night when they hit the town in Santo Domingo, celebrating a party of a fellow pilgrim. They finally staggered back to the convent at 3:30 am, long past curfew (yes, they were staying at the convent while having their shananigans). Sinead insisted on removing the crucifix above her bed as she couldn´t bear looking up at Jesus in her state only to find him looking down at her, tut tutting her with reproach. These girls tell a great story and they had me laughing my head off.

From left to right: Eleanor, Sinead, myself and Pauline

Sinead is recovering nicely with her steady supply of water just like a drip.

Eleanor and Sinead stay hydrated while the rest of us are drinking beer.

I have a nap later in the afternoon and I am surprised I can sleep in spite of all the noise and commotion. I think my body needs the rest and I´m certain the two large beers from earlier had nothing to do with it.

Before dinner, everyone who wants to can help in the preparations although most of the heavy lifting had already been done. I cut olives for the salad, my big contribution to the meal. Dinner is simple but delicious – salad, boiled eggs, tuna, omelette, stewed vegetables, bread and wine. Before we eat, the volunteers lead the way in a rhythmic tapping of the table and clapping for a few minutes – it´s kinda strange but joyful at the same time. Then we all dig in.

Nela, the Polish volunteer, taking care of the last minutes details before serving.

There was a surprise after dinner. It was one of the volunteer´s birthday (Nela) and a cake has been prepared for her. Everyone is asked to sing Happy Birthday in the language of their country so as each country is called out, the song is sung, over and over again in different languages: German, Dutch, Italian, Spanish, Danish, Finnish, Korean, Japanese, French, English and many more. Nela was moved to tears. Earlier in the day, she had told me her Camino story and it was a sad tale. Her son had died three years earlier at the young age of 28. My son, Andrew will be 28 this summer and I couldn´t imagine life without him not now, not ever. My heart went out to her. She said her faith in God was tested by this as she believed everything had a reason, there was a purpose to all things that happen to us. So she went on the Camino last year, starting in this village of Granon. And now she was back volunteering. After dinner, she told me that she had not celebrated her birthday since her son´s death, so tonight was very special for her. It was very moving.

After dinner there is a prayer service open to one and all. I don´t know why but I decide to attend. It is held in the church choir which is lit by candles that are placed on the arm rests of the choir chairs. Everyone is given a pamphlet in their language. The service begins with a few minutes of silence for reflection and then a pilgrim with a guitar plays a haunting song that echoes through the church. Next, we are all asked to read a passage from the pamphlet.

At this point, my heart is racing and I don´t know why. I am even trembling inside. I try to breathe deeply to regain some control but instead I almost start to hyperventilate. When it is my turn to read, my eyes are watery and my voice quivers.

Next they light a red candle, the Pilgrim´s candle, and turn off all the lights. As the candle is passed to each pilgrim, we are encouraged to express ourselves in any way we wish: silence, words, music. When it is my turn, I am a wreck. I know what I want to say, but the words don´t come out. I can barely breathe. I have no voice. I say my words silently: I lost my faith many years ago, and tonight I am feeling that loss acutely. I pass the candle on.

At the end, we all stand and hold hands and then they recite a prayer, I think it is the Lord´s Prayer, everyone saying it in their own language. I remain silent. We are then encouraged to hug our neighbour and wish them a Buen Camino. I am choking with emotion and leave the church as soon as I can. I walk around the town which is quite deserted. I don´t know what has happened in that service and it has rattled me.

I am reminded again of being a Jehovah´s Witness and of the trauma of leaving that religion. In choosing to leave that religion, I lost my entire social network, it seemed like my entire life was taken away from me. I have not spoken to any of these former associates, including family members in over fifteen years. When I left that religion, a thick wall formed around my heart, impenetrable with regards to religion and faith and God. I lost my faith in God and even came to the conclusion that there is no god.

To this day I envy people who have faith because I know how comforting your faith can be especially when going through difficulties. I also know how much strength can be drawn from your faith. But I have lost my faith.

I don´t know what to make of this evening so I will just accept that it has happened, that it is yet another experience on the Camino. Who knows what else the Camino has in store for me……

From Navarrete to Najara (16.2 km)

I wake up feeling so refreshed after the best sleep so far on the Camino.  I slept solidly until 7:00 am and now I lounge in bed for another half an hour, not quite ready to give up the luxury of this bed and this room.  But, not everything is going my way: my feet are killing me, worse today.  I decide to wear my socks and hiking boots, I am desperate for some relief.

I have a late start, it´s after 9:00 before I get walking.  Pauline and I walk together for the morning.  Every step hurts.  It feels like a nail is piercing the ball of my left foot every time my foot strikes the ground.  I am going slow and I know I am holding Pauline back but she insists on walking with me.

This morning, I meet the French nurses who I met on the way
to Los Arcos a few days ago.  They are surprised
and sympathetic to see that my feet are still a mess.  

I pass acres upon acres of vineyards.

When we reach Najara, I simply cannot walk any further.  We stop to assess the situation.  As I am sipping on my large, icy cold beer (there is actually ice floating on top), I notice a bus station across the street.  I decide I will take the bus the 6 km to Azofra and Pauline will continue on alone.  We will meet in Azofra and share another private room.

I spend two hours at the bus station, asking every bus that stops if it goes to Azofra.  Seems like the buses to Azofra run in the early morning and early afternoon only.  There are no more today.  I am also next to the taxi stand but not a single taxi shows up all afternoon.  I am so frustrated.  It is only 6 km away and I cannot get there.  I really don´t want to stay in Najara as it is a fairly large, busy and noisy town.  Finally, I accept my fate.  I must stay here tonight.  I feel I have let Pauline down, imagining her waiting for me in Azofra.  And wondering if I will have a chance to explain to her what happened.

I end up in what I consider to be an awful Albergue. It is really no more than two rooms, 4 bunks in each with a shared bathroom.  It is right on the noisy road.  I feel so discouraged, but my feet are too sore for me to consider any other options.  I think I have hit an all time low on the Camino today.

After a shower (but no laundry as there are no facilities) I head out for food of which there is no shortage of options.  Restaurants are offering the pilgrim´s menu for 8-10 euros.  I decide to eat dinner alone, my first time really alone on the Camino.  I just want to be by myself and sulk a little.  There is a French group staying in my hostel and they invite me to join them but I decline.

The first plate of a typical Pilgrim’s Menu.

The second plate from a typical pilgrim’s menu.
Dessert is also included – a choice of pudding, fruit
yogurt or ice cream. I usually opt for the ice cream. 

I am happy to find an internet cafe where I spend the rest of the evening until the shop below closes around 9:30.  I am buoyed by the comments on the blog and the emails of encouragement that I am receiving. I like reading Chris´entries as well to see how he is doing.  I don´t feel so alone anymore.  But my enthusiasm for the Camino is at a low.  Just when I was starting to believe in the magic of the Camino, that things happen for a reason on the Camino, I can´t understand why I am stuck in this place all by myself. It makes no sense to me.

When I get back to my room, I am surprised to find the other 6 pilgrims fast asleep, and it isn´t even 10:00 pm.  I slip into bed quietly and fall asleep.  It has been the toughest day so far on the Camino.

I couldn’t help but notice and appreciate these beautiful, fragrant
roses today.  Roses grow abundantly in every imaginable color
along the Camino. 

From Torres del Rio to Navarrette (33.1 km)

Weather is my friend on the Camino today, at least in the morning.  I get a really early start this morning, on the road at 6:00 am.  It is overcast, cool and breezy.  Perfect walking conditions.  My feet are a mess again and the Compedes and bandaids keep falling off.  I don´t know what to do.  I slowly get into my rhythm and I get used to the pain, it becomes part of my day.  Still, I am in good spirits today, feeling strong and with high energy to burn.

My feet are a mess and the bandaids keep falling off.

I run into Laila early on and walk with her for a while but for the most part I spend the morning walking alone.  I reach Viana at 8:30 and stop for a much needed coffee and I rebandage my feet.  I decide to wait until the shops open at 9:30 to see if I can find a poncho.  It looks like rain today and I would feel better if I had a poncho, just a cheap plastic one that I can throw away later.  I am lucky and I find exactly what I need in a store that reminds me of a dollar store back home – lots of cheap stuff from China.  I also find a little pair of scissors that will come in handy for cutting up bandages.

Typical place to stop for breakfast.  
I bought my poncho just down the street from here.

These pebble paths torture my blistered feet.

Approaching Logrono: a small city, in the distance.

I reach the suburbs of Logrono around 11:00.  It is another 4 km to reach the centre of town.  As I enter the city, I hear lovely female voices coming up behind me.  I turn to see three young girls singing happily in harmony.  They look like they have been friends for a long time, perhaps school chums.  Or maybe they just met this morning on the Camino.  Who knows?

As they pass me, I get choked up with emotion…again, out of nowhere.  I am thinking about friendships, especially female friendships, and how much I miss them.  I think of my two days with Pauline and realize it has been a long time since I have talked with a woman like that.  I think back to the time when I did have close female friends.  Back when I was a Jehovah´s Witness.  I lost these friends when I chose to leave that religion and I realize how this has been missing in my life since then.

I´m a little teary eyed when I hear a voice call out behind me:  Look at those fancy walking sticks!  I turn around to see Pauline coming up behind me.  We walk together into Logrono and I tell her about how I was feeling.  I express my appreciation to her for her friendship.  In the centre of town, we decide to take a rest and have lunch together.  Pauline treats me, she insists.  She has come from Viana today and tells me about her encounter with Javier, the boy who I walked with yesterday.  She was able to offer him some ideas of how to move forward, concrete ideas like European programs offered to young people to help them learn a language and to get some job experience.  She was also moved by how lost he seemed.

Logrono is a bustling city.

Of course there is a marker in the sidewalk to show
the way through the city. 

I decide to continue on to Navarrette with Pauline, another 10 km, even though my feet are very sore.  They feel the same as the morning so I d on´t think I am making them worse.  The sun comes out shortly after we set out and we are roasting on the long, hot walk to Navarrette.  Pauline entertains me with stories.  She is a great story teller, bringing the characters and situations alive with humour and vivid descriptions.  I am dragging myself for the last 2 km and she pulls me along patiently.

A beautiful park on the other side of Logrono,
with an interesting Camino marker to show the way. 

Leaving Logrono, I passed by some ugly industrial areas.
The free standing (unsupported) vineyard
in the foreground intrigued me. 

Although she has a reservation already for a private room in an Albergue, we decide to share a private room with two beds.  The offer of privacy, quiet and space is well worth the extra five euros each.

At dinner, I am so surprised to see Chris show up.  He joins our table and eats his meal with us.  Another Irish couple shares our table, Noel and Ronnie.  Noel is a few years older than me and he has recently gone back to school to study Archaeology, his passion.  He talks about doing his Masters afterwards.  I am inspired as I listen to his story: a sadly all too familiar story of someone who has dedicated his life, 38 years, to his employer only to be named redundant when he should be looking forward to retirement.  He has turned that misfortune into a blessing as he now pursues his passion, with the support of his wife, which I think is amazing.

Chris and I catch up with each other´s stories.  I hear about Chris´shoes and I tell him about the people I am meeting.  I must admit I have somewhat mixed feelings running into Chris today.  I am happy to see he is doing well, but I am also feeling greedy to guard my precious solitude.  I know that I lack warmth in my greeting to Chris and he must feel it.  This chance encounter stirs a lot of feelings within me and I am surprised.

But now it is late, and time to get some sleep.  Plenty of time to think about things on the Camino tomorrow.  Now I want to enjoy our lovely room (which by the way Pauline generously offered to give to Chris, but I insisted we keep things as they were – sorry Chris!) and hopefully have a good night´s sleep.

A nice change from dormitories and bunk beds.

From Los Arcos to Torres del Rio (7.6 km)

I am a mother on the Camino today.

I sleep in until 6:30.  Me feet are feeling better but they are still tender.  I think today should be a rest day and enquire to see if I can stay for another day.  Yes, but I must leave for the morning when they clean the Albergue. Well, it has been raining all night, thunder storms in fact, and it is still raining this morning.  It is Sunday and nothing is open so what would I do and where would I go for the morning?  Even the church is closed until 3:00.

So I decide to walk to the next village, only 7.6 km away, nice and easy.  I take my time this morning.  The Albergue offers breakfast for an extra three euro – all the coffee you can drink and delicious home made ryebread, just like my mother makes, with butter and jam.  Ahhh, a taste from home.  I enjoy three cups of coffee, leisurely.  I visit for a few minutes with the Irish girls but they are heading out early, 7:00, undaunted by the rain.  Alex is going slow today too so we start to chat over our coffee.  We end up having a rather interesting conversation about yoga and meditation and energies, just what I needed.  She is only 23 years old, but is very grounded and seems much wiser than her years.

Breakfast with Eleanor (left) and Sinead (middle),
the Irish nurses and Alex (right) from the US.

As I start to pack up my stuff, I notice Javier, the young lad who gave me the lower bunk, is still hanging around.  I´m surprised as it is usually the young people who are first out the door.  He seems sad to me and I ask him a couple of times if he is ok.  Then he asks if I am walking and if he can walk with me.  I´m quite surprised.  Why does this young lad want to walk with an old woman like me?  As we pack up our gear, he offers me his Compeeds which are a necessity for bad blisters.  He says his feet are perfect so he doesn´t need them.  He refuses to accept money for them, even though I know they are expensive.

Javier and I are the last ones to leave this morning.

And so we set off together.  He is so sweet and offers to switch packs with me because my pack is heavier.  Of course I refuse the offer.  He speaks about as much English as I speak Spanish so I think we´re going to have a pretty quiet walk.  In short order, we take a wrong turn and a Spanish lady directs us back to the pack.  I must pay more attention!

As we continue to walk, I notice he is teary eyed.  I ask him is he is ok, and he replies he has allergies.  When I offer him some medicine, he admits it isn´t allergies but he is really sad.  I tell him that if he needs to cry, just go ahead and cry.  I don´t mind.  And so he cries.  And cries.  After he tells me what is bothering him.  What I get from his story is that he is estranged from his mother, he is unemployed even though he has a university education (PhysEd teacher), and he is still hurting from his parent´s recent separation.  There is a lot weighing on this lad.  I can´t offer any words of wisdom because I simply don´t have the language skills.  All I can offer is empathy, sympathy and a shoulder to cry on.  I think it is what he needs.

And then we get lost, again.  This time, we have no idea which way to go and nobody is around.  Luckily a tourist drives by, sees our confusion, drives a little further and then turns around to come back to us.  ¨I saw pilgrims in the village that way,¨ he tells us, even offers to drive us.  I am tempted but it is only a couple of kilometres away.  He has done his good deed for the day.

Detour from the Camino – this way to the town with pilgrims.

As we approach the town, I suggest we get a cool drink.  It is then that Javier discloses he is broke.  He had started the Camino with a girlfriend who has since left him to party and she had the money.  He has 50 cents to get to Logrono where his uncle lives.  I buy him a drink and give him all the food I have in my pack.  I´m stopping soon and don´t need it today.  He is moved to tears with gratitude.  This boy is such a lost soul, my heart really goes out to him.

At the restaurant, I run  into Agnes and Schushan,
the Hungarian girls.

A few kilometres later, I reach my destination and we say our good byes. He kisses both of my cheeks and thanks me for being a mother to him today.  I slip him 5 euros (my kids will laugh when they read this  – this is something my mother would have done 🙂 and wish him well.

I check myself into an Albergue – it´s big and seems to be attracting all the young people.  Little do I know that all the old people have gone to the one down the road….well, no one sent me the memo, how was I to know?  After settling in, I decide to walk around the little village to see what it has to offer. It is Sunday and everything is closed.  But pilgrims are coming through in hordes and I look to see if I recognize anybody.  First I see Daniel, the young lad from England who had joined our dinner party a few days ago.  And then, lo and behold, Pauline shows up.  She stops to have a coffee with me so we can catch up on the past few days.  She has lots to share as she has been up to some ¨shenanigans¨ as she puts it. She has me laughing my head off with her stories.

Home for the night. These beds were pretty rickety
and creaked every time someone moved. 

View from the bedroom window. Later, this road
was busy as pilgrims passed through the town. 

She has given me permission to share her funniest story.  I hope I do it justice.  When she was in Pamplona she decided she was going to skip curfew and stay out all night, along with two other Pilgrims, a couple of 40 something year old guys from Belgium and Austria.  The plan was to stay out all night and then go back to the Albergue when it opened up at 6:00.  Well after a night of drinking and dancing they all got tired in the wee hours of the morning and decided to try to get back into the Albergue which of course was locked up tight.  But there was an open window which one of the guys hoisted Pauline up to.  As Pauline pointed out, they were completely pissed but had the wherewithall to empty their pockets of change so as not to disturb their fellow pilgrims….but they couldn´t remember where they put the change.  Anyways, Pauline got in through the window and rummaged her way through the house to the front door: it was padlocked and there was no way to let someone in (how´s that for a fire hazard!).  Anyways, the other guys had to hoist themselves up through the window too.  In the morning, Pauline overheard another Pilgrim tell the story of a vivid dream he had where he swore he saw someone come in through the window and stand over him….It was all Pauline could do not to laugh.

After coffee, Pauline heads off to Viana, 10 km away.  And then I see Laila, my other friend on the Camino.  Later, I go for a big lunch and end up eating it with an older man named Roger, also from Ireland.  It was a quiet, thoughtful lunch, which I really enjoyed.

I spend the afternoon lying on my bed, writing in my journal, just resting my feet as my nurses had ordered.  I am anxious to get on the computer to let everyone know how I´m doing, especially Chris who I haven´t talked to since day 2.  That computer has a voracious appetite for euros….I spend 7 euros and only post two days.

I hang out with the other pilgrims who are all young people full of fun. They don´t seem to mind having an old lady hanging out with them and I notice how much I am enjoying myself in their company.

My dinner is a simple affair as I´m not very hungry after that big lunch.  I buy a half dozen eggs and boil them.  I eat two for dinner along with a piece of bread and some of my salami which seems to be lasting forever.  Delicious!

My dinner tonight.

I buy some fruit, an orange and an apple for just 80 cents in the Albergue store.  Now, along with my remaining boiled eggs, I have food to get me started in the morning.

I am feeling great.  My feet are healing nicely and I feel rested and ready for a good day on the Camino tomorrow.