In Burcianos del Real Camino.
Page 4 of 6
In Ledigos.
In Carrion de los Condes.
In Fromista.
Alternative title: The Rain in Spain Falls mainly on the Heads of Pilgrims
The kilometers are beginning to melt away with surprising speed, especially given the weather conditions the last few day. The last three kilometers to Hontanas today was a literal slog, the onomatopia if that word I never really appreciated until this moment. That’s what every step sounded like, the gentle descent into the gelatinous mud the subtle – sl-, the lifting of each foot a hard g of effort. The weather is also my excuse for a lack of photos from the last couple of days, driving hail and gusts of wind up to 60km/h are not conducive to pilgrimly activities like walking and photo taking. Thankfully, cresting the plateau of the meseta seems to have left the worst of the weather behind. Besides some Seattleish scattered showers, today remained thankfully overcast.
My spirit actually remains fairly intact at this point, broken neither by the long distance or driving winds. We’ll have to see if this remains the same with the monotony of the meseta in my near future. I’ve already heard multiple times that the next few days are the ones to skip, if you are going to skip anything at all. The Camino runs straight through flat farmland for several days, there is relief neither for the body for the sun nor the mind from the plain continuance of the ground.
Friendship is a thing that is not lacking on the Camino. We all have such a large shared experience, that conversation comes easily. While there is a tendency for injury to replace personality (I’ve walked with people for several days without being able to tell you more than their name and what country they’re from, while able to give you a detailed description of every cut, scrape, lesion and blister they’ve recieved in the last few days) making friends is easy. I’ve spent the last few days walking with a motley crew of fellow pilgrims. A digest:
- Nico: Italian engineer turned vagabond
- Eric: German tank captain and adjutant
- Xindi: New Zealand computer science student
- Alla: Moldovan tour guide
Needless to say, conversations amongst our little Camino family have been interesting.
In Hontanas.
In Burgos.
In Altapuerca.
In Tosantos.
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.
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