career break

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.

From Cerauqui to Los Arcos (35.6 km)

Sore feet are my companions on the Camino today.  I get up around 6:00 which seems to be the norm now and I make two crucial errors before I even begin to walk.  First, I toss one of my water bottles into the garbage.  So far I haven´t used it because water is plentiful along the Camino.  Why carry the extra weight? Second, I decide to wear my wool socks with my sandals to give my feet some extra cushioning….what was I thinking?

At this point I have problems with both feet: a blister that is just festering on the bottom of my right toe on the right foot and pressure spots on the inside of each foot, on the bone just below the big toe.  Each step hurts but after awhile it just becomes part of the walk.  I am deluded into thinking my feet are not as bad as I had originally thought.

The scenery is beautiful today as I pass through vineyards, gentle hills, fields of wild flowers.  The terrain is easier too thank goodness.  But it is stinking hot and humid.  By 8:00 the heat is almost unbearable.

Elizabeth, the Swiss women I met last night, is ahead of me.
She is a fast walker and I can’t catch up.  I give her a nickname today:
she carries a large umbrella on the back of her pack
and she sings as she walks.  She reminds me of Mary Poppins
and I’m sure she’s going to just fly away at any moment. 

I am not in a very good mood today.  There aren´t many pilgrims around so I am stuck with my own miserable company, no one to distract me from myself. Of the few pilgrims I meet, no one seems to want to talk.  Maybe I´m not the only one in a bad mood today.

I love these markers on the ground as I pass through towns.
Each is so original like this one with the cyclist on the side. 

I walked behind this group of nuns all though a small town.
They were carrying palm leaves in their hands. 

When I reach Estella, I find a large grocery store where I buy a sports drink similar to  Gatorade and I down 500 ml on the spot.  I know I am dehyrdated and almost immediately start to feel better, even my mood starts to improve.  But I don´t think I´m really thinking straight because I´m looking for a plastic poncho and ask at the grocery store which doesn´t have one.  As I´m filling my water bottles with the sports drink, I see a camping store across the street and think that would be a good place to buy camping supplies.  Doesn´t even occur to me to go there to find my poncho.

I then pass a commercial winery that has kindly provided a water tap for Pilgrims to refill their water bottles, AND a wine tap.  Yes, a tap that dispenses wine.  Well, I fill up my water bottles with water as I know I will need it for the walk ahead, but fortuitously, I have just finished drinking a coke and have an extra bottle on hand.  So I fill some wine into the bottle and drink it slowly.  Not bad.   I only have a few sips because I still have a long way to go.

Enjoying just a taste of wine in my coke bottle at the wine fountain.

The first 13 km have gone by very quickly today, but as the sun gets higher in the sky, I go slower and slower.  I am plodding along like an old work horse and keep saying: slow and steady wins the race even though I know this isn´t a race.

Just past the wine fountain, I find this old church that
offers an escape from the searing heat.

Inside the church, I find I am alone.  I set down my pack,
take off my shoes and rest for a while. 

This is what I´m thinking about today:  I am noticing that with all the people I am coming in contact with, some attract me and some repel me.  I actually feel an energy emanating from some people – both positive and negative.  Now, I´ve heard about the concepts of energy and chakra and such things and honestly have been rather a skeptic about it all.  But now I´m actually feeling the energy of people.  It´s really weird and hard to explain.  I´ll give you a couple of examples.  A couple of nights ago, when I was in Cizur Minor, I had to pick a bunk out of about 25.  There was a handful of people already occupying beds and I was instinctively drawn towards a bed next to a woman called Layla (yes, this is the Layla from Denmark who was part of our dinner party later that night).  I felt a peacefulness about her and a soothing energy from her.  I immediately took the bed next to her and we have become good Camino companions ever since.

Here´s another example.  Last night after dinner, I returned to my room and when I entered the room I immediately felt a negativity in the room.  I was shocked because the room had felt so peaceful earlier.  And then I saw three new women had arrived and were creating a bit of commotion as they were settling in.  They spoke a language I did not understand, and they were talking loudly and harshly.  Their presence had altered the energy in the room. And I felt it strongly!  I have no idea what to make of all of this and I hope I find someone to talk about it because this is so foreign to me.

Ok, let me get back to the day at hand.  I arrive in Villamayor de Menjardin at 1:00 pm feeling in very good spirits (maybe that wine and the sports drink helped a little).  My feet are feeling bearable but maybe I´m just used to the pain by now.  Regardless, my body feels strong and I am not tired in the least.  I must decide: do I stay or do I continue on to the next town 12.3 km away?  I estimated it would take me just over 3 hours and I figured I could do it so off I went.

I am surprised to see Elizabeth is ahead of me
just outside Villameyor.

I could have stopped here and saved myself a lot of grief.

When I reach a sign that said 9 km to go, my confidence waivers.  My feet are starting to hurt in new places and the sun and heat are relentless.  There is no shade on this stretch of the Camino and it feels unbearable (later I find out it is 38C not including humidity).  One kilometre later, I must sit down and find the courage to take off my socks and assess my feet.  I don´t want to do this.  I am afraid of what I might find.  Sure enough, my baby toe is a bloody mess and new blisters have formed on both feet.  I look around at my beautiful, serene surroundings and can see up and down the Camino for miles – not a soul in sight for many kilomtres.  I am alone, alone with my messy feet, and 8 km to go.

It’s a long, lonely road with no shade, no pilgrims, just me and my blisters.

After feeling sorry for myself for a few minutes, I snap out of it and get to work with my medical kit, bandaging things up as best I can.  At this point two pilgrims show up, seemingly out of nowhere, two French ladies, a little older than me.  They stop and show real concern.  They only speak French. One is a nurse, how lucky I am.  She looks at my feet and what I am doing and says I will be ok, just go slowly.  There is nothing really she can do to help me.   But they do tell me where they are staying, they say it is really nice, and offer to phone ahead to make a reservation for me.  They are concerned that I will arrive so late that there will be no bed for me in town.  I actually decline their offer, maybe a little too rigid for my own good, as I am quite adamant that I want this Camino of mine to just happen, without any planning.

At this point, I decide to put my hiking shoes on, don´t ask me why because I don´t know what I was thinking.  Maybe I just wasn´t thinking straight at this point.  Anyways, I have to empty out my entire pack to get my hiking shoes from the bottom and I put my sandals in the bottom and refill my pack.  Within a few steps I know I have made yet another mistake but I just don´t have the energy to empty my pack again…I just want to keep walking and be done with all of this.

It is now about 4:00 in the afternoon and I am suffering under the blistering sun (haha but it really wasn´t funny).  As I hobble along in pain I wonder why I pushed myself, why couldn´t I just be content and stop at the last town.  Why do I always need to do more?

By now it has been several kilometres since the last water tap and I am starting to run low on water. Why, oh why did I get rid of that extra water bottle in the morning?  Now I need to ration my water so I devise a system to figure out how far I am going before I take a drink: 100 steps equals 10 meters.  I am trying to do math to figure out how much water to drink ever half kilometre.  Why do I resort to doing math when things get really tough, aren´t I suffering enough already?

I am relieved when I finally see Los Arcos in the distance.  I am out of water
and food.  My last snack was an hour earlier when I remembered I still had
the chocolate bar from Italy (remember, Chris gave it to me in St. Jean Pied
de Port).  It was completely melted and I ate it with my spoon – chocolate soup. 

Finally I reached the town at about 5:45 pm.  I had been on the road for 11 hours.  I must have been delirious at this point because I don´t stop at the first Albergue.  No, I decide to search out the ¨nice¨ Albergue the French ladies are staying at which happens to be at the other end of town.  When I get there, they have one bed left.  Normally, I accept the bed sight unseen, but something didn´t feel right in this place and I asked to see the room first.  Maybe it was the lady who grabbed my walking sticks covetously and kept saying how nice they were.  She showed me the room (without relinquishing my walking sticks) and it was awful – small, stuffy, full of people and their stuff.  I say no thanks.  She hangs onto my sticks as we walk back to the office and then she shows the sticks to her husband and then her elderly mother who proceeds to get up and walk around the room with them, admiring them tremendously.  I am convinced if I stay herethat would be the end of my walking sticks.

Next I go to the Municipal Albergue where I find they have plenty of beds in the dormitory which holds 30 bunk beds spaced six inches apart.  No thanks.  What is wrong with me?  Can beggars really be choosers at this point in time?  So I walk back into town (haven´t I walked enough today) and check on of the last two hostels.  The first is completely full, not even a corner on the floor to spare for me.  I then drag myself back to the first Albergue at the entrance to the town (I´ve probaly walked an extra 2 km at this point) and now I´m certain they will be full too.  I am encouraged when I walk in and find two girls in front of me getting beds.  Sure enough they had beds.

When I walk into my bedroom, there are six bunk beds and all the bottom bunks are spoken for.  As I check out my options, a young lad in front of me asks me in Spanish if I prefer the lower bunk.  Of course, I reply.  Before I know it, he has moved his stuff to the top bunk and I have the lower bunk.  I am moved by his kindness.  Turns out the two ladies who came in before me and are also in my room, are from Ireland, AND they are both nurses. After showers and laundry, they help me patch up my feet and give me strict orders: no more than 20 km tomorrow.  And then they invite me to join them for dinner.

Dinner was a hoot.  The Irish girls (Eleanor and Sinead) are so much fun! We are also joined by Alex from the States who I immediately like.  We wolf down our Pilgrim´s dinner and even eat extra ice cream.  We are so hungry.

Back at the hostel, we hang around the common area for a while, enjoying good conversation.  We finally hit the sack close to 11:00.  Another good day on the Camino!