Every pilgrim I had met since Santander was there. Heina and his crew of Germans and Danes waved me over as I walked up the drive to La Naranja Peregrina. Rian and Julie lounged at a table. Jaquelyn, Matius, and Alicia smiled and looked up. The stench of cigarettes stretched for a kilometer down the road. Bottles already lined the sides of garden walls.
Rian stood up and we shook hands.
“Bro every time I see your mark on the road I know there’s hope.”
“Yeah?” He laughed. “Good to see you man, glad you all made it.”
I plopped down next to Aidan at the table in the back along with Anne Randall, Anne Domínguez, Annie, and Maddie. English, German, Spanish and universal cuss words filled the air.
Aidan turned to me.
“You gotta go sneak a peek at the paella man.”
I got up and made my way through the crowd around the corner to where a massive cast-iron skillet was being tended by a hospitalero. Yellow, green, golden-brown. Colors seemed to bloom from the hot pan and the aroma steamed out from the hutch where the paella was being made. Nuts, peppers, chicken, tomatoes, and rice, together in fellowship.
I rejoined the party. Julie the gypsy was banging on a metal pot accompanied by Thomas who wacked away at a green plastic bucket. Others banged on tables and Rian whistled over the din on his recorder. Aidan and I joined in on two ukeleles.
I played G, D, Em, C and bobbed my head.
Julie danced wildly, banging on Rian’s scooter handles with sticks. The groove was sloppy, people went in and out of rhythm and the crowd laughed. Not pro, not tight, but a lot of fun.
I sat on the garden wall, sang, and strummed the uke. Julie and Anne R. sang along and Aidan solo’d away on his ukelele.
“Well a-you done done me in your bed I felt it. I tried to beat you, but you’re so hot that I melted.”
I sang into the fading light. The hospitaleros grinned and took pictures, obviously excited that their week-old albergue had drawn such a crowd.
The stars came out in earnest and empty bottles began to spill out on to the sidewalk. The hospitaleros brought out homemade tortilla around midnight and the pilgrims all gathered for a slice. A German girl about my age named Ranyanah showed off Rian’s mark that she had had tattooed onto her calf two days before. Rian carries around a small tattoo gun just in case.
Rian, Maddie, Annie, and I set up a tent in the backyard. The albergue was full but the hospitaleros had loaned us a brand-new tent for the evening. Rian said that this was to be the tent’s maiden voyage. I think he had maidens on his mind when he said it but no one took him up on the offer.
My second time sleeping in a tent in Spain was better than the first mainly thanks to more clothing and three other people. As I fell asleep I could still hear the last of the pilgrims carrying on the party. The butterfly Julie had painted on my cheek smeared on to my hand as I slept.
I woke up the next morning wearing Rian’s jacket. Everyone in the albergue was tired but smiling. Julie had fallen asleep on the couch and couldn’t remember getting into her bed. Some were so hungover they had to bus. Everyone agreed that it was the best pilgrim party so far.