Day 10 (Friday 17 May) 574 kilometres to Santiago de Compostela
Last night several of us agreed to have a casual supper in the dining area of the albergue. New York Chris and I head out at 17:00 to do some grocery shopping at the local stores. Baguettes, cheese, sausage, tomatoes, cucumbers (yech), wine, and chocolate. We return towards 18:00 and claim a corner of the dining room with soft sofas. Gradually, the group drifts in and helps themselves. Partway through our meal a young Italian man takes out an instrument that looks like a small set of bagpipes and begins to play. I ask him the name of his instrument, but don't catch his response (Adrienne Quane, a world class bagpiper, will know what it is). I ask my companions whether they know the definition of a gentleman. A man who knows how to play the bagpipes but doesn't (the joke only applies to men Adrienne).
Part of our group this evening are the 2 ladies that I thought were of Jamaican origin when I first met them several days ago. In fact they were originally from South Africa, but have lived the last 10 years in St. John's. One or both are doctors. To my tone deaf ears, when you mix Afrikaans English with 10 years of exposure to Newfoundland, it comes out Jamaican. Sorry ladies; I'll look into getting my ears cleaned.
My RON in this "donativo" albergue (pay what you can afford) is very good. RON is Air Force for Remain Over Night; pronounced R_O_N, rather than sounding it like Huiber's first name. My companions tell me that some of theirs have not been so pleasant. Victoria Ali says that she spent one night dormed with several young South Koreans, who went out to party. One of the girls came back completely blotto. She vomited on the floor in the toilet area (which had to be cleaned up for her), and then spent the rest of the night retching into a bucket beside her bed. Ali didn't get much sleep.
I can't fail to notice in the middle of the night that some of the women are going to and from the toilet in underwear and a T-shirt. Yikes. I'm too shy for that. Before retiring for the night, I use one of the toilet stalls to change into Joe Boxer pyjama shorts. I like them, especially because they have 2 front pockets, where I keep my passport and my wallet. The risk of theft on the Camino appears to be very low, but it's not zero, so I take what seem to me to be reasonable precautions.
During our evening conversations, I reflect upon the Camino experience. We are all volunteers on this adventure and we extend trust and friendship to the others who are sharing it. "Paying it forward" is the norm. All of us know that we could need both the moral and physical support of others to get through this sometimes arduous experience. A few nights ago, multi-lingual German Annie told me that she had read a book that said, in essence, everyone will cry at least once on the Camino. I haven't felt anything even close to that, but it does give you fair warning that this unique adventure is more than just being physically fit enough to get it done. Lots of e-mails from family and friends help to buoy my mood each day.
The best illustration that I can offer of the Camino spirit is the rally around Calgary Lise that happened when she limped into Santo Domingo de la Calzada yesterday afternoon. She took a cab for the last few kilometres, because her "shin splints" were extremely painful and her blisters weren't far behind. She stopped at the local hospital and then went on to the albergue to consult with the on-site para-medic foot specialist (he has been looking after pilgrims here for 20 years). While he was treating her wounds, Sandra from Bathhurst, NB, held her hand; Toronto Angela (actually from Caledon; her new handle) got her a blanket; I went to the store to get her an apple; New York Chris, in the middle of dinner, went to the drugstore before it closed to get her some Ibuprofen (600 mg. tablets - 3 times more powerful than back home), and Yvonne (the Dutch policewoman) phoned ahead to reserve her a hotel room in the next closest town so that she could deal with her wounds in comfort and in private. Not only that, Yvonne also booked a room in the same hotel, so that Calgary Lise would not be alone. That's the Camino de Santiago.
In the morning, a Quebecoise in the lobby area tells me that it's raining. So, for the first time, I set off, at 06:45, in full rain gear and with my rucksack cover up. There is a low overcast and a light wind; the temperature is in the high single digits. I notice some people walking with long capes over their rucksacks and shoulders, some of them with a between-the-leg strap to keep them from billowing. In my view, those that are also wearing rain pants or gaiters (to keep the socks and the inside of the boots dry) will be fine. Those that are relying solely on a cape may be in for a not so pleasant experience. Here endeth the lesson.
The trail is mostly pavement or hard-packed earth, so there isn't the mud problem of yesterday. I trudge on through the rain and the low rolling hills until I see the village of Granon. By 08:15 I'm seated at a cafe having a "tortilla patatas" (Spanish omelette), a crust of baguette, and a coffee. I top up my water bottle at a "fuente" (fountain) on the western outskirts of the village. I'm carrying two 750 millilitre plastic (BPA-free) water bottles; one in a pouch on the waistbelt of my rucksack and one in reserve in a side pocket. The water from the municipal "fuentes" has been fine (unless labelled as non-potable) and I have only had to take out my reserve bottle once so far. 1.5 litres seems to be a perfectly adequate load. I'll have to see whether crossing the "meseta" in warmer weather changes that view, but I doubt it.
I arrive at a private hostel in Belorado (23 kilometres from my start point) at noon; 5 and 1/4 hours after starting out. The weather has been cold (the wind came up) and it rained most of the time. The hostel doesn't open until 12:30, so I put my pack at the back of the line along the wall and wait my turn to check in. Caledon Angela booked beds for 10 of us ahead of time, so we're in good shape. The honourary Canadians in the group this night are New York Chris, and Herman and Joyce (an anglicization) from the Netherlands. Just before I sit down to register, a shower of ice pellets forces many of those waiting outside to scurry into the lobby for cover.
So far I have been spending about 30 Euro per day. Five for breakfast, 5 for lunch, 10 for accommodation, and 10 for dinner. This amount goes up if I decide to use the "lavadora" (washing machine) and/or "secadora" (clothes dryer). That normally only happens if the weather is not sunny or there is a paucity of clothesline space. I've had no problem finding free WiFi (wee fee in France and Spain).
Tonight we have reserved space for all of us for dinner at 19:00, in the on-site restaurant. The hospitallero says that they grow much of the food in their back garden. The hope for fresh vegetables springs anew. I'll post this blog now and then fill in the rest of this day's activities when I find time tomorrow.
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Great pictures John. Sounds like you've found a really nice group of people, mind you 99.9% of the people on there are the same.
ReplyDeleteYes, I heard that you cry three times on the Camino, must admit I beat that that count by one or two. Combination of the scenery, reflecting on life and possibly a little exhaustion...but all very cathartic.
I see you seem to be sensing more of the spirit/spirituality of the Camino experience which I think is what makes it such an amazing journey. I found it important to open yourself to being receptive to these feelings, like omens, and recognizing what they are trying to tell you.
Living out of a 10kg bag for weeks made me realize how little we really need. Obviously having the financial means to do so is a big factor but a simple life can be so rewarding.
That's cool you guys are cooking together, I think those are the times I remember most fondly.
Buen Camino Skipper! Keep up the great posts brother!