Camino Christina

From Calzadilla de los Hermanillos to Mansilla de las Mulas (24 km)

By bus from Mansilla de la Mulas to La Virgen del Camino

Off to an early start today at 6:45 am.  I have an 18 km stretch ahead of me before the next town.  I hate these long, uninterrupted stretches as they seem to go on forever.  I have new blisters on my feet even though I only walked 20 km yesterday.  I am very frustrated with my feet….every step of every kilometre of every day has been painful so far.  Is this my curse for the rest of the way?

I am intrigued by my shadow this morning.  It is on my left side, very elongated over the farmers´ fields as the sun is beginning to rise.  I am sure my shadow has always been on my right hand side in the morning, and I am puzzled why it is now on my left.  I am still heading West as the sun is rising behind me.  I watch my shadow walk and I am amused. Hop, hop, hop it goes…is that what I look like when I walk?  I don´t think I am losing my mind, I just think it is entertaining.  As the morning progresses, my shadow shrinks with the rising sun, and slowly moves in front of me.  I think there must be some deep metaphor I can derive from my shadow, but it eludes me.  It is just my shadow, keeping me company on this very long, lonely stretch.

The scenery is beautiful this morning as I am walking along a road that passes through farmer´s fields.  The farmers are on their tractors cutting the hay, moving it into rows and then converting the cut hay into neat rectangular blocks.  I am fascinated by the different pieces of machinery that handles these different tasks.  I have never seen this in progress and it makes me think of my father-in-law, Denis who has lived on a farm most of his life and to whom bringing in the hay is second nature.  He would probably laugh at me, such a city girl I am.  And he would probably have a funny joke to say as well.

Within about an hour, I catch up to Emily and then to Laila both of whom left before me.  I´m moving at my usual pace, again, finding I can handle the pain in my feet when I walk faster.  I´m probably doing more damage at this pace, but it´s a catch 22 as far as I´m concerned.  Damned if I do and damned if don´t walk faster.

Laila looking rather exotic as she protects herself from the sun.

I walk alone for about three hours and then I catch up to Laila again and we walk together for the last hour into Religiosa.  This is where Chris spent last night and I can´t believe he walked so far in one day.  My feet just won´t let me go that far.  Laila and I walk together to the next town 6 km away.  We are dying for our morning coffee and somehow missed all the coffee shops in Religiosa.

Easy and Cheap – I like the sound of that!

In Manzilla, we stop at the first open restaurant for coffee and we run into Patrick and Thomas, the very same guys who Pauline told me about in her story about the shenanigans in Pamplona which seems like an eternity ago.  I have never met them, but Laila knows them and apparently they have met Chris too.  Paul is with them too; he is from Holland and began his walk from his home town.  He has been walking for two months already.

These guys are really funny and as we settle in for coffee, followed by beer (for me) we have a discussion about nudist beaches and parks which are very popular in Germany which is where Thomas is from.  Patrick, from Belgium, tells us that he will only take his vacation with his family (wife and son) to naturalist places, whether it is camping or whatever.  His wife would not even consider going to a beach unless it is a nudist beach.

I tell them about how conservative we are in Canada and give an example of the girl who challenge the law that prohibits female toplessness in public places in Ottawa.  Even though she won her case, and this happened a number of years ago, it is still very rare to see a woman go topless on a beach in Ottawa.

Patrick then tells us a very funny story.  He is suntanning in his yard in Belgium, in the nude of course, when he hears is doorbell ring.  He puts on a pair of shorts quickly, answers the door and finds two men who are butt naked except for thong bikinis.  When they see him, they turn and run away, down the street to a news crew.  Patrick thinks this is some kind of game, so he pulls off his shorts and chases after them down the street.  Once he reaches them, they are all laughing at him and then they interview him.  Apparently the two guys are a couple of crazy Aussies who have a TV show where they do outrageous things.  All of this is captured on film.  Patrick proudly tells us of the day he gathered his entire family together to watch the episode in which he is featured, his only disappointment is that they blurred out his private parts, the best part of the show in his opinion. 🙂

A little church in Mansilla.  Again, the streets are deserted.

The boys head off into Leon, and Laila and I head to the bus station.  We have both decided to take the bus through Leon to the other side; my feet are throbbing, and her knee is bothering her.  The bus takes us downtown and then we somehow manage to figure out where the bus stop is to take us to the outskirts on the other side, to a place called La Virgen del Camino where we will stay the night.

We settle into the Municipal Albergue which is absolutely beautiful, located in an old convent.  Everything is new and sparkling clean.  We are both happy with our decision to pass through Leon.

We go about our separate routines and somehow we lose each other and end up eating separately.  I am quite miserable because I am in so much pain with my feet.  I even consider skipping dinner because it hurts so much to walk, but my hunger pains get the better of me.  Tonight I forego the pilgrim´s menu and opt for a hamburger, french fries and a beer – comfort food.

As I hobble slowly back to the Albergue, an old man passes me and wishes me a Buen Camino.  I don´t even have my back pack on and I look like a pilgrim.  Then an old lady passes me, but stops me in my tracks and asks me if I am a ¨peregrina¨.  I say yes.  She wants to know where I began and when I tell her St. Jean Pied de Port, she looks at me with wonder and respect.  I am a real pilgrim in her eyes.  Then she asks me how I am feeling and I tell her I am in a lot of pain, my feet are full of blisters, and I can barely walk.  She looks intently into my eyes, and then down at my feet, and then quite unexpectedly, she gives me the biggest bear hug imaginable, especially from such a tiny woman.  As she hugs me, she is talking fast in Spanish.  I have no idea what she is saying, but it is comforting nonetheless and I am so touched by her sponanteous gesture of caring and kindness, that I start to cry.  She hugs me harder and then releases me, pats my arm with some final reassuring words and then wishes me, with the deepest sincerity, Buen Camino.  You know, I really needed that hug!

I cry all the way back to the Albergue but when I enter the common area full of strangers, I wipe my tears away and push my pain down deep.  I talk to a few people, including a priest whose advice to me is to walk as many kilometres as I can each day, 35 if possible, and not to take a bus.  When I try to explain I simply can´t do it physically, he doesn´t seem to hear, or understand.  Then Laila comes in and I tell her what happened with the woman on the street.  As I tell her, I begin to cry again.  I am in such pain and I confess to her that I don´t think I can continue.  I am thinking it might be time to pack it in.

Laila is very comforting to me and she looks closely at my feet.  They are very, very swollen in addition to all the blisters.  She suggests I soak them in cold water for a while and even keeps me company as I sit in the bathroom with my feet in a laundry tub.  She gets my towel for me so I don’t have to walk extra steps.  She is so kind and caring towards me.

My feet feel much better after the soak and some of the swelling has gone down.  I decide I will wait until the morning to see what I do next.

Before I go to bed, I thank Laila for her kindness and encouragement and for being such a good friend to me today.  I tell her not to worry about me, that she should get up in the morning and continue on without me.  I assure her I will make the best decision for me in the morning, and hopefully our paths will cross again before Santiago.

Posted in the Albergue lobby…..305 km seems like a long way to go
especially with my blistered feet. 

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From San Nicolas del Real Camino to Calzadilla de los Hermanillos (21 km)

Today I take the road less travelled. Chris and I get up late, around 7:00.  I am feeling so much better after a good night´s sleep although my stomach still feels a little fragile, but I´m ready to keep going.  I´m taking my time though, having a coffee and croissant while I check my email before I start walking.  While eating breakfast I hear Chris outside talking to Noel and Ronnie who have just walked up (they have already been walking for 2 hours).  This is the Irish couple who Chris had a few too many with some time ago.  I have not seen them since Granon.

Next comes Laila who I haven´t seen since Logrono.  She tells me there is a junction coming up where you must choose to go right or left.  The left road is the most well travelled and it goes along the road way for about 31 km.  The right is far less travelled and passes through remote countryside.  Both roads meet up again in Reliegos. She is planning to take the less travelled road and hopes to see me later.

Even though my feet are hurting, I walk strong this morning.  It seems the pain is not as sharp if I walk faster.  Every time I start walking, I am wincing in pain and stepping gingerly on my feet until I get used to the pain and get into my stride.  Then it just feels like a dull pain that is part of my walk.

At the first town, I catch up to Ronnie and Noel who are enjoying a rest and a cup of coffee.  Chris is with them but I don´t see him as he has gone into a shop while I have gone into the cafe.  He has left when I come out, not even a hello.  I think he is upset about leaving his favourite water bottle behind.  Maybe he thought I would see it and bring it for him, but I didn´t notice it back at the Albergue.  I have bought two Snickers bars in the cafe – one for him – now I have two for myself.

There are many works of art that pay homage to the pilgrim. 

I haven’t seen “Crazy” Yoshida for a few days and was surprised and happy
to see him here, enjoying his one cigarette for the day 🙂 

I purchase some groceries and more bandaids at the Pharmacy.  I can´t believe how many bandaids and tape I am going through.  I am hoping to get to Reliegos today but I know that will be pushing it especially since I am still not feeling 100 percent.

When I reach the junction point, I am not sure which way to go.  Everybody is going left, not a soul is going right.  Finally, I choose the road less travelled and veer to the right.  It is a good decision because it is a lovely old Roman road that passes through remote, pretty countryside.  It is very isolated and there is not a soul in sight ahead or behind.  Sometimes I wonder if I am on the right road, but then a sign will appear and I can relax again.

Another pebble road to torture my feet.

It is always reassuring to see a sign on
these remote, isolated stretches, even when it is in the ditch. 

As I get close to the next town, I meet Emily from Colorado. Ahead of her is Laila although I don´t know this until later.  I reach the next town at around 1:00.  I have only walked 20 km so far and feel I could do another 10 but I learn at the Albergue that the next town is 18 km away.  There is no way I can do that this afternoon.  I already have two new blisters from today´s walk – I am sure it is the pebble paths I am walking on that twists and turns my feet in every direction. So I decide to check into the Albergue and call it a day.

Another empty town.  Where is everybody?

A real shell embedded in the sidewalk to point the way.

Guess who is in front of me checking in? Yup, Laila.  We head out to the local restaurant along with Emily and enjoy a relaxing afternoon having a couple of beers on the patio sharing Camino stories.  I have them in tears when I tell them about Nella in Granon, her Camino story and her birthday party in the Church.  It feels good to relax and rest, I think my body and especially my feet need it.

This notice caught my eye in the albergue – I even took a photo
so that I had the schedule on hand….just in case. 

Next we stock up on provisions in the only shop in town.  This is the tiniest shop I have been in, run by a very tiny man.  He is very sweet and helpful, showing us items he thinks we might like.  I settle on some fruit and yogurt, cheese and some olives, which will be plenty to keep me going tomorrow.

I have another nap and then we all go out for dinner together, along with a German girl who has checked into the Albergue.  We are tired and conversation is rather subdued over dinner.  We are  in bed and asleep before 10:00.

The German girl is sitting next to me (don’t remember her name),
Laila is across from her, and Emily is across from me. 

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From Villacazar de Serga to San Nicolas del Real Camino (38.2 km)

I am awoken this morning by a firm hand shaking my shoulder.  What? What? I mumble.  You must get up now. It will be a hot day today and you must start early before it gets too hot.  I sleepily turn  to see Alarco´s earnest face.  I grumpily turn my back to him and say: What I need is more sleep. But it is too late, I am awake.

I had a bad night last night. My stomach was off and I woke up several times with diarrhea.  And I had a bad case of insomnia. After just a few hours of sleep I awoke and I couldn´t quiet my mind enough to go back to sleep.  Finally around 5:00 am I fell asleep only to be awakened an hour later.

I feel crappy today.  I walk to the first town with Marco, the Lithuanian man who tells me more about his life story.  He really appreciated our dinner conversation and it encouraged him to open up. He had an abusive past with an alcoholic father and a co-dependent mother.  He could relate to the issues I am struggling with in my marriage as he has faced similar problems in his relationships.  He is very self aware and insightful and so interesting to talk to.

We stop for a coffee at the first town where I again run into Chris.  I am dying to tell him I have discovered what is next in my life, but he is engrossed in conversation with Richard, an Australian vineyard owner.  I just mention to him that there´s something I want to share whenever we get a chance down the road so literally down the road, when I stop for a lunch break, he stops and joins me.

I share my news and my excitement is contagious.  But there is lots to think about and to figure out now.  Do we continue travelling?  Do we start making plans now to go home?  And what about Chris?  What does he want to do?  Chris is ready to follow me and support me as I pursue my dreams and I get annoyed by this.  Why is he so willing to sacrifice his own dreams for me? He thinks he is being noble but I feel like he is hanging on my coat strings.  And there we leave the conversation for now.

We walk together along this 17 km long, flat and boring road that seems to go on forever. I am struggling today.  I am tired, my feet hurt (what´s new), and my stomach is upset.  All I want to do is lie down by the side of the road and curl up into a ball.  But I just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Chris sees I am having a hard time and tries to take my bag from me but I stubbornly refuse his help although I do hold hands with him, mainly to help me stay standing and focused. Chris,on the other hand, seems to be doing great.  When we finally reach the next town, I am done, can´t walk another step.  Chris is ready to continue on to the next town 6 km away.  Erin and Cameron are here too and are getting ready to walk on.

When I check out the Albergue, it is one of those large open dorms with 80 beds in one room.  It´s awful and I cannot bear the thought of staying here when I am feeling so poorly.  Chris suggests I take a taxi to the next town.  Finally we end up taking a taxi together to a town about 15 km away because we like the description of the Albergue there.  It only cost 15 Euros and was worth every penny.  I think Chris is a little worried about me and wants to stay close; I´m a little worried about me too so I don´t mind the support at all.

The Albergue turns out to be just as described, a modern building with beautiful facilities.  We are given a dorm with 3 bunks and we are the only ones in it.  After the usual routine (although Chris takes care of my laundry for me), I head to bed for a nap where I sleep deeply until dinner time.  Chris awakens me and I reluctantly get up and eat a little, and then go straight back to bed where I sleep soundly through the entire night.

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From Itero de la Vega to Villacazar de Serga (28 km)

It is a late start to the day as Chris and I are not in any rush to leave our lovely, private room.  I leave before Chris at around 8:00 am and I reach the first town around 9:30 where I am disappointed to find no restaurant.  The tall, dark and handsome fellow from Leah´s stolen walking sticks story is walking behind me with a priest, I think from Portugal.  I can´t remember if I mentioned but this is the same man that the Irish nurses were swooning over in Granon, claiming they couldn´t possibly sleep with such a gorgeous man on the mat right across from us.  Those girls even went to the Prayer Service, in part, I think, to try to impress Mr. Gorgeous as we have all concluded he is very religious and might even be training to be a priest.  Anyways, I digress a bit, but it is this same guy who tells me there is an Albergue off the main road, next to the church from where he and the priest have just emerged.  They stop to pray in every church along the way.

I am grateful for this piece of information as I am dying for a cup of coffee.  The albergue is like a little piece of heaven, tucked away from the road.  I walk through the main gate into a courtyard with a beautiful garden full of unique sculptures.  I see David who I met a few days ago, and he tells me he is taking a rest day in this quiet oasis.  The gardener comes up to greet me in English and offers to make me breakfast.  As I sit down to a huge omelette, salad, bread and the biggest cup of coffee I have seen on the Camino, David comes inside and sits down for a little chat while looking for a pen.  We share our experiences and some information about ourselves.

One of the best breakfasts I enjoyed on the Camino.

David works in the field of psychology and is winding down his career in the government while ramping up his private practice where he specializes in couples counselling, the same field my daughter is studying.

During our conversation, I go out on a limb and I share with him my thoughts about changing careers into the field of organizational psychology.  I ask him for his professional opinion and he gives me a very thoughtful reply.  At 60, he sees me as quite young (age is so relative) and so doesn´t even consider that to be a factor in the decision.  He talks more about the logistics and the practical matters of making a living.  But as we talk, he observes how passionate I am when I am talking about this subject and really encourages me to pursue it.  Then he suggests that given my corporate background, perhaps an MBA or Executive MBA program would get me the needed credentials more quickly.  He said there are several that offer specialities in organizational psychology and international development.  He suggests I might be interested in working with NGOs to help them get better organized, to become more efficient and effective in order to get the most value from donor dollars and the biggest return on investment for their recipient communities.

As soon as he mentions this, I am so excited.  First, finding a way to short track getting the credentials appeals to me.  I want to get into this field as soon as possible.  Second, the idea of working with NGOs is exactly the kind of thing I think would give me a sense of purpose and meaning in my work.  All of a sudden, I know what I want to do next with my life.  Just like that, my question has been answered.

I actually get rather emotional while talking to David, but can´t explain why.  I am just overcome with relief that I have figured this out.  We have talked for one and a half hours and now I must get back onto the Camino.  As I walk, I formulate a plan in my head.  First, find a good MBA or Executive MBA program.  If going the Executive MBA route which would be my preference, I can continue to work, and hopefully get my company to support my efforts in some way or another.  Then, I would like to transition into this new field of organizational change management within my own company, either supporting my company as they go through internal change, or by developing and leading a new consulting business  line in this domain.  Then once I have some years of experience under my belt, I can branch into consulting for NGOs and continue this until I don´t want to work anymore.

My brain is racing with ideas, and I can hardly wait to get back home to start sharing these ideas.  For the first time since leaving Ottawa, I am ready to go home.  Maybe not literally, this instant, but when we are finished our travelling, I am ready to go back home.  Wow, this is very powerful for me.

As if this isn´t enough to think about, I am also thinking about how Chris and I have been criss-crossing (ha ha) our paths on the Camino.  I had thought that when we said good-bye in St. Jean Pied de Port, the next time I would see Chris would be in Santiago…..I did not understand the way of the Camino.  Each time our paths cross, something happens between us, sometimes good and sometimes bad.  I never expected relationship issues to surface on the Camino and it has taken me quite off guard.

But it is an interesting experience because we come together, something happens (good or bad) and then we part and go our separate ways, often  several days pass until we meet again.   And there are many hours to think about things on the Camino.  The Camino gives me some clarity and I see there are changes I want to make within myself in the context of my marriage.  I need to better respect the place I am at in my personal journey and not hold myself back because Chris is in a different place.  I see that I do this often in both small and large things.  For example, I want to visit India on this trip but Chris does not.  I simply accepted that we would not go to India.  But now I ask myself why can´t I go to India and Chris go somewhere he wants to go?  Why can´t we find a compromise?  Why am I so willing to defer to others at my own expense?   I think we both need to individuate more in our relationship, to be more whole as individuals, while still remaining close as a couple.  I think I have lost a sense of myself in our coupleness and I want to regain a better balance in this area.  This is all tricky business because patterns are so deeply engrained, but I know that now that I see some of these patterns, I will work on changing my part in them.  This is pretty heavy stuff.

I finally reach the town of Villacazar de Serga.  I was so busy thinking today that I actually didn´t mind the long, boring walk that followed a highway for most of the day.  The temperature is comfortable even though the wind was still very strong today.

I arrive at the municipal albergue to find a few people that I know – Damien, the French speaking Belgium with whom I have been practicing my French, Leah (walking sticks) is here and Erin and Cameron are here too.  I thought they would have gotten further but Erin got some bad blisters and in fact walked the last 8 km in her flip flops, with Cameron gallantly carrying her pack the entire way.  We all watch as Damien plays doctor and drains her blisters.  It´s actually quite gross but we are all equally fascinated by it.

Yoshida, or Crazy Yoshida as he calls himself, is a 72 year old Japanese man who I have run into a few times along the Camino.  This is his fourth Camino and he is in incredibly good shape, even though he smokes a lot.  When I first met him, I made a comment about his smoking, and he smiled at me as he lit up his third cigarrette and said, I only smoke one cigarette a day.  Every time I see him resting, he is smoking his one cigarette for the day 🙂

Anyways, Yoshida makes dinner every night where he is staying, and he makes enough for everybody.  Japanese soup and steamed rice.  So he tells us he is cooking tonight.  There are 10 of us by now so we decide to go to the store to get some more ingredients for a salad, some bread, cheese, sausage, and wine.  It turns into another feast.

There are several new faces at the table: Charley from Germany who is a rather sad faced older man who speaks quite good English, Ana from Spain, Marco from Romania, and another man in his mid-30´s from Lithuania.  After dinner, we are talking about some of our Camino experiences.  The young people get up and do the dishes but us older folks continue to sit around.  I share some of things I have been thinking about regarding my marriage, and some of the things I am struggling with.  It is quite personal what I am sharing and everyone is listening very attentively.  They are all very understanding and share their thoughts too.

After dinner, each of them approach me privately and thank me for what I had shared; in some way, what I had said touched each one of them directly and helped them in their own situations.  It was remarkable how just sharing oneself can be a gift to others.  Charley said that he now understands his girlfriend better, that she had been trying to explain to him exactly what I talked about but he couldn´t hear it from her.  Marco revealed to me that he was a recovering drug addict, 6 months clean.  He was walking the Camino as a way to give thanks to the sisters who helped him in his recovery.  He has nothing, but cherishes moments like the one we had at dinner because it makes him feel accepted and part of a family.  The fellow from Lithuania (can´t remember his name) shared a little about his abusive past and how his mother was codependent and sacrificed herself for everybody else.  What I shared made so much sense to him.  And then there was Ana.  I didn´t learn too much about her story, but she completely understood the issues I was grappling with as she was doing the same.

This is a memorable day on the Camino….the day I answered my question, what´s next?  I can harldy wait to run into Chris again to share with him my news, I am so excited about it.  And I want to share it with him before I write about it on the blog.  But who knows when our paths will cross again.

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From Hontanas to Itero de la Vegas (20 km)

I am on the road at 6:30 this morning, nice and early.  It is very cold today but there is no wind, at least not in the early morning as the sun rises over the hills. Soon the wind picks up and it is relentless for the rest of the day.  I walk alone to the first town, 9 km away.  I have decided that the best coffee for the day is in the first open restaurant.  You never know when you will find another restaurant.  So I stop and enjoy a coffee and a tortilla which is my favourite Spanish tapa, a egg and potato mixture that is cooked into the shape of a pie.  I meet Chris in the coffee shop and we decide to walk the next 11 km together.  This is the first time we walk together on the Camino.

Chris walks quite slowly, but he is steady.  I walk much more quickly but I stop a lot more frequently, to put on a jacket, to take off a jacket, to rebandage my feet, to have a coffee, to write in my journal.  Really any excuse to take a little break.  But this morning we walk at Chris´ pace, slow and steady.  I am still barefoot in my sandals and I am feeling the strain on my feet.  Even the bones are starting to hurt.  I decide to try my hiking shoes for the last hour and I am surprised that I can get my feet into my shoes and that my feet actually feel better.  At least they are warm and dry.

For the most part, the Camino was flat today except for this one big hill.

As we enter the next town, storm clouds have collected and the winds have picked up.  We decide that we will stop here for the day even though we have only walked 20 km and it is just noon.  We have had a good talk on the Camino and have cleared the air from yesterday.  We are thrilled to find a private room with a double bed and two singles.  For 21 Euro we can have the whole room for ourselves.  Sold!  What a treat to have some space to spread out and to have some security too.  Of course, the pleasure that comes with privacy goes without saying 🙂

We go through our usual routines – shower, laundry, beer and food.  We get all our clothes washed in a washing machine for just 3 Euros.  By the time they are washed, the storm as blown over and the sun has come out.  They dry very quickly on the line in the backyard.  There is a computer in this Albergue with internet and it only costs 1 Euro per usage, unlimited time.  I only manage to write one blog entry because the computer is so slow I just give up.

Erin and Cameron, a young Irish couple arrive later in the afternoon.  Chris and I both know them individually, and now we visit with them as a couple.  It must be strange for people.  We all have dinner together at the Albergue; the Pilgrim´s Menu is a bargain at 8 Euro.  The food is quite good but the wine is undrinkable.  I have been bumping into Cameron and Erin for a few days now and each time I see them, I get to know them a little better.  Erin is a lovely girl, just 22, very pretty, smart and articulate.  She has been plagued with all kinds of issues on the Camino – allergic reaction to mosquito bites, bed bugs, sun burn (she is very fair), and a cold.  She has had more than her fair share of pain.  I learn that she has just finished journalism school and has a job writing a weekly column for a local paper.  I think her biggest challenge right now, and perhaps this is the reason why she is walking the Camino, is to come to terms with her hearing loss.  She reminds me of Tricia who we met on our Antarctica Cruise who also lost her hearing as a young girl.  Tricia proved that it is possible to live a full life even with a hearing impairment.  I hope Erin finds peace and acceptance with her hearing loss, and finds a way to live life to the fullest.

Erin tells me the story of the stolen walking sticks.  Her friend, Leah had parked her sticks outside a restaurant door which is the custom on the Camino.  When she left the restaurant, her sticks were gone.  She was upset because these were good sticks.  But the next day, Erin and Natasha (another Camino friend) spotted Leah´s sticks in the Albergue and together with Leah they confront the woman who is now holding them.  This older, Spanish speaking woman claims she can´t understand them and tries to pay them no attention, I guess hoping they will go away.  But they persist.  They pull out their phones and show pictures of Leah with her walking sticks, the very sticks the woman is holding.  It is very obvious that they have caught the thief red handed yet the woman defiantly takes the sticks and puts them in the bottom of her pack.  The girls are angry at the nerve of this woman. As tempers begin to flare, a tall, dark and very handsome Italian man (I think this is the same guy the Irish girls were swooning over in Narana) intervened on their behalf, talking to the woman in Spanish.  After a rather heated discussion, the woman reluctantly relinquishes the sticks back the Leah, the rightful owner.  I take this story to heart and I am even more determined than ever to guard my high quality walking sticks.  Good walking sticks are a hot commodity on the Camino!

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From Burgos to Hontanas (29.5 km)

I wake up late this morning after a really good, long sleep.  I am amazed at how good my feet feel this morning.  I only feel one pain point this morning so I decide to keep walking and not stick around to buy running shoes.  I wonder if I´ll regret this decision.    I am on the Camino at 7:30.  It is a dreary Sunday morning and within a few moments it starts to rain.  I put on my plastic poncho with the help of a passing pilgrim – it is definitely a two girl job to get this poncho organized around my pack.  It covers my pack nicely and comes down to my knees in the front.  I think it is going to be ok.  It is cold today and I must keep walking fast to stay warm.  It is such a dull day, the kind of day you would love to just curl up on the couch with a good book and cup of tea or hot chocolate.  It reminds me of the many Sunday morning runs I have done with my sister Sonja.  We have run in all kinds of weather – storms, blizzards, biting cold, searing heat.  Nothing stops us on our Sunday morning runs.  I´ll never forget the first time it was raining when I first started running with her.  I had the nerve to call her up early in the morning to see if we were still running.  Of course, she told me perhaps a little tersly, you´re not going to melt in the rain you know.  So I imagine this morning is just like one of my Sunday morning runs and I even have a conversation with my sister (in my head of course).  There is just so much to talk about!

I spend some time thinking about how I am inclined to put the needs of others ahead of mine.  And I try to take care of other people´s feelings. On the surface this seems like noble behaviour, but when I keep putting my own needs to the side, then anger and resentment can easily take hold.  I see I need to work at being more balanced, taking care of my needs and the needs of others.  It does not need to be mutually exclusive.  Lots of thoughts are going through my mind after meeting up with Chris yesterday in Burgos.  We didn´t leave on the best of terms, and I feel unsettled by this.

For the most part, I walk alone today, but for an 8 km stretch I walk with Dave, an American from Virginia.  He is walking with this 22 year old daughter Julie but today she is walking with her new Camino friends and he has gone ahead to give her some space.  When I ask him how he is doing, he proceeds to unleash a long list of things he is stressing about.  I will call him ¨stressed out Dave¨from now on. He is a commercial airline pilot who has been doing his dream job since he was young.  Not too many people can claim that these days.  Dave seems to like to keep things on the surface and is even a little aloof, but we pass the time telling each other funny stories.

I walk alone the rest of the day.  It rains on and off all day and it is really windy and cold.  My poor poncho is not holding up well as the wind is ripping it to shreds.  I guess you get what you pay for!  Finally, I take the poncho off as it is just useless at this point and I rejig it into a backpack cover, quite effective too.

My cheap poncho seemed fine at the outset.

It´s a long day of walking and the weather isn´t all that great but I still am in pretty good spirits.  My feet are holding up pretty well, although they are cold – still barefoot in my sandals.  I enter Hontanas at around 3:30 pm ready to call it a day.  As I get myself checked into an Albergue, Chris walks in with some of his friends.  He had arrived about an hour earlier and was staying in the Municipal Albergue down the street.  It´s a little awkward bumping into him again when we just saw each other yesterday.  It seems everyone I know already knows Chris and vice versa.  We get news about each other through these mutual friends.

We are staying at different Albergues and we eat dinner in different restaurants and hang out with different people.  It is rather weird since it is a very small village, I can see Chris down the street eating his dinner with his friends.  But I enjoy having some space and appreciate that he has respected my need for space even though he doesn´t really like it or understand it.  And so ends another day on the Camino.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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……

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