I generally am not one of those “early to bed, early to rise” pilgrims. I’m usually one of the last pilgrims to stumble out of the albergue at about 7:30, bleary eyed and mumling something about a cafe con leche. This morning however, I couldn’t get out of the albergue fast enough. I literally got dressed outside.
Whilst attending to my infected blisters and applying my doctor prescribed anti-biotic cream, Michele came outside to yell at me for how I was handling them. Use a doctor-prescribed cream and bandages? “Psht! The nerve! All I needed to do was cover them in toilet paper. ” What?! I generally am a very, very patient and kind person but I literally shut down and could not even muster a fake smile. I curtly told her thank you, but I was going to follow my doctor’s orders. Then ran away quickly.
I was super excited for today’s walk as I would pass by the Arroyo de San Bol. According to pilgrim lore, pilgrims who wash their feet here are said to be cured of all ailments henceforth. My dogs need all the healing they can get.
I arrived at the Arroyo to discover my South African friends Pietand Otto had beat me to it and were already napping alongside it. Wish they had been awake to warn me just how cold it was. Brr! Though freezing, the water was definitely refreshing on my aching feet and I enjoyed it immensely.
After immersing my feet in the stream for quite some time, I lingered alongside it eating an apple and mentally preparing myself for the remaining 5km to Hontanas. Little did I know I was about to get front row seats to a free show.
The albergue attached to the Arroyo can be described, at best, as rustic (erm.. check out their composting toilet outside) and the organic hospitalero matched it in his ruggedness. While I was blankly enjoying my apple along the arroyo, he ventured out and unceromoniously dropped trou’ right in front of me and dived into the freezing water for a swim. My American eyes were not prepared. When he finally emerged from the freezing water I was surprised to discover that…. erm… well if the water is said to have healing powers, then he must be very, very healthy.
Given the reception receieved at Arroyo de San Bol, you may think I would have decided to stay, but alas, I decided to press on to Hontanas.
Once settled into Hontanas, I decided that town must have the most amount of flies per square inch than any other town in Spain. Swarms of them, everrrrrywhere! Flies aside, I really had a pleasant time in Hontanas. Piet and Otto — my buds from South Africa — had introduced us to a highly addicting card game and we ended up playing for hours.
I’m generally not too hungry at night since in Spain the main meal is lunch and bedtime for a pilgrim is around 9pm — no full stomach before sleep for me! — but was feeling absolutely peckish tonight. I decided to grab dinner at one of the bars offering a discounted pilgrims’ menu of the day and am so glad I did. We randomly were assigned to share a table with quite possibly some of the most easy going, good-natured people I have ever met. There was Alex, the TV producer from England and another American girl from Minnesota whose name sadly escapes me who had quit her job as a high school Spanish teacher to actually visit Spain. Given the way the conversation flowed and the topics discussed, an eavesdropper could assume we were all friends on the Camino together.
After dinner we were having so much fun, we decided to grab a couple more beers with Alex. And promptly turned into Peregrinas Borrachas! We literally made it back to our albergue a mere minute before lock-out. Gutted that in my intoxicated state I didn’t think to grab Alex’s email address! He was an amigo for sure.
Looking forward to seeing the ruins of Convento de San Antono and Castrojeriz tomorrow!
It’s official. I can charm the pants off any old Spanish man. Do I want to see an old Spanish man with his pants off? NO.
Leaving Burgos today I randomly struck up a conversation with a smiling man while waiting for the light to change. When he found out where I was from, he exclaimed that he was visiting San Francisco on October 5th… and I excitedly replied that October 5th was my birthday and when I hope to finish the Camino by. Being the charming, old Spanish man that he was, he asked for my phone number so he could wish me happy birthday…. and take me out for dinner to celebrate. Thanks, but no thanks.
Leaving Burgos I was impressed by the massive urban sprawl of it. I felt like I had been walking for several kilometers when I happened upon some cafes… I thought I had reached the next village. Nope. Still in Burgos!
After a really, long hot walk I decided to cut my day short and stop at Rabe de la Calzadas. If only I had known the sheer madness that lay ahead of me, I would have forged on.
Peregrino… listen up: avoid the Ospidal-Albergue de Peregrinos Santa Marina y Santiago at ALL costs. The hospitalero Michele is absolutely nuts. Though she is well-meaning, she comes across as completely abrasive and unnecessarily harsh. She prides herself in the fact that her albergue is “chinche” free (debatable!) thanks to the measures she takes. Everything, and I do mean everything, must be sealed in garbage bags and nothing can touch the floor or beds. When she saw my friend Lindsey’s bedbug bites, she proceeded to use us as an example for other pilgrims and nearly refused us entry.
I was in desperate need of a shower and wandered out of the room in a daze towards what I thought was the shower… wrong! I was promptly yelled at for appearing to venture into her private quarters. My bad. Then after my shower, I was digging for my things through the garbage bags when I accidentally dropped my scarf on the floor. I was instantly berated for breaking the rules again. Yikes. I decided a siesta wouldn’t be very relaxing because I was having waking nightmares of her burning all my belongings, shaving my head and dousing me in lye powder. Desperate for some peace and quiet, I headed over to the deserted common area to catch up on my journaling. I absentmindedly dropped my purse on the ground next to me, and though I can’t be sure, I’m pretty certain she was waiting in the shadows for me to break another rule because she instantly appeared to yell at me once again.
I had had enough. I needed a beer. Stat.
I nearly knocked her over as I ran outside to find the town’s only bar and was pleasantly surprised to run into my two South African friends who were staying at the other albergue next door. Through half tears and sheer excitement of seeing familiar faces, I quickly filled them in on the craziness of my hospitalero and they offered to buy me a beer to cheer me up. It worked.
Being the former au pair that I am, I found myself playing with three local children… if only because it continues to blow my mind that Spanish children are still out playing at 9:30 on the night before they begin school. At a bar no less. They liked my sunglasses and nearly fought each other over who got to wear them next. They giggled at my attempt to teach them a few English words and I giggled at their thoughts of San Francisco. Did I know Raven from “That’s So Raven” on the Disney Channel?
After the boys left, my friend Lindsey and I decided to stick around. We proceeded to stay at the bar playing the children’s game of “Quien es Quien?” aka “Who’s Who?” until about 10 minutes before lock-out. There was NO way I was going to spend any more of my time at the albergue willingly. I hope to still have all my hair when I wake up.
If my lifestory is ever told through film, I think today’s events would best be summed up through a video montage.
There was chasing pigeons through deserted, sun-drenched plazas. Getting lost in massive, Gothic cathedrals. Strolls along the river. Card games, betting and copious beers. Giggles. In essence, it was a wonderful day off.
I’m a sucker for Gothic cathedrals and the Burgos cathedral does not disappoint. Plus, Piet and Otto — my day off partners in crime– are architects/civil engineers in South Africa so it was really a joy to have them explain the nuances of architectual wonder the Burgos cathedral boasts.
Pilgrims are typically allowed to stay in the albergues for one night only, so tonight I switched to a small, private albergue that runs solely on donations and volunteers — plus they donate half their earnings to various charities. If you are looking for an albergue in Burgos, skip the municipal and stay at Santiago y Santa Catalina. You’ll sleep well knowing your donations are being used wisely. Plus I now am host to a batch of fresh bed bug bites courtesy of the Burgos municipal albergue.
Sleep tight don’t let the bed bugs bite has taken on a whoooooole new meaning.
Big city, big city nights
You keep me burning
Big city, big city nights
After all the relaxing and slow paced lifestyle of Villafranca… I was feeling energized, but in desperate need of some big city hustle and bustle. So it’s with great shame when I say… I took the bus to Burgos! To be fair, it would have been a very, very ugly walk — including about 10km of walking through industrial plants along the outskirts of Burgos. No thank you.
When I finally arrived at the Burgos bus station, I was happy to see I was in good company — the station was swarmed with pilgrims who had all arrived in Burgos from various locations along the way. None of us wanted to look each other in the eye, we were all so embarrassed!
When I walked out of the bus station, an OLD Spanish man crossed himself, then declared I was the prettiest pilgrim he had ever seen and that he enjoyed the view of me coming and going. Whoa. Completely different from the usual reception I receieve when walking into new cities–saturated in dirt, sweat and tears. Taking the bus does a body good?
I dropped my bag off at the gigantic, modern albergue in Burgos and went to explore the town. I randomly reunited with the two South African boys I had met on my first day and a crew of other pilgrims I had been seeing everyday since day one, but hadn’t chatted with much. All 15 or so of us decided to grab dinner together.
Over dinner we began discussing how along the Camino, we may have been walking in similar circles for days, but we haven’t always caught each other’s names. The main questions asked are, where are you from? and where did you begin the Camino? Over time, you may gleam a few other bits and pieces of each other, but names are rarely discussed. So when describing one pilgrim to another pilgrim, you may say something like, “oh I saw the solo Canadian dude whose daughter is getting married in Santiago de Compostela, he says hi.” and so on. So it was determined that I am “the smiley American girl who speaks Spanish and walks slow,” or “the smiley American who speaks Spanish and limps,” depending if they see me more on the trail or around town. Ha ha! Tht’s a title I can live with I suppose. So we all learned each other’s names and promised to ask each new pilgrim we met name.
Me, my friend Lindsey and the two South African boys Piet and Otto have decided take the day off tomorrow and will explore Burgos more. Can’t wait to see the inside of the Cathedral!!!!
I was not too impressed by Belorado. I think it was a case of unlucky circumstances, but from the moment I walked into the albergue I couldn’t wait to skip town. Rude hospitality staff. Flies everyyyyywhere. No shops open. Miscommunication over dinner reservations. I could go on.
To make things worse, it was a fiesta night. Ordinally I would be ALL about witnessing a traditional Spanish fiesta, but when fireworks are going off at 3am and your ear plugs aren’t doing their job, it doesn’t make for a pleasant night’s sleep. Then, as I was leaving the town at about 7am, some drunk locals were still out on the street and had the nerve to go through mine and my friend’s backpack and tried to throw our belongings onto a balcony. Unnecessary.
I was feeling a little down from the day’s events and was in no mood to walk the final 12km needed to make it to San Juan de Ortega– my projected finishing spot for the day. So when a man with kind eyes popped out from behind the trees on the outskirts of Villafranca, brandishing a business card and the promise of a new luxury albergue, I happily took the card and decided to stay the night in Villafranca Montes de Oca.
At 10 euros, it is far more expensive than any other albergue I have visited, but worth every cent. Ran by a family of three affable brothers, the albergue is attached to the town’s luxurious hotel, San Anton Abad. One of the brothers has done the Camino before and in the spirit of giving back, decided to dedicate a special wing of the hotel to pilgrims as an escape from the crowded and dirty albergues. I cannot recommend this place enough! It truly was an oasis. Because it’s Sunday, every shop was closed and there wasn’t much to do in town, so I spent about three hours just lounging in the lobby, talking to the brothers and swapping tales of travel.
Around 7pm or so, I finally decided to venture into town and discovered a bar that was open with a small supermarket inside. It’s hard to describe the pure randomness of the place, but the packaging of the food in the market honestly looked about 5 years old. Needless to say, I kept my purchases to a minimum.
I decided to grab a beer and not surprisingly, the old man running the bar took an interest in me and began chatting me up. What was I, an America, doing on the Camino?! And speaking Spanish so well no less?! Soon all the other old men joined in our conversation and I found myself suddenly needing to be an expert on all things US of A. How many people lived in the Bay Area? California? All of the States? I think I disappointed them in my lack of knowledge of my own country, but they were impressed by how much I knew of Spain. When the barkeep ever so casually asked me, “Que tal el Negro Obama?” I nearly choked on my beer and was a while before I could respond.
I finally said goodbye to my ancianos and headed back to my luxury albergue. It was the best night’s sleep I had so far!
After yesterday’s nearly euphoric walk, I had high hopes that the worst was behind me and that “things could only get better from here,” (paging Howard Jones!)
The neighboring town of Grañón was only 6km away from Santo Domingo but it may as well have been 60. I felt like each step was worse than the one before.
Then, about 1km away, I fell into [slooooow] pace with a local farmer on his way into town to visit the church. I was hobbled by blisters and sore ankes–him, hobbled by years of back-breaking labor. We began an easy going conversation, the words and tears flowing freely from me as if we had known each other for years. It felt great to let out all my frustration and hurt — in near perfect Spanish no less!
He reminded me that everyone has a different reason for walking the Camino –and different experiences — and that I must never forget what brought me to it. When I said I didn’t think I could make it all the way to Belorado that day, he told me that there was absolutely no reason why I had to push myself any harder than I was capable of. No one would judge me any less if some days I walked less and I had to agree with him.
When we finally made it to the church, he paused, looked me square in the eye and said he had faith that I was going to get my second wind that day and find the strength to continue on. He promised to light a candle for me and pray. He gave me the dos bes0s and I was genuinely sad to see him go. It was one of the sweetest, most inspiring conversations I have ever had in my life and I stood there in place with my eyes closed taking stock of everything that was said. I didn’t want to forget a single moment of it.
I made it to Belorado that day after all. With energy to spare no less. The kindness of strangers never ceases to amaze me.
I’m a girl who loves to know the history of the place I am visiting — even more so when it’s kitsch. And Santo Domingo de la Calzada has a great story to share!
The Cathedral is famous for the live cock and hen kept in a cage in celebration of a local legend involving a young German pilgrim and an innkeeper’s daughter, and a miraculous intervention by St. James that saved that the pilgrim’s life after he had been strung up on the gallows.
I went to the Pilgrims’ mass tonight and had a giggle at the loud “SQUAK!” every few minutes that came from above.
Today was my first day after a two day break, recovering from my nasty infected blisters and fever. I think the break was just what I needed because I woke up feeling GREAT and ready to take on today’s nearly 23km walk.
Sleeping in Nájera was definitely funny because all the pilgrims in the albergue had a case of the giggles all night long — methinks they were appreciating all the vino La Rioja had to offer!
Hola! So good news, the fever is down and I am feeling much better. My feet however still are festering a bit and I was in no mood to lace up the boots. So I decided to follow my doctor’s orders and take ONE more day off. Tomorrow, I start walking again!
I think the people of Logroño–and La Rioja as a whole–are among some of the nicest people I have ever met in Spain. Everywhere I went around town, the locals would stop to say “buen Camino!” or ask how I was doing. And when they would see my bandages and notice my limp, they seemed generally concerned for me. It felt great to be among people who cared!
Bad news y’all. I woke up feeling worse than the day before and my feet were looking pretty scary. So I took the bus to the doctor in Logroño, and as it turns out, I have infected blisters! Yuck. Still not quite ready to give up on the Camino tho…
I’ve decided to turn today’s visit to Logroño into the Camino de Vino and am just going to take it easy. No heavy walking and plenty of wine and tapas.
Today was a very, very bad day for me. I awoke from a fitful sleep feeling feverish and non-rested. After swallowing down some dry toast, I decided to set off from Estella just before 7am.
I got separated from the group I started out with very early on when a wave of nausea overtook me and I began vomiting a mere .5km outside the city. A group of septuagenarian Swedish ladies witnessed my episode, immediately handed me a breathmint and some dried mangoes and made sure I gathered my bearings before setting off.
Perhaps because I was feeling feverish and delirious, I blindly followed the ladies onwards. However my Swedish shepherdesses led me astray. .. and through a wooded path that was an extra 6km up a mountainside.
The path less taken was nearly completely covered with overhanging trees and in between my delirium, I imagined I was Little Red Riding Hood on my way to grandma’s… however the only Big Bad Wolf I was running from was my own sickness and exhaustion.
I passed through a lovely mountainside town with only one bar… and they weren’t serving food. I hungrily gobbled up the peanuts at the bar and ordered an orange juice, and cursed my own stupidy for not grabbing a few extra slices of bread at breakfast.
After leaving the town I happened upon a portly farmer who — no questions asked or words exchanged — handed me three pears, picked right from his tree. Perhaps he could tell just how weak I was feeling.
After about 27km walked (more like crawled!) I arrived in Los Arcos. The spritely Swedes had completely passed me the last 7km or so, and I never saw them again.
The best part of the day? Arriving at the city limits and seeing a note taped to the sign with my name on it. The pilgrims I had started the day out with had left me a note, hoping I was OK.
