Samuel's Camino

My apologies to all of my audience for failing to post more regularly. Each morning you wake up at around 6:00, leaving the alburgue by roughly 7:00. By the time you’ve walked all day, gotten to your alburgue for the night, taken a shower, done your laundry for the day, and eaten dinner, you’re exhausted. I will also admit to a bit of selfishness, I’ve prioritized writing in my personal journal above this blog. I shall strive do better in the future.

I’ll start with the second part of this category, that of the mind. I must admit that for the majority of my days before now, my mind did not do much while walking. Pain becomes an almost overriding sensation. The steady pulse of pain up your legs, timed evenly with each step, does tend to wipe out all other thoughts.  For the last day though, I’ve had plenty of time to think while walking, a sign that I have passed from the first stage of the Camino, that of the body, to the second, that of the mind. There were times today that I actually felt a little bit bored, as strange as it sounds. Putting one  foot in front of the other for several hours at a time can eventually get slightly repetitive. It never took long though before the sight of snow capped mountains in the distance or the rolling fields of grape vines brought me back with sudden intensity: ¡I’m walking though Spain!

Food has been another thing entirely. I am enchanted by the concept of pilgrims menus, the other night, for seven euros, I was able to have papas a la riojana, leg of lamb, rice pudding, and a carafe of wine. Who cares if it’s the restaurants “extras”, it’s still a great deal. I will admit to missing my big American breakfasts, but Starbucks has nothing on the cafe con leches that have become a regular part of my morning routine. Lunch tends to be snacks as well. Rather than sitting down  for something proper, one orders yet another delicious café con leche and something to picar. Today for example, I had a delicious tortilla (something like a large potatoe omelet, much more filling than the Mexican variety) Dinner for me has tended to be a mix of menus, and whenever possible, the communal meal at the alburgue. Last night for example was a simple meal of garlic soup (neither as soupy or garlicky as it sounds) followed by eggs in tomatoe sauce, a hearty Riojana dinner. Afterwards various pilgrims broke out bottles of wine and boxes of chocolate, and it wasn’t long until the singing started, something that seems one inevitable once one reaches a critical mass of Spaniards and wine.