I haven´t written up the last few days because I have been so tired - probably because I have an infection. Today Carlos, the hospitalero, took me to the Communidad Salud Centre (community health centre) where the doctor confirmed my blisters were infected, prescribed antibiotics and ordered me to have today and tomorrow off. The doctor was free and I got the antibiotics and packets of anti-inflammatories and paracetamol for under EU10 all up.
The trip back to Villafranca was an eye opener because that was yesterday´s walk. Definitely not the 16 km in Margit´s book - closer to the 26 km in my book.
I was ok with the rest until Carlos informed me that tomorrow Margit would walk to O´Cebreiro and he would drive me and then drive me to the next albergue. That was a bit of a shocker. I had thought that I would rest until well enough and then walk. But no one asked what I wanted and I don´t have enough language to tell.
Margit is distressed because her card has stopped working. We try to arrange something with her brother over the phone but it is messy. She needs to skype the bank tomorrow so she is going to talk to the hospitaleros to see if that is possible. 26 year old Sonja, having walked all the way from Austria, is also resting here today due to the pain in her hips. She has finally come to the conclusion that she will have to stop and come back some time to complete the trip. She is emotionally more settled having decided.
The size of the box of antibiotics shocks me until I realise that I have four sachets not pills. I have been given fast acting dissolvable stuff. I keep asking should I take the first dose now and the next at seven pm and being told no, wait until seven and then take one at seven in the morning again. I take Sonja and Margit to the cafe for coffee and hot chocolate and to give the hospitaleros space then come back and sleep most of the afternoon. Margit tells me that it is from the antibiotics and I tell her again that I haven´t taken any yet. When we discuss it we realise that there has been a misunderstanding and I should have taken one this morning. Now she is worried that I am running a fever. I´d already worked that part out and am taking paracetamol. Roll on seven!
Hopefully tomorrow I will be somewhere I can write up the days a bit. Got to get something out of an enforced rest. Also I have been able to upload some photos so hopefully those who read this can also access the photos. Let me know if you can´t.
Monday 26 September 2011
Saturday 24 September 2011
Day 1 to Roncesvalles
Up at 6, stuff the not quite dry washing in, get dressed, have 2 cups of tea and some baguette for breakfast. Talk to some of the other guests at breakfast - 2 Australian women, two french couples, a French woman, an Irish woman, a German woman, a New Zealand woman, a German man, a French man, a mother and son of Korean heritage who now lived in Melbourne although he was born in Paris, two Belgian women, two Spanish speaking men, an Irishman and others.
Today's walk is 27 km. The first 20 km are up and down but rising to a height of 1500m from the 200m above sea level that is the start. The last 7 km are a very steep descent. There is only one formal stopping place on the way and that is only 8 km out. One very long, challenging and exhausting day is coming up!
We were waiting for daybreak at seven to set out as none of us felt confident about setting out in the dark on the first day. I started walking with Barbara, Eileen, Carina, LuisMiguel and Federico. As the first 23 km were uphill and rose from 200m above sea level to 1400m above sea level I knew I was going to be really slow. Carina ended up walking with me and we just pottered along. We stopped at Orison, 8 km along, and bought 'sandwiches' which were really rolls and I had a nut and fruit mix so we were set. It was absolutely beautiful at the same time as being hell on earth. The day started out misty and then stayed a bit overcast until eleven which was a blessing.
We were waiting for daybreak at seven to set out as none of us felt confident about setting out in the dark on the first day. I started walking with Barbara, Eileen, Carina, LuisMiguel and Federico. As the first 23 km were uphill and rose from 200m above sea level to 1400m above sea level I knew I was going to be really slow. Carina ended up walking with me and we just pottered along. We stopped at Orison, 8 km along, and bought 'sandwiches' which were really rolls and I had a nut and fruit mix so we were set. It was absolutely beautiful at the same time as being hell on earth. The day started out misty and then stayed a bit overcast until eleven which was a blessing.
We found water fountains at places along the way which was fabulous as it got really hot. Large groups stopped at the various fountains and we all chatted and compared experiences and those who had studied their guide books and remembered the details shared their knowledge of what was ahead with others. The big questions were how far have we come and far do we have to go? Once past Orison we were stuck with no places to stop for the night before Roncesvalles without turning back, and Orison was booked out. Not that I had any intention of turning back. So off we went. I kept getting breathless and Carina kept getting giddy. Carina had had no sleep the night before due to snorers and I was still jet lagged and wasn't sleeping well so we were a pair. Carina was an Argentinian born American and we talked all day. We stopped for lunch and picniced on a ridge with more beautiful views before heading on.
After 11km we came to Jan's van - an oasis in the desert!
to St Jean Pied de Port
I know these are out of order but it has taken some time to work out how to get them here from my tablet. I'll update the missing days as I can.
Got myself to the right station and then tried buy a ticket to Bayonne from the vending machine but it didn't recognise my travel card. I should have paid attention to that as I can't buy a recharge on the phone or an internet booster as it doesn't recognise it or my credit card. Very frustrating and leaving me feeling quite vulnerable (yes I can hear all of you less technically interested people sneering) as I had planned to use Google a lot. Anyway, I wondered around until I found a ticket seller who spoke enough English to help, got my ticket and found I was an hour early but not stressing. When they called my train to board I had to walk past an 18 carriage train first and then our train was 10 carriages. Clearly train travel is big in Europe.
Arriving at Bayonne. I walked across to the old part of town and took Photos and looked at the impressively fortified looking church. Although not tall and elegant, it looked very much part of the community with buildings butted right onto it. It was so hot though cooler in the old town where the buildings were three stories high and close together creating breezeways. Then back to the station where I find once again I can't buy automatic tickets and embarrass myself by trying to buy my ticket with pounds instead of euros. I could not understand what the poor woman was saying until I stopped listening for the words and suddenly I understood the whole sentence. I was so excited by that I was grinning broadly and she clearly thought I was crazy although she was very polite. The train to St Jean Pied de Port was almost all pilgrims. I could have just followed the crocodile. The scenery was quite pretty on the way mostly following a river.
On arrival I once again followed the wave of pilgrims to the Accueil. I was able to get my passport or credencial to have shaped along the way as my proof that I have done the journey I claim. They also gave each of us a map and written instructions for the next day and recommended somewhere for us to stay. The Refugio was already full so I had to go a pension. They told us we were the biggest day of the year. 250 people had come in that day already and 230 the day before. That's more than they had in summer in the peak time. I guess we were all trying to miss the rush! I booked in to the private Refugio which cost €12 plus €10 for dinner. Dinner was gazpacho, beef stew with baked potatoes and green beans on the side and desert all accompanied by sangria and red wine. This was my first menu del Peregrino.
Arriving at Bayonne. I walked across to the old part of town and took Photos and looked at the impressively fortified looking church. Although not tall and elegant, it looked very much part of the community with buildings butted right onto it. It was so hot though cooler in the old town where the buildings were three stories high and close together creating breezeways. Then back to the station where I find once again I can't buy automatic tickets and embarrass myself by trying to buy my ticket with pounds instead of euros. I could not understand what the poor woman was saying until I stopped listening for the words and suddenly I understood the whole sentence. I was so excited by that I was grinning broadly and she clearly thought I was crazy although she was very polite. The train to St Jean Pied de Port was almost all pilgrims. I could have just followed the crocodile. The scenery was quite pretty on the way mostly following a river.
On arrival I once again followed the wave of pilgrims to the Accueil. I was able to get my passport or credencial to have shaped along the way as my proof that I have done the journey I claim. They also gave each of us a map and written instructions for the next day and recommended somewhere for us to stay. The Refugio was already full so I had to go a pension. They told us we were the biggest day of the year. 250 people had come in that day already and 230 the day before. That's more than they had in summer in the peak time. I guess we were all trying to miss the rush! I booked in to the private Refugio which cost €12 plus €10 for dinner. Dinner was gazpacho, beef stew with baked potatoes and green beans on the side and desert all accompanied by sangria and red wine. This was my first menu del Peregrino.
The pension is a four story 16th century building~ beautiful but terrible plumbing and we were strictly forbidden from going barefoot in case we got splinters in our feet. The village was gorgeous. While wondering around I saw a plaque dedicated to the memory of a lieutenant who died a martyr for the Resistance, but his date of death was 1959 or something similar. I couldn't work it out until I realised he was a Basque separatist and was probably in ETA! Later I would realise how much this is still an issue but it never affected any pilgrims that I am aware of.
At dinner I met two women from Melbourne and earlier I had met two other Australian pilgrims, mother and son. She was born in Korea and he was born in Paris. I bet their story is fascinating but I never learn it. I meet the group I would walk with the next day (more about them later) adn Marion, the Irish strider, and Karin, a young German women whose English was great courtesy of a long stay in NZ. They would show up again later too. Of course there were many more from all over the world and I was fascinated. I attended Mass with other pilgrims but was disappointed by the rote way it was conducted. Still the blessing for the pilgrims was nice.
I slept on the top bunk with a French man in his 60's on the bottom and a French couple, Francois et Claudette, on a double bed. Getting organised was tricky- I knew the theory but not the practice. I realised I had left my towel behind and had to buy another. I was exhausted by 10.00 (lights out) but couldn't sleep as I was too exhausted and too keyed up about starting the next day.
Buen Camino to me!
Paris
Paris
my 19 hours in Paris is nearly over. Once again I am awake at 3.30 in the morning so at least I have time to write this up. I guess once I start the serious walking I will sleep longer - I won't need to worry if I have set the alarm properly either.
I barely slept last night in London due to the the other hotelnresidents partying and thought that would keep me asleep this morning but no such luck. Luckily I've had a lifetime of coping with little sleep so mostly I'm doing fine. Although as this is the first time I've been completely alone in a country where I don't speak the language I was nervous last night but this morning with the benefit of sleep I am much more sanguine. If I buy the wrong ticket and end up in the wrong place I will just stay a night and sort it out in the morning. As it is the information about where to catch this morning's train from was wrong. I thought it was clever to stay across the road from the Gare de L'Est so I could sleep in and catch the later train. Instead I have to get to Paris Montparnasse and buy a ticket to Bayonne (which I am clearly not pronouncing correctly). Then get to Bayonne in time for the last train to St Jean Pied de Port at 3.30. I had planned to be looking out the window at the passing world but much of the tracks are surrounded by walls, embankments or tunnels. Still it was visibly different enough to be clear I was in France so I can still hope to see more today before I get up close and personal and actually become part of the landscape in the Pyrenees.
I've had an interesting time with language today remembering far more vocabulary than I had realised. I could manage to work out far more than I realised. My accent is atrocious though which has led to me not speaking any French at all which of course leads to absolutely no improvement. The Parisian road system is a history lesson in itself being named after significant people in history. I did a three hour walking tour with Michael and Lauren after brunch and was surprised how much history I remembered as well.
I left the fabulous new camera and several other significant bits in my hotel room which I was upset about. Luckily Michael was able to put their photos onto my tablet so I have them with me. The poor decision making about what to take with me on the walking tour came about when, after organizing for them to meet me on arrival, they weren't there. I hadn't organised my internet access before I went and hadn't realised I had little credit left either - too little to pay for the internet booster text. So suddenly I was alone, didn't speak the language, had no cash and no phone and was desperate to go to the toilet. I found the toilets but they cost 70c. I was harassed by a young mute (maybe) girl for money which I later found out was a begging scheme but got away from that with my temper in tact. Finally went back to the arrivals spot to find Michael and Lauren just arriving. They had not set the alarm properly and slept in. Then we had to try to find the hotel without the benefit of Google maps which I had counted on. Of course we managed but started to cut it fine to fit in lunch before finding the walking tour.
Of course the walking tour was great and we certainly got to see many of the significant parts although we spent no real time on any of them. Then we had either a very late lunch or very early dinner in a restaurant recommended by the. We decided to walk to the Eiffel Tower which was impressive and debated whether or not it was beautiful. Lauren says not but it is extremely iconic. We agreed it has whatever the Harbour Bridge has. Then we got back on the Metro and found our way back I stopped to get my ticket for tomorrow and got the bad news. We stopped at my hotel then walked to theirs in Montmatre, got lost, then reoriented, found it and got organised to have dinner together. Sadly we didn't enjoy the food. On my part it was. at least partly because I was so tired.
On the way from mine to theirs, we walked up one particular street where there were groups of men congregated all up and down the long street socializing together. They were clearly mostly of African descent with some wearing the most beautiful robes. I had already noticed that there were few unaccompanied women on the street. They didn't appear to be drinking, not even coffee, and it was quire odd. Some were talking very animatedly I assumed about politics or football but Michael thought more likely about women. I wondered if the women and children were elsewhere or whether these were all unattached men. One man proudly promenaded with his identical twin sons. I noticednthat these were all men in their late twenties or older although no obviously old men. It didn't feel menacing but I was profoundly uncomfortable. I told Michael and Lauren I wouldn't be walking back that way and I got the Metro home.
Later, in Montmarte, we di d see some threatened violence with a group of younger men and then there was a large mixed group of tourists clearly partying. Many more women around but it was all about outdoor dining rather than a sense that people were living out their lives there. I kept wondering where were the locals? Mind you I didn't see grocery stores of significant size so no doubt I was missing a lot. I came away profoundly curious though. I'd love to come back and try to work it out. With the men in particular I wondered whether I was seeing patrircy in action, another culture in action, or a deeply isolated group or something else again that I just couldn't imagine.
There have been groups of men congregated on the footpath of the Boulevard outside my window all night. There doesn't seem to have been any disrurbances but I can hear them talking, and on one occasion, singing, and wonder what is going on.
Well time to get organised and go. I wonder how this will turn out?
my 19 hours in Paris is nearly over. Once again I am awake at 3.30 in the morning so at least I have time to write this up. I guess once I start the serious walking I will sleep longer - I won't need to worry if I have set the alarm properly either.
I barely slept last night in London due to the the other hotelnresidents partying and thought that would keep me asleep this morning but no such luck. Luckily I've had a lifetime of coping with little sleep so mostly I'm doing fine. Although as this is the first time I've been completely alone in a country where I don't speak the language I was nervous last night but this morning with the benefit of sleep I am much more sanguine. If I buy the wrong ticket and end up in the wrong place I will just stay a night and sort it out in the morning. As it is the information about where to catch this morning's train from was wrong. I thought it was clever to stay across the road from the Gare de L'Est so I could sleep in and catch the later train. Instead I have to get to Paris Montparnasse and buy a ticket to Bayonne (which I am clearly not pronouncing correctly). Then get to Bayonne in time for the last train to St Jean Pied de Port at 3.30. I had planned to be looking out the window at the passing world but much of the tracks are surrounded by walls, embankments or tunnels. Still it was visibly different enough to be clear I was in France so I can still hope to see more today before I get up close and personal and actually become part of the landscape in the Pyrenees.
I've had an interesting time with language today remembering far more vocabulary than I had realised. I could manage to work out far more than I realised. My accent is atrocious though which has led to me not speaking any French at all which of course leads to absolutely no improvement. The Parisian road system is a history lesson in itself being named after significant people in history. I did a three hour walking tour with Michael and Lauren after brunch and was surprised how much history I remembered as well.
I left the fabulous new camera and several other significant bits in my hotel room which I was upset about. Luckily Michael was able to put their photos onto my tablet so I have them with me. The poor decision making about what to take with me on the walking tour came about when, after organizing for them to meet me on arrival, they weren't there. I hadn't organised my internet access before I went and hadn't realised I had little credit left either - too little to pay for the internet booster text. So suddenly I was alone, didn't speak the language, had no cash and no phone and was desperate to go to the toilet. I found the toilets but they cost 70c. I was harassed by a young mute (maybe) girl for money which I later found out was a begging scheme but got away from that with my temper in tact. Finally went back to the arrivals spot to find Michael and Lauren just arriving. They had not set the alarm properly and slept in. Then we had to try to find the hotel without the benefit of Google maps which I had counted on. Of course we managed but started to cut it fine to fit in lunch before finding the walking tour.
Of course the walking tour was great and we certainly got to see many of the significant parts although we spent no real time on any of them. Then we had either a very late lunch or very early dinner in a restaurant recommended by the. We decided to walk to the Eiffel Tower which was impressive and debated whether or not it was beautiful. Lauren says not but it is extremely iconic. We agreed it has whatever the Harbour Bridge has. Then we got back on the Metro and found our way back I stopped to get my ticket for tomorrow and got the bad news. We stopped at my hotel then walked to theirs in Montmatre, got lost, then reoriented, found it and got organised to have dinner together. Sadly we didn't enjoy the food. On my part it was. at least partly because I was so tired.
On the way from mine to theirs, we walked up one particular street where there were groups of men congregated all up and down the long street socializing together. They were clearly mostly of African descent with some wearing the most beautiful robes. I had already noticed that there were few unaccompanied women on the street. They didn't appear to be drinking, not even coffee, and it was quire odd. Some were talking very animatedly I assumed about politics or football but Michael thought more likely about women. I wondered if the women and children were elsewhere or whether these were all unattached men. One man proudly promenaded with his identical twin sons. I noticednthat these were all men in their late twenties or older although no obviously old men. It didn't feel menacing but I was profoundly uncomfortable. I told Michael and Lauren I wouldn't be walking back that way and I got the Metro home.
Later, in Montmarte, we di d see some threatened violence with a group of younger men and then there was a large mixed group of tourists clearly partying. Many more women around but it was all about outdoor dining rather than a sense that people were living out their lives there. I kept wondering where were the locals? Mind you I didn't see grocery stores of significant size so no doubt I was missing a lot. I came away profoundly curious though. I'd love to come back and try to work it out. With the men in particular I wondered whether I was seeing patrircy in action, another culture in action, or a deeply isolated group or something else again that I just couldn't imagine.
There have been groups of men congregated on the footpath of the Boulevard outside my window all night. There doesn't seem to have been any disrurbances but I can hear them talking, and on one occasion, singing, and wonder what is going on.
Well time to get organised and go. I wonder how this will turn out?
Tuesday 20 September 2011
Day 19 to Santa Catalina de Somoza
A late start today. I got up, got organised and left before eight as required. I farewelled the German women I have shared a room with. The young one has just had two days off walking on doctor´s orders as she hurt her knee. The older two are following Gitte´s dream and the best friend is just along for support but is loving it. The friend is heading to Australia next European spring and we discuss places they want to see and how they could work out an itinerary that gives them both what they want.
I went to a cafe for breakfast and writing up yesterday´s blog. I ended up chatting to Kate and Raz, who are both English but living in Barcelona. Kate is a chiropracty student. Apparently there is a new chiropracty college in Barcelona which is founded by fundraising from other chiropractors, including in Australia. It appears that Australian chiropracty is among the cutting edge practitioners as it focusses on health and is holistic. Who knew? Kate has walked from St Jean but Raz has joined her for only the last three days. He´s hooked though and plans to come back to continue. Raz apparently can tell the weight of things and says my pack is about 12 kg. I point out that it already has water and food in it, so perhaps it´s not as bad as it seems? They pack sit for me while I go shopping for various things I have run out of which is lovely and makes life so much easier. Kate writes down the pertinent phrases for buying non-allergenic soap as well which I am happy to now own. I realise during our conversation that I´ve left my sticks behind. As Kate and Raz head off to the station I go get my sticks and then buy new stoppers for them which are like nothing I have ever seen and fabulous. Imagine a boot on backwards at the end of the stick to work out what they look like. They give great grip and really boost you forward.
By the time I head off on Camino it is already 12.30 ish and I wonder just how far I will get. I enjoy walking on my own but it is pretty hot. My blisters don´t seem to bother me. I stop at the first village to have a cup of tea but really to give my feet a rest. I watch the shop owner clearly working hard to communicate with another Spanish speaker. I´m puzzled and then reminded how speaking the same language simply does not guarantee communication. I think I will have to remember this experience at work. Then the shopkeeper must have seen the expression on my face as she said ´Catalini¨. Ah - that explains it! On hearing that I am from Australia the shop owner sits down to tell me about her brother and his wife who went to Australia for 6 months caravanning and blogged all the way. She so wants to do that too. I tell her it is absolutely worth it and we discuss plane fares. She tells me that I am to come back with my true love. I laugh but she insists it´s an appointment that I have to keep.
I head off again along a dirt track into a landscape of low rolling hills. You can see the hills but don´t notice the incline or descent while walking. I can see in the distance the mountains to be crossed. The Cross of Iron is up there and that is a significant milestone in the journey - more about that tomorrow.
On the way I ponder a complaint from a man who did the Camino seven years ago and is doing it again. He says that the Camino is too commercialised now. I think that is pretty funny as almost all the historical relicts are a result of the money that the pilgrims brought to medieval Spain. In fact the Camino is just recovering, especially after Franco, to come back to what it once was. I get very annoyed by elitism and that is how this comment feels to me. Is it only the ´right sort´ who should decide what a good Camino is? Does it belong to pilgrims and not to the people who´s land we cross? There is some snobbery amongst pilgrims about who started where and when and who are the better pilgrims - pretty silly. Only the pilgrim knows whether it was a ´good´ Camino and even then, many say it takes arriving home and some months to really work out what you got from it. Why shouldn´t the locals profit? How does that make it less sacred or holy or right? People who don´t want working bathrooms, comfortable beds or touristy items really aren´t required to use them surely. I bet he isn´t refusing to walk across the bridges built in the middle ages with taxes drawn from the people who were making a profit then!
Anyway after I finished my mental rant I arrived in Santa Catalina de Somoza (Santa Catalina to you and I) and it looked so nice I decided to stay. And so I get to type this up.
Buen Camino
I went to a cafe for breakfast and writing up yesterday´s blog. I ended up chatting to Kate and Raz, who are both English but living in Barcelona. Kate is a chiropracty student. Apparently there is a new chiropracty college in Barcelona which is founded by fundraising from other chiropractors, including in Australia. It appears that Australian chiropracty is among the cutting edge practitioners as it focusses on health and is holistic. Who knew? Kate has walked from St Jean but Raz has joined her for only the last three days. He´s hooked though and plans to come back to continue. Raz apparently can tell the weight of things and says my pack is about 12 kg. I point out that it already has water and food in it, so perhaps it´s not as bad as it seems? They pack sit for me while I go shopping for various things I have run out of which is lovely and makes life so much easier. Kate writes down the pertinent phrases for buying non-allergenic soap as well which I am happy to now own. I realise during our conversation that I´ve left my sticks behind. As Kate and Raz head off to the station I go get my sticks and then buy new stoppers for them which are like nothing I have ever seen and fabulous. Imagine a boot on backwards at the end of the stick to work out what they look like. They give great grip and really boost you forward.
By the time I head off on Camino it is already 12.30 ish and I wonder just how far I will get. I enjoy walking on my own but it is pretty hot. My blisters don´t seem to bother me. I stop at the first village to have a cup of tea but really to give my feet a rest. I watch the shop owner clearly working hard to communicate with another Spanish speaker. I´m puzzled and then reminded how speaking the same language simply does not guarantee communication. I think I will have to remember this experience at work. Then the shopkeeper must have seen the expression on my face as she said ´Catalini¨. Ah - that explains it! On hearing that I am from Australia the shop owner sits down to tell me about her brother and his wife who went to Australia for 6 months caravanning and blogged all the way. She so wants to do that too. I tell her it is absolutely worth it and we discuss plane fares. She tells me that I am to come back with my true love. I laugh but she insists it´s an appointment that I have to keep.
I head off again along a dirt track into a landscape of low rolling hills. You can see the hills but don´t notice the incline or descent while walking. I can see in the distance the mountains to be crossed. The Cross of Iron is up there and that is a significant milestone in the journey - more about that tomorrow.
On the way I ponder a complaint from a man who did the Camino seven years ago and is doing it again. He says that the Camino is too commercialised now. I think that is pretty funny as almost all the historical relicts are a result of the money that the pilgrims brought to medieval Spain. In fact the Camino is just recovering, especially after Franco, to come back to what it once was. I get very annoyed by elitism and that is how this comment feels to me. Is it only the ´right sort´ who should decide what a good Camino is? Does it belong to pilgrims and not to the people who´s land we cross? There is some snobbery amongst pilgrims about who started where and when and who are the better pilgrims - pretty silly. Only the pilgrim knows whether it was a ´good´ Camino and even then, many say it takes arriving home and some months to really work out what you got from it. Why shouldn´t the locals profit? How does that make it less sacred or holy or right? People who don´t want working bathrooms, comfortable beds or touristy items really aren´t required to use them surely. I bet he isn´t refusing to walk across the bridges built in the middle ages with taxes drawn from the people who were making a profit then!
Anyway after I finished my mental rant I arrived in Santa Catalina de Somoza (Santa Catalina to you and I) and it looked so nice I decided to stay. And so I get to type this up.
Buen Camino
Monday 19 September 2011
Day 18 to Astorga 26 km
Yesterday was not a happy start! Some inconsiderate so and so got up and left the room and the phone behind with the alarm on which went off at 4.30 am! Lots of unhappiness among the 30 odd people woken up. Luckily it stopped after 5 minutes. I went back to sleep then woke up to many getting up so I joined them only to find it was 5 am. What the heck; I may as well walk. They had inexplicably turned the lights out at 9 the night before so I'd had plenty of sleep.
Walking in the predawn is gorgeous and even though there was hazy cloud there was enough light to walk without a torch. The sun didn't start to rise until 7.30 and the first birdsong was 7.40. I had been the only person with English as a first language among the 40 or so in the albergue last night so I'm walking alone today again and loving it.
About 8.30 I took some more photos of the amazing Hospital de Orbigo and got a memory full message - disaster! I won't be able to take phtots for the rest of the day at least. I sent my card reader ahead thinking that the camera would connect strait to the tablet but I was wrong. I'm hoping there is a camera shop at Astorga so I can get another. The problem is today is Sunday and little is open in Spain except cafe/restaurant/bars (all one thing here).
Hospital de Orbigo has the most amazing bridge and below on the floodplain are the lists for medieval jousts! Apparently they had tournaments here long after they died out elsewhere and they still reenact them. I'd love to see it.
I walk on, rejoicing because my feet feel pretty good, for a few more kilometres until I reach Villares de Orbigo where I am met by a fellow talking Spanish at me who takes me by the arm and heads me into town. I'm a bit taken aback until I grasp that they are having a fiesta for St James and the pilgrims are invited I am taken to a private house where trestle tables full of food are laid out and other pilgrims are eating. I'm given hot chocolate and the home owner takes my pack for me. Everyone is excited that they have an Australian here and, as always, amazed that I have come so far. The owner asks me have I brought the whole of Australia in my pack and I told him Australians are tough with muscles. I thought it was funny but everyone nodded! He also showed me the garden and the layout of the house. When I was leaving he said his heart was bleeding for me putting on such a heavy pack - very pretty but I cursed him for kilometres as my pack, which I was quite used to, weighed heavy for once. The power of the mind.
The rest of the town was setting up for a market but I couldn't stay. I forgot to metion that while I was sitting and chatting there was an explosion. I nearly jumped right out of my chair but the house owner laughed and said that it was the celebration. When there is a fiesta, they ´bomb´; a baptism, they bomb; a party, they bomb; etc. I refrained from asking about the sleeping habits of babies in the village.
The remainder of the day was across country. It was the first chilly day with the clouds clearing but the crisp wind blowing sharply. I played cat and mouse with a French trio of two women and a man of about my age. The women talked non stop and sounded as if they were instructing him on how the world should be. Every time I stopped for a break they eould stop nearby so I would start again. I didn't get to rest my feet enough so my blisters got really sore plus I had hit the left one against a stone as well. I now had bleeding into the tissues around the blister as well just to add to the fun. The last few km probably took me 1.5 hours.
On the way in many people stopped to say Buen Camino and to encourage me. At the last village before Astorga an old man was sitting out by the road , obviously to chat with passers. He nearly fell off the seat when he heard I was from Australis. He told me it was just 'un poco tres km' ( a small three km) to the albergue. Very kind.
I got there evntually thanks to a fellow pilgrim who grabbed my sticks and towed me up the last hill!
The albergue was enormous and I fluked a four bed room with only women. No modesty issues - if I have any left.
I eventually found a cafe that night where I had dinner and two beers. Then I asked to pay but the fellow was watching a basketball game between Spain and France and just gave me another beer! So I just drank it before going back to the albergue and sleeping well all night. Today I am stopping to shop at the farmacia and other spots and will see at lunch time whether I am up to walking or not.
Buen Camino.
Walking in the predawn is gorgeous and even though there was hazy cloud there was enough light to walk without a torch. The sun didn't start to rise until 7.30 and the first birdsong was 7.40. I had been the only person with English as a first language among the 40 or so in the albergue last night so I'm walking alone today again and loving it.
About 8.30 I took some more photos of the amazing Hospital de Orbigo and got a memory full message - disaster! I won't be able to take phtots for the rest of the day at least. I sent my card reader ahead thinking that the camera would connect strait to the tablet but I was wrong. I'm hoping there is a camera shop at Astorga so I can get another. The problem is today is Sunday and little is open in Spain except cafe/restaurant/bars (all one thing here).
Hospital de Orbigo has the most amazing bridge and below on the floodplain are the lists for medieval jousts! Apparently they had tournaments here long after they died out elsewhere and they still reenact them. I'd love to see it.
I walk on, rejoicing because my feet feel pretty good, for a few more kilometres until I reach Villares de Orbigo where I am met by a fellow talking Spanish at me who takes me by the arm and heads me into town. I'm a bit taken aback until I grasp that they are having a fiesta for St James and the pilgrims are invited I am taken to a private house where trestle tables full of food are laid out and other pilgrims are eating. I'm given hot chocolate and the home owner takes my pack for me. Everyone is excited that they have an Australian here and, as always, amazed that I have come so far. The owner asks me have I brought the whole of Australia in my pack and I told him Australians are tough with muscles. I thought it was funny but everyone nodded! He also showed me the garden and the layout of the house. When I was leaving he said his heart was bleeding for me putting on such a heavy pack - very pretty but I cursed him for kilometres as my pack, which I was quite used to, weighed heavy for once. The power of the mind.
The rest of the town was setting up for a market but I couldn't stay. I forgot to metion that while I was sitting and chatting there was an explosion. I nearly jumped right out of my chair but the house owner laughed and said that it was the celebration. When there is a fiesta, they ´bomb´; a baptism, they bomb; a party, they bomb; etc. I refrained from asking about the sleeping habits of babies in the village.
The remainder of the day was across country. It was the first chilly day with the clouds clearing but the crisp wind blowing sharply. I played cat and mouse with a French trio of two women and a man of about my age. The women talked non stop and sounded as if they were instructing him on how the world should be. Every time I stopped for a break they eould stop nearby so I would start again. I didn't get to rest my feet enough so my blisters got really sore plus I had hit the left one against a stone as well. I now had bleeding into the tissues around the blister as well just to add to the fun. The last few km probably took me 1.5 hours.
On the way in many people stopped to say Buen Camino and to encourage me. At the last village before Astorga an old man was sitting out by the road , obviously to chat with passers. He nearly fell off the seat when he heard I was from Australis. He told me it was just 'un poco tres km' ( a small three km) to the albergue. Very kind.
I got there evntually thanks to a fellow pilgrim who grabbed my sticks and towed me up the last hill!
The albergue was enormous and I fluked a four bed room with only women. No modesty issues - if I have any left.
I eventually found a cafe that night where I had dinner and two beers. Then I asked to pay but the fellow was watching a basketball game between Spain and France and just gave me another beer! So I just drank it before going back to the albergue and sleeping well all night. Today I am stopping to shop at the farmacia and other spots and will see at lunch time whether I am up to walking or not.
Buen Camino.
Sunday 18 September 2011
travel summary
I think it is a good idea to record the walking details now while I can remember. Half the time I can't remeber where I was last night at the moment.
1. to Roncesvalles 27 km
2. Larrasoana 26 km
3. Pamplona 16
4. Uterga 16
5. Maneru 12
6. Estella 20
7. Los Arcos 21
8. Logrono 29
9. Najera 30
10. Santo Domingo de la Calzada 20
11. Belarado 23.5
12. San Juan de Ortega 30
13. Burgos 25
14-15 Burgos
16 Burgos to Leon bus
17. Villadangos del Paramo 22 km
304.5 km to Santiago but who's counting?
1. to Roncesvalles 27 km
2. Larrasoana 26 km
3. Pamplona 16
4. Uterga 16
5. Maneru 12
6. Estella 20
7. Los Arcos 21
8. Logrono 29
9. Najera 30
10. Santo Domingo de la Calzada 20
11. Belarado 23.5
12. San Juan de Ortega 30
13. Burgos 25
14-15 Burgos
16 Burgos to Leon bus
17. Villadangos del Paramo 22 km
304.5 km to Santiago but who's counting?
day 17 to Villedangos el Paramo
Absolutely nothing kept me awake last night and I ended up sleeping until 8.00 which is pretty wimpy stuff on the Camino. Margrit had gone so I took my time and ate breakfast - well student breakfast anyway. The cereal on offer was Corn Flakes or a sort of giant coco pops. I had the worst tea ever or so I thought.
I walked off on my own and had to really pay attention to find the way out of town. I walked to Virgen del Camino and finally found a computer accessories shop. It wasn't open for another 35 minutes so I memorised 'tienda informacia technica' so I could ask again in future and walked on. I tend to get lost in my thoughts when walking alone. It's a fabulous feeling but today it results in missing the turn off. It is a two day walk from Leon to Astorga and you can do it through the countryside or along the highway. By the time I have realised my mistake I am committed to the highway. A young Austrian couple tell me it's the shorter way anyway, which is no doubt best for my feet, and I realise that there is a better chance of finding a bed anway.
I stop in San Miguel del Camino for lunch and sit inside out of the sun and get to watch a Terence Stamp spaghetti western in Spanish. It was poor the first time I saw it in English but there is a senior feloow laughing at it which ups the amusement factor exponentially. I get a bocadillo (ham and cheese roll) which is enormous and has stringy red ham. I order tea with lemon not realising that means lemon cordial. Yuk!
I walk on for a few hours and stop at the albergue at Villedangas el Paramor which is half open and has about 40 beds. I get a top bunk (yuk) and a shower (yay) and wash my clothes by hand in a sink with no plug. So annoying. I realise I am running out of personal and wash soap so I head to town for a beer and to check out the shops. The cafes don't look inviting for a single woman so I give it a miss. I'll have to wait until Astorga. The god news is that going the shorter wat means it is only 26 km away instead of 30.
The best news is that when I take my socks off my blisters look excellent. The bad news is that there is a snoring man who is so loud I can't stop giggling. I can hear him in the shower. No doubt the poor man is exhausted because he struggles out of bed and onto the lounge where he promptly falls back to sleep and starts snoring again.
It is very hard to edit on this tablet and I am running out of battery so mistakes will have to be forgiven!
I walked off on my own and had to really pay attention to find the way out of town. I walked to Virgen del Camino and finally found a computer accessories shop. It wasn't open for another 35 minutes so I memorised 'tienda informacia technica' so I could ask again in future and walked on. I tend to get lost in my thoughts when walking alone. It's a fabulous feeling but today it results in missing the turn off. It is a two day walk from Leon to Astorga and you can do it through the countryside or along the highway. By the time I have realised my mistake I am committed to the highway. A young Austrian couple tell me it's the shorter way anyway, which is no doubt best for my feet, and I realise that there is a better chance of finding a bed anway.
I stop in San Miguel del Camino for lunch and sit inside out of the sun and get to watch a Terence Stamp spaghetti western in Spanish. It was poor the first time I saw it in English but there is a senior feloow laughing at it which ups the amusement factor exponentially. I get a bocadillo (ham and cheese roll) which is enormous and has stringy red ham. I order tea with lemon not realising that means lemon cordial. Yuk!
I walk on for a few hours and stop at the albergue at Villedangas el Paramor which is half open and has about 40 beds. I get a top bunk (yuk) and a shower (yay) and wash my clothes by hand in a sink with no plug. So annoying. I realise I am running out of personal and wash soap so I head to town for a beer and to check out the shops. The cafes don't look inviting for a single woman so I give it a miss. I'll have to wait until Astorga. The god news is that going the shorter wat means it is only 26 km away instead of 30.
The best news is that when I take my socks off my blisters look excellent. The bad news is that there is a snoring man who is so loud I can't stop giggling. I can hear him in the shower. No doubt the poor man is exhausted because he struggles out of bed and onto the lounge where he promptly falls back to sleep and starts snoring again.
It is very hard to edit on this tablet and I am running out of battery so mistakes will have to be forgiven!
Saturday 17 September 2011
Day 16
Spent another day in Burgos yesterday. I had to stay in a different Albergue as you can only stay one night in any one spot - fortunately there are some private ones that will let you stay if you are injured and I have fluked one of these. So I have two nights running in the same place which is great even though I am not fussed about this albergue. I'm not sure why. It has about 12 bunk beds, so 24 places and that is not considered big, but I just don't find it very welcoming. It's probably the hospitaleros, which is unfair of me as they are volunteers and often come a long way to stay for short periods making sure the albergues are open and that pilgrims have somewhere to stay. This one has two showers and two separate toilets with washing space etc and an internet connection The internet connection is supposed to be €1/30 min but you ony get 20 minutes really. The Locutario in the next street is €1.50/hour so I go there when I can.
It's quite frustrating not being able to sightsee still as I am still limping, so I spend the day on the net when I can or looking for Vodafone. All the shops are on Spanish time (which means open 1000 - 1430ish and 1700-2000) and I have to be out of the albergue by eight in the morning. I arrived at 12.10 (it opens at 12 which is reasonably early) so get to pick my bed the first day however the second day I get back at 12.45 and have to take one of the top bunks which is a pain. Late afternoons I spend sitting under an umbrella at a cafe in the Plaza outside the albergue drinking my two beers and people watching. I am restiing my feet in spite of all temptations and I'm listening to lots of Spanish and other languages.
My German continues to improve as does my Spanish. My big problem is using the right language with the person. My brain is in its usual tizz and comes up with answers in completely the wrong language sometimes. On the other hand I finally found a Vodafone shop and Ana, who says her English is so bad she's too embarrassed to use it, and we spoke pigeon Spanish and English to each other until she succeeded in connecting me up with a Spanish SIM card with data I was so excited and she clearly felt she achieved something worthwhile too! At one point she even pulled up a translation page on her screen so we could commincate better She was great and now I can tether my my tablet to the iPhone and get on the net and write up my days.
I doctored my feet again last night trying to destroy blisters and bandage them up and this morning I coould walk again It was such a relief. Mary Alice from Iowa came with me to the bus station and we put our bagckpacks in lockers. I then bought a ticket to Leon all by myself in Spanish. I was so impressed with myself. I had to laugh because there was Emma manging this stuff at 15 and here I am just starting at 51! Still I was pleased and it brings an element of intellectual challenge in to a physically challenging time. Mary Alice and I went to see the castle in the morning before I caught the bus. We discussed that tomorrow I may well meditate on how grateful I am to have a body that mostly works It hasn't always butt it iss now aand I can't tell you how satisfying it is to do something that relies on a working body!
Did I tell you the difference between Spain's Spanish and that of other Latin speakers? The Spanish speak as if they have a lisp. Acccording to Connor at some point after colonising the New World, they had a king with a lisp. As by definition the way a king does something is the right way, the court began to speak with a lisp too and then because the court dudes are the cool dudes, everyone copied them... and now all Spanish speak with a lisp. I have no idea if it is true or apocryphal but I love it and choose to go with it. I bemoan the fact that my childhood wouuld have been easier if I grew up in Spain and, of course, I find it very easy to lisp with the true Spanish speakers!
Onnce I arrived in Leon I fell in with two German women, Margit and Anke. We soon founf out that the hostels were full all over town and so were the albergues. I spoke to an Australian couple who told me that they were staying in an hotel at €66/night Too rich for a two star hotel. We saw a sign however and found ourselves in the student residence for the university. Margrit and I agreed to €24 for a single room and bathroom and breakfast with relief and delight. Anke went off to look for something cheaper! Margrit and I checked out the fabulous cathedral and found the house by Gaudi, which I absolutely loved. Now I'm in my room snacking as dinner in Spain rarely starts before eight and I am just too tired. I've done my washing and am ready to crash - a whole night without other people in my room - what a luxury! It is going to be amazing to get home into the queen size with Geoff as I've been sleeping in single beds since mid August.
Another reason for not going out is that there is a very rowdy demonstration going on. I don't know what it's about and don't care as long as they don't interrupt my sleep! Goodnight.
It's quite frustrating not being able to sightsee still as I am still limping, so I spend the day on the net when I can or looking for Vodafone. All the shops are on Spanish time (which means open 1000 - 1430ish and 1700-2000) and I have to be out of the albergue by eight in the morning. I arrived at 12.10 (it opens at 12 which is reasonably early) so get to pick my bed the first day however the second day I get back at 12.45 and have to take one of the top bunks which is a pain. Late afternoons I spend sitting under an umbrella at a cafe in the Plaza outside the albergue drinking my two beers and people watching. I am restiing my feet in spite of all temptations and I'm listening to lots of Spanish and other languages.
My German continues to improve as does my Spanish. My big problem is using the right language with the person. My brain is in its usual tizz and comes up with answers in completely the wrong language sometimes. On the other hand I finally found a Vodafone shop and Ana, who says her English is so bad she's too embarrassed to use it, and we spoke pigeon Spanish and English to each other until she succeeded in connecting me up with a Spanish SIM card with data I was so excited and she clearly felt she achieved something worthwhile too! At one point she even pulled up a translation page on her screen so we could commincate better She was great and now I can tether my my tablet to the iPhone and get on the net and write up my days.
I doctored my feet again last night trying to destroy blisters and bandage them up and this morning I coould walk again It was such a relief. Mary Alice from Iowa came with me to the bus station and we put our bagckpacks in lockers. I then bought a ticket to Leon all by myself in Spanish. I was so impressed with myself. I had to laugh because there was Emma manging this stuff at 15 and here I am just starting at 51! Still I was pleased and it brings an element of intellectual challenge in to a physically challenging time. Mary Alice and I went to see the castle in the morning before I caught the bus. We discussed that tomorrow I may well meditate on how grateful I am to have a body that mostly works It hasn't always butt it iss now aand I can't tell you how satisfying it is to do something that relies on a working body!
Did I tell you the difference between Spain's Spanish and that of other Latin speakers? The Spanish speak as if they have a lisp. Acccording to Connor at some point after colonising the New World, they had a king with a lisp. As by definition the way a king does something is the right way, the court began to speak with a lisp too and then because the court dudes are the cool dudes, everyone copied them... and now all Spanish speak with a lisp. I have no idea if it is true or apocryphal but I love it and choose to go with it. I bemoan the fact that my childhood wouuld have been easier if I grew up in Spain and, of course, I find it very easy to lisp with the true Spanish speakers!
Onnce I arrived in Leon I fell in with two German women, Margit and Anke. We soon founf out that the hostels were full all over town and so were the albergues. I spoke to an Australian couple who told me that they were staying in an hotel at €66/night Too rich for a two star hotel. We saw a sign however and found ourselves in the student residence for the university. Margrit and I agreed to €24 for a single room and bathroom and breakfast with relief and delight. Anke went off to look for something cheaper! Margrit and I checked out the fabulous cathedral and found the house by Gaudi, which I absolutely loved. Now I'm in my room snacking as dinner in Spain rarely starts before eight and I am just too tired. I've done my washing and am ready to crash - a whole night without other people in my room - what a luxury! It is going to be amazing to get home into the queen size with Geoff as I've been sleeping in single beds since mid August.
Another reason for not going out is that there is a very rowdy demonstration going on. I don't know what it's about and don't care as long as they don't interrupt my sleep! Goodnight.
Wednesday 14 September 2011
Day 14
Here I am, still in Burgos. Last night the hospitaller was quite concerned that I was walking around in barefeet. I think it is just short of rude in Europe as everyone looks surprised but I find it so much more comfortable than shoes when my feet are so tired and sore. I was really struggling to walk at all by last night and just did a shuffle - Marion calls it the John Wayne walk. It´s the walk you do when you really don´t want your feet to touch the ground! Anyway, I showed the hospitallero, Sr Marie-Helene, my blisters with the result that I was firmly told that I would be seeing the doctor in the morning!
There were two men, Salvador and Javier, who had just finished their Camino and were planning on catching the bus home to Barcelona, agreed to take me to the health centre to see a doctor and translate for me if necessary. Salvador tells me his name means Saviour but his middle name should be ¨not on any day¨. He spoke excellent English, appeared to be in his early 40s, and strode ahead most of the time while I limped behind, while Javier was much quieter, a bit younger, spoke little English and slowed his pace to mine while reminding me to be careful whenever there was a bump and winced with me when I hurt my foot. Two lovely men who plan to be volunteer hospitaleros for two weeks later in the year. They had done the first part of the Camino earlier this year, Burgos to Santiago de Compostela, and then come back to do St Jean Pied de Port to Burgos.
They took me to the health centre, I saw the almost English-speaking doctor and he prescribed anti-inflammatories and a particular kind of bandage. At the apotek (chemist) the bandages turned out to be a fancy type of bandaid and I wasn´t impressed. I had to mentally apologise once I tried them though as they are very adhesive and flexible and fit my heels and actually stay on without cutting circulation or strapping micropore around the whole foot.
The disaster though is that I am instructed not to walk for three days. Several people have warned me not to ignore these instructions. I am given to understand that this could result in septicaemia, gangrene and not being able to complete the Camino. I´m not too worried about the first two but the last would be a problem. This, of course, creates difficulties about timing. It looks like I will have to catch the bus to Leon in order to keep up with my timetable and miss the Meseta. Drat. But unlike the Europeans it will cost more than a few hours flight at EU40 to get here again so I have to make sure I finish. C´est la vie.
One of the odd issues I have is that I have a smattering of French, Spanish, Italian and German, and I tend to mash it all together and respond in the wrong language to the wrong person. I use all of them to communicate with other pilgrims who are supremely poly-national but then start getting them mixed up. I told the man in the cafe today that my omelette was ´muy bono´ instead of ´muy buen´ he laughed fortunately but clearly thought I was a bit of a nut!
Marion left this morning for Bilbao so I hope all goes well with her. We have walked together, sort of, for several days and I hope she enjoyed the company as much as I did. I wonder whether my future walking will be alone or whether there will be new companions? So far I have had three walking companion stages; Carina for a few days, Nancy and Tom for a few days and then Marion. Three really different types of people from wildly different backgrounds who really brought special times to me. I´m very grateful.
Yesterday on our way into Burgos, as I was trailling behind striding Marion, a woman approached me and told me (I think) that if I went into the local church they would give me information and maps to Burgos. I thanked her profusely and then caught up to Marion across a busy intersection and 100m up the road. Without thinking it through we decided not to go backwards so of course we ended up getting lost and adding an extra 2km to our day! Twice we asked for help and both times people stopped what they were doing, literally took us by the hand, and walked us in the right the direction. People can be wonderful and amazing, can´t they? I think I expected to find resentment of tourists, and no doubt it is there somewhere, but mostly people say Buen Camino (Have a good Camino) to us as we pass. Amongst the continual exhaustion and the aches and pains, I do feel very blessed. I write that and realise it sounds a lot like parenthood!
Having to sit around for a few days should mean that I can sight see but I´m not supposed to be walking so I won´t be able to. Drat. This city is full of sculptures and has 10 famous churches of national cultural significance plus a fabulous museum of humanity. Maybe I will hang here after all and see if I can see bits of it! In the meantime I can catch up on my notes and maybe get more stuff safely on the net! I´ll try sending post cards but am not at all sure about sending them from the post office!
Buen Camino! Ultreya!
There were two men, Salvador and Javier, who had just finished their Camino and were planning on catching the bus home to Barcelona, agreed to take me to the health centre to see a doctor and translate for me if necessary. Salvador tells me his name means Saviour but his middle name should be ¨not on any day¨. He spoke excellent English, appeared to be in his early 40s, and strode ahead most of the time while I limped behind, while Javier was much quieter, a bit younger, spoke little English and slowed his pace to mine while reminding me to be careful whenever there was a bump and winced with me when I hurt my foot. Two lovely men who plan to be volunteer hospitaleros for two weeks later in the year. They had done the first part of the Camino earlier this year, Burgos to Santiago de Compostela, and then come back to do St Jean Pied de Port to Burgos.
They took me to the health centre, I saw the almost English-speaking doctor and he prescribed anti-inflammatories and a particular kind of bandage. At the apotek (chemist) the bandages turned out to be a fancy type of bandaid and I wasn´t impressed. I had to mentally apologise once I tried them though as they are very adhesive and flexible and fit my heels and actually stay on without cutting circulation or strapping micropore around the whole foot.
The disaster though is that I am instructed not to walk for three days. Several people have warned me not to ignore these instructions. I am given to understand that this could result in septicaemia, gangrene and not being able to complete the Camino. I´m not too worried about the first two but the last would be a problem. This, of course, creates difficulties about timing. It looks like I will have to catch the bus to Leon in order to keep up with my timetable and miss the Meseta. Drat. But unlike the Europeans it will cost more than a few hours flight at EU40 to get here again so I have to make sure I finish. C´est la vie.
One of the odd issues I have is that I have a smattering of French, Spanish, Italian and German, and I tend to mash it all together and respond in the wrong language to the wrong person. I use all of them to communicate with other pilgrims who are supremely poly-national but then start getting them mixed up. I told the man in the cafe today that my omelette was ´muy bono´ instead of ´muy buen´ he laughed fortunately but clearly thought I was a bit of a nut!
Marion left this morning for Bilbao so I hope all goes well with her. We have walked together, sort of, for several days and I hope she enjoyed the company as much as I did. I wonder whether my future walking will be alone or whether there will be new companions? So far I have had three walking companion stages; Carina for a few days, Nancy and Tom for a few days and then Marion. Three really different types of people from wildly different backgrounds who really brought special times to me. I´m very grateful.
Yesterday on our way into Burgos, as I was trailling behind striding Marion, a woman approached me and told me (I think) that if I went into the local church they would give me information and maps to Burgos. I thanked her profusely and then caught up to Marion across a busy intersection and 100m up the road. Without thinking it through we decided not to go backwards so of course we ended up getting lost and adding an extra 2km to our day! Twice we asked for help and both times people stopped what they were doing, literally took us by the hand, and walked us in the right the direction. People can be wonderful and amazing, can´t they? I think I expected to find resentment of tourists, and no doubt it is there somewhere, but mostly people say Buen Camino (Have a good Camino) to us as we pass. Amongst the continual exhaustion and the aches and pains, I do feel very blessed. I write that and realise it sounds a lot like parenthood!
Having to sit around for a few days should mean that I can sight see but I´m not supposed to be walking so I won´t be able to. Drat. This city is full of sculptures and has 10 famous churches of national cultural significance plus a fabulous museum of humanity. Maybe I will hang here after all and see if I can see bits of it! In the meantime I can catch up on my notes and maybe get more stuff safely on the net! I´ll try sending post cards but am not at all sure about sending them from the post office!
Buen Camino! Ultreya!
Day 13
Day 13 and I am in Burgos. I think this is the scene of a siege by Wellington´s men in the Peninsula or Napoleonic Wars. The city refused to give in so when they lost the English army went on a rampage burning, pillaging, looting and raping. The officers were unable to get control until Wellington started hanging the looters (property being more important than women).
We limped into our albergue about 2ish today, Marion and I. My blisters are very painful and my feet are so tired and sore that they won´t sit still. I think we have walked about a third of the way. Next is the Meseta for three days - a long, hot, windy, dry, high plateau that breaks many. I´m very tired and not looking forward to it. I contemplated having two nights in Burgos but I would have to stay in a hotel as you cannot stay in the albergues in the city two nights running.
Burgos has many churches and is quite scenic (once you finish walking through the slums) but it is wasted on my because I just can´t do any walking except to the cafe for a beer and the internet shop to talk to you all.
I wrote a fabulous blog yesterday but the computer at that albergue broke down just before I hit publish and all was lost. I hoped against hope that I would find it here as a draft and I did but all the wording is in Spanish and I think I have accidentally deleted it anyway. This has been the story of my attempts to stay involved in the web world while in Spain - a sad disaster. If I sort it out I will publish it but don´t hold your breath!
We limped into our albergue about 2ish today, Marion and I. My blisters are very painful and my feet are so tired and sore that they won´t sit still. I think we have walked about a third of the way. Next is the Meseta for three days - a long, hot, windy, dry, high plateau that breaks many. I´m very tired and not looking forward to it. I contemplated having two nights in Burgos but I would have to stay in a hotel as you cannot stay in the albergues in the city two nights running.
Burgos has many churches and is quite scenic (once you finish walking through the slums) but it is wasted on my because I just can´t do any walking except to the cafe for a beer and the internet shop to talk to you all.
I wrote a fabulous blog yesterday but the computer at that albergue broke down just before I hit publish and all was lost. I hoped against hope that I would find it here as a draft and I did but all the wording is in Spanish and I think I have accidentally deleted it anyway. This has been the story of my attempts to stay involved in the web world while in Spain - a sad disaster. If I sort it out I will publish it but don´t hold your breath!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)