Wednesday 6th June
I got up after the nice old man trod on my face and went downstairs to eat my breakfast of stale bread. I had a lovely conversation with Chexie about how I quite fancy the idea of running my own albergue (refuge) one day. My idea came to me last year when reading Nicholas Christopher's A Trip to The Stars. A book of exceptional depth and beauty. A main character owns a hotel on the outskirts of Las Vegas and loves it because he's now too old to travel about so he lets people come to him. I adore being a house keeper (which is why living out of a big bag is so radical for me, though it keeps the dusting down) and I thought it would be lovely to run a small hotel or B&B one day (like when I grow up). But after having met so many incredible people on the Camino, I think running an albergue would be wonderfully rewarding. Who knows if it will ever happen. If it doesn't, I may have to write a story about one instead. Anyway, Chexie told me she thought it was a great idea because I'm, "Just the sort of person people would love to meet". Totally flattered, we became very good friends (yes it is that easy!).
Ego happily inflated, I met with Elaine and we set off into the sunrise.
It was a sharp climb but we went at a hell of a pace. After about 7km we stopped in the first small town which had a shop and some bread. I went in and asked for coffee. "No hay" was the reply (there is none). I asked where I could get a coffee in this town. "No hay" he said again. The town had no coffee. At that moment Chexie strolled by and I explained there were no beverages except fizzy and/or sugary drinks. "I'm not stopping until I find tea," she declared, and marched off up the hill. We pressed on too, and arrived in another village with a very cute doggy and no people. I talked to the doggy for a bit, who'd obviously clocked that the pilgrims come through at a certain time of day and was therefore sitting in the middle of the deserted main road waiting for attention. He got a lot. He was the most peaceful animal I've ever encountered and I wondered if it was a test (I've always been nervous of animals following several years of growing up with a neurotic and unpredictable black labrador who kept getting into fights). Well I'm cured either way. I want that dog.
Soon enough the disaster waiting to happen struck and the 'little' blister became a nightmare. I pressed on throughout the day but the last few kilometres were absolute torture. I arrived at Estrella, just 23km or so in to my 45km attempt. And I could go no further. Normal people were packing it in for the day anyway. Elaine and I said our goodbyes and she carried on. I hobbled into the Albergue, meeting up with all the usual suspects again, and examined the damage.
Now, I took a photo of this, but it's simply far too disgusting to post on here. My toe had swelled up in blister literally 3-4 times its normal size. And it was yellow. Ugly yellow. It was time for surgery. I attacked it with needles and disinfectant. But tragically, walking for me was over for the next two whole days. In all the time I was walking I experienced various aches and pains, some enough for pain-killers, but at no point did anything come close to the Toe of Evil.
This could have been avoided if I'd broken my shoes in for more than 2 days before the start of my journey. But that would have meant buying them in Spain which could have been far more dangerous because my Spanish is not advanced enough to demand the correct thing. Fortunately, after two days off, I was fit to walk again and my shoes became my best friends.
Thursday 7th June
Myself and other fellow cripples, Marcus (Sweden), Celine (France) and Christian (previously mentioned) hobbled (oh so literally) down the cobbled (very pretty but a total bitch to walk on with sore feet) road and got the bus to a main pilgrimage site...
The Fountain of Wine
Yes it does exist. I drank some at 8.25am. I have proof:
Just one of the many random Spanish things there are on the Camino. It's meant to give pilgrims strength to get to Santiago. Can't see how. We all became even more useless than before.
We caught another two buses (oh ho ho getting around Spain is FUN) and got to the albergue feeling exhausted. We were now in a place called Los Arcos, which has one of the most exquisite churches I have ever seen in my life. Because we were all together again that night, we ended up sleeping together pretty much. The bunks are sometimes pushed together to make what looks like a double-decker-double bed. I laughed at Simon and Daire who looked rather snug. "This is the second time we've slept together," I was informed. As I was going to sleep, I heard this exchange from them,
- Goodnight Thelma.
- Goodnight Louise.
I giggled myself to sleep.
Friday 8th June
Chexie decided that she needed a 'bus' day having walked all the way from France an'all. So she joined me on the Friday morning. The bus, rather inevitably, did not go at any remotely useful hour so we waited until around 11am (having been thrown out at 8am by a stern cleaner) and we took the opportunity to have a relaxing coffee/breakfast in the warm sun. Chexie did some new age healing mumbo-jumbo on my foot which was in keeping with the whole 'magical' camino deal. Well it worked. I walked the following morning! We got the bus to Logroño, a big city. That day it was 40c (104f) and a bit much to be honest. By chance she and I met up with Simon, Daire and Christian again, and we decided to stay as a group and go on to a smaller, more interesting place called Naverette. It meant yet another short bus ride, but the motivation was that the albergue in Logroño was full, and Naverette was another 10km (6/7 miles) walk. So I arranged tickets and whatnot for everyone, which was quite stressful because I can barely cope by myself with Spanish transport, but I managed. Swore a lot, though.
Alas, when arriving at Naverette, we discovered the albergue there was also full. But the man in charge whipped out his mobile phone and called his mate, who picked us up in a car so old it still had a choke, and took us to a 16th Century castle in a place called Sortes. It was a bit more expensive. 12 euros for bed and breakfast - but they were REAL beds with sheets and stuff. A night without a sleeping bag!!! And we were staying in a CASTLE. The cellar was full of wine. The region was Rioja, so naturally this family were making Rioja. They were also having a dinner party. The older brother of the family showed me around the extensive wine cellars. I asked him if there were any (and I mimed a ghost at this point, not knowing the Spanish for ghost), and he said, "Only me, woooo" and wiggled his fingers. I decided to get out of the cellar.
They had a good store, so for another 12 euros between the 5 of us we ate like kings. Having been in a city earlier, I took full advantage of the supermarket and bought baked beans, thinking I'd have a kitchen that night. Well, I had a microwave. So I cooked for the 5 of us - baked potato with beans (Christian contributed a tin), chicken soup for starter, and salad. It went around beautifully. And I love cooking for people so I enjoyed myself and then left them to wash up.
I stumbled outside where a storm appeared to be whipping up, but the Spanish were ignoring it as ever and sitting under a gazebo eating. I spoke to them in Spanish and they were stunned. (Most pilgrims can't speak Spanish). I was instantly invited to partake of their food and sit with the lord of the manor. I couldn't have refused, even though I was SO full up. They gave me their home-made wine which blew my head off. Then they gave me their home-made Vermouth which blew everything off. I was then given home-made tortilla (and that is such a treat, since the food was so bad for the whole journey, and really, it was made by the father of the house and was exceptional). It was getting painful but it would have been so rude to refuse! Then they brought out some bull. Yes. I ate bull. Never had it before. But again it was freshly prepared and brought out by their 'help'. I had a piece and it was divine. Shortly after that, more of their friends arrived and the guy next to me started to introduce me as his wife (mi mujer) literally my woman, one of the less attractive aspects of the language I feel! I laughed and chatted for as long as I could but then it was time to go back to my friends, so I thanked them, stood up and fell over my chair. Damn home-made alcohol! Fortunately Simon was at my side and he caught me. I tried not to look drunk and English (the two are rather inseparable, however) and staggered off to bed feeling markedly daft.
Saturday 9th June
I climbed out of bed and decided to walk. I was slower than everyone else all day and trailed behind them listening to love songs on my mp3 player, but I made my little way all the same. The path that day lead us to Azofra. It was again hot so I put my white cotton scarf over my head to protect my neck and shoulders. Chexie said I looked like Mary Magdalene. I don't think Mary Magdalene ever wore hiking boots, though. For the entire, hot, long walk, I thought of nothing other than an ice-cool pool to plonk my feet in.
As if by magic, we arrived at the albergue. The only one in 4 weeks to have an ice-cool pool to plonk one's feet into. It was not big enough to swim in - it was like a paddling-pool really. About 3 ft high and 1.5 metres squared I'd say. It was just what I'd had in my mind. Daire coined it, with,
"This is the best thing in the history of humanity."
We all sat there, easing our feet. The simplicity of cold water being a luxury greater than anything else in the world!
That night, a Saturday night, we went out for dinner to risk another "Menu The Pilgrim". I enjoyed translating for people, and it was great - the five of us chatting and socialising over some food, rather than while walking and trying to breathe and move and stuff. We somehow got onto the subject of inappropriate things. I'd been talking about internet dating - something I tried last year. I explained I got fed up with the guys trying to kiss me so early on and that I needed to know someone for more than 3 hours before I got that intimate. They all laughed at that. I then went onto to say how I'd been utterly mortified when walking down London's Oxford St (main street) a couple of years ago. I walked past a shop which seemed to have cute teddy bears just inside the main doors. I walked in mesmorised (total sucker for the cute and cuddly) and had a closer look. With utter horror I suddenly realised the teddy bears had erections. I then realised I was in a sex shop. I then ran out. That had them giggling. It's totally true though. I may have even picked one up. I didn't know teddy bears had penises, let alone erotic thoughts. And it was something like 2 o'clock in the afternoon. They should have been at a picnic, not in a sex shop. I've never got over it!
One of the best things about that particular albergue (despite the pool of joy) was that all rooms were for two people. So Chexie and I had a private room to ourselves. It couldn't have been tinier, but it was fine.
Sunday 10th June
I hadn't slept well due to a dog barking and a storm thundering all night long. The morning arrived and with it, pain. My toe hurt badly again. However, there were no buses from this town. So I had to walk. The coffee machine had run out of coffee. I grumbled along in the rain scowling like a unreasonable 3 yr old. Eventually the rain cleared and the scenary became, well, perfect. We came to a point in the path where we all stopped for a moment. We recognised it. In front of us was the view in the picture of Daire's guidebook (the most used English guidebook). It was this:
Wow. Said we all. (And I had to resize it for this blog. Full sized it's just something else.) Then we continued along for a very long time - I again far behind, lurching and staggering up the path. It was in this exceptionally beautiful countryside that I was forced to urinate near a vineyard. I later confessed this to my father who speculated that it may indeed give Rioja 2007 the kick it needs.
We came across a housing site (in the process of being built) and ate stale bread in a concrete structure out of the recurring rain. Then we saw a sign for coffee and followed it like the 3 wise men to the Star of Bethlehem. Caffeine is a powerful drug. After I took that, I flew along at warp 9 ahead of everyone, marching along to Madonna's album Confessions on a Dance Floor. The blisters had been beaten into submission and were no match for a Spanish coffee. I arrived in Santo Domingo before everyone else.
That was our last night together. The next day, Daire and Christian needed to get a bus to Astorga, cutting out the centre part of the camino (Burgos and Leon), in order to get to Santiago within their respective schedules. Myself, Chexie and Simon would go on together for a day or so before also separating. We'd quickly become aware that as happy as we were together, a trip with friends is not the purpose of the camino. Or at least it wasn't for me or Chexie. I for one needed some alone time to absorb the experience, though if the other two hadn't been going their own way, I wouldn't have left the group at all. I loved it. It was great fun and a perfect dynamic of differences and spices and characters.
We all slept close together again that night. Giggling ourselves to sleep again, and looking forward to a new phase of the camino.
"Goodnight, Thelma," I said to no-one in particular.
"Goodnight, Louise," said Chexie.
PART FOUR
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