Albergue Surprises

The thing is, I am often surprised by little things that happen, or occur to me in albergues. So I figure I should share...

Pilgrims sleep in bunks.  Somewhere between 4 an 180 bunks in a room. If you think you couldn't be any closer than to the person in the upper or lower bunk attached to yours, you'd be wrong.  Frequently, the one next to yours is closer. But trust me when I say it's the line of sight that counts more than distance.

A few nights ago, while occupying a lower bunk, I was laying in the dark, trying to sleep, when my bunk mate arrived. I had never met him and wouldn't recognise him today either.  The only light that was in the room, was a touch of moon light... or maybe streetlight from the window.

This guy comes in, stands beside my bed, his head obscured by the upper bunk, and begins to strip.

Within 20 seconds he is down to just underwear...but it gets worse! He then reaches for the little ladder and begins to climb up.

The moonlight catches his pale hiney and it's then I realize he is wearing just a tiny thong!!!

Huh. That's different!

Day 6: Mañeru to Villamayor de Montjardìn

First I need to go back a day and explain what last night was like.

I arrived at the albergue in Mañeru and mentioned that I enjoyed my stay so much last year, I came back.  They were thrilled.

The 12 of us (11 men and I) had a thoroughly entertaining, delightful and delicious dinner together, then the host came out and made an announcement. He had a gift for me... his returning guest. I was given the biggest scallop shell, decorated with the name of the hostel (Lurgorri) and dated. He then took a picture with me and I got a great big hug while my new friends clapped.  I was so touched! This place epitomized Camino spirit last year and now, again in 2016.

FYI, Lurgorri means "red earth". A perfect fit for me.

I slept super well and rose earlier than even my alarm. Off went Pierre and I, into the darkness... darting from village to village before any sign of sunrise.  I honestly felt like today wouldn't be too hard!

Of course it's not all smooth sailing in the dark.  Who paints the important part of the arrow around the corner? This was just one challenge... other signs were hidden behind posts or missing entirely.

And well, blisters are indiscriminate about the time of day or lack of light. Better to deal with them quickly though!

We stopped for an obligatory chocolate croissant and kept on until Estella, where a market beckoned.  Today it happened that we purchased pan y jamon y queso. Yep, we made sandwiches with a Swiss army knife and had a picnic in the square.  Then toured the church (100m up the stairs) before leaving Estella bound for Villamayor de Montjardìn.

Free walnuts = free snack.  Only if you can learn to crack them on the side of the road, Flintstones style, with a rock, without smashing them to smithereens. Success!

Ooh, that's right! There was a wee stop at the wine fountain just out of town too. God bless those productive monks!

Once again the afternoon was a bit brutal. Sore feet were over shadowed by increasingly painful tendon in left calf.  I soon realized that getting to Santiago depends on your mental state as much as a physical ability... and I need to get mentally tougher. 

Dear Lord! Does every destination perch itself atop of a steep, gravel road?!

Day 5: Cesar Menor to Mañeru

The early start with Pierre was a welcome escape from staying anywhere near those British women. They are yet to learn Pilgrim etiquette. After arriving in the evening yesterday they dumped their SUITCASES and left.  Returning just before 10 pm, after several of us were clearly trying to sleep, they proceeded to pack, unpack and repack... and play with their suitcases! Everything came out of and went back into noisy plastic bags. Lights were on, conversation flowing and much stomping around in hiking shoes.

Sure, it was probably their first night in an albergue, but social convention dictates that when sharing a room with others, you put on a smile, act with consideration and when all sense fails (IE you were not raised right) try common sense!

Around 10:15, while they were still showering or brushing teeth, I turned off the light. One of them exclaimed "it's dark" when she came back in, slamming the four behind her. (That happens at night.  Get over it!) Another began snoring shortly after that, but I noticed with respect, that my new Italian friend had discovered if she coughed just as snoring reached fever pitch, it stopped for a while.

I snuck out quietly and joined Pierre in packing in the courtyard and then we made tracks...up the hill to the cafe where the lady had judged my Spanish last year.  Her mood was still grim but the breakfast was good.

Solo female travelers are rare this year it seems. I met one today though, from Utah.

Then it was onward. Up the ridge to the iron people - Alto del Perdón.

The weather was good and the hike invigorating! I had taken the precaution of applying Compeed to one heel this morning in the dark and it was holding it's own. At the top, we met a wonderful Spanish lady who sold us fruit from a wagon. She also gave us a quick lesson in the colors of our chakras... I think! Neither Pierre nor I understood more than a few words but we were both mesmerized by her. I took her picture!

As with most of my Spanish encounters, I take the words I recognize and concoct a story sounds them.  FYI, my stories are fun, romantic and end happily... perhaps more so than the real stories! Hahaha.

The downhill was a bit of a bear.  It's harder on the knees and there is more risk of falling, but nothing as dire as the guidebooks and locals would have you believe. 

We waddled through a series of villages, including one with a Pharmacia vending machine (genius!) until reaching Puenta la Reina. The bridge is pretty special and like a lot of Spain, there is some serious history here. Pierre and I were both struggling.  Feet sore. Legs tired.  Energy lagging. Plans to make it to Lorca were being adjusted and we'd be lucky to make it up the next hill to Mañeru. Actually we were lucky I didn't remember there was a next hill or we might have stayed in Puenta la Reina!

Mañeru is where Tony and I stayed last year. A quiet village with a 12-bed albergue that also cooks for Pilgrims. My memories of this warm place don't let me down. The hosts are charming and friendly, showers are hot and water is plentiful, and trees outside the church are an ideal spot for journaling.

The sun is shining and a calming breeze blows gently across my tired feet. Time for a nap in public? What? You think I'd be the first Pilgrim?!

Today I walked 40,955 steps. The app says 22 miles.  (Distance between towns was 25km, but that doesn't account for the walking before, after and during stops between points A and B)

Where has the time gone? I've been walking 5 days. My body aches with overuse and my appetite has hit warp speed. A routine day now includes familiar faces, wringing underwear out and pinning it on a line beside everyone else's, wandering into churches, cafes, the occasional school and sometimes a private house - just out of curiosity  (don't tell anyone). And I generally fall asleep on a bunk to the sounds of random coughing, sighing, shuffling and snoring.

I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Day 4: Zabaldika to Cezur Menor

A later start today.  We ate breakfast with the Zabaldika crew then hiked into Pamplona - about 8km.

It's a bit of a mixed bag, that hike.  Some trail through the woods, other parts along busy roads, poorer parts of town in the outskirts then you enter the city through the massive stone walls. Thousands of years of history standing in front of you.

On the agenda today was less distance  but more Pamplona.

We ran errands (got new soap!) and visited the Camino store. The guy I met last year was still there.  Funny, he didn't remember me. He'd only met about 200,000 other pilgrims since then!

Of the tourist activities, my favorite were the church and the museum of Navarro.

The church had two alters in an L shape.  It was dripping with gold (my least favorite thing in a church) and smelled so nice.

The museum was a treasure trove of artifacts and art from 100 BC, through the iron age to Roman Era.

We ended in a pastry shop for chocolate treats and walked the 5km out of the city to Cezar Menor.

The alburgue was quiet enough for blogging and getting laundry done. The host even showed me how to dry my socks faster in the drier. Apparently you stuff them with rolled up newspapers... and ignore your father's voice in your head, telling you how you'll start a fire in the drier by using newspaper!

Dinner was a lively affair whereby I spent way too much time trying to convince a British guy that Donald Trump was the exact opposite of the right answer for America. His answer? "I'd take that risk".
I wanted to cut his tongue out with my butter knife... but that's not the Camino spirit, so he will bless another dinner table going forward.
*And that explains Brexit too I think!

Day 3: Espinal to Zabaldika

It was an early morning.  Pierre was awake and up since 4:30 am... still not adjusted to Spanish time. I woke just after 6 and we began walking in the dark around 6:20 am. It remains one of my favorite times to walk in Spain.

The down side is that nothing really opens that early, so we were 14km in, at Zubiri, before coffee and breakfast was an option. But ahhh, fresh squeezed juice is wonderful and there is something quite spectacular about watching them push oranges into the machine and putting your juice directly into the glass! It was accompanied by coffee and fresh bread with ham, cut right of the leg in front of you.

Sunrise was a highlight too, in case you thought I was here just for the food.

Stopping in Larrasoaña, we took the time to shake our tired and now swollen feet from their boots. A supermarket  (think tiny 7-Eleven) looked like the most likely place for coffee and a snack, so we entered. The owner, about 60 years old, was taking a break from stacking a large pile of fire wood. Pierre asked him if he needed help, but he was quick to say "no thanks" and explained that he worked slowly due to semi-recent heart surgery.  Moments later he brought us out a complimentary plate of warm bread, chorizo and cheese, to thank us for offering. Delicious! Turns out his name was Angel. Really? Really! Perfect.

12:55pm and we had just 8km to go today. Through the woods, over a river (another medieval bridge) and we hadn't seen another Pilgrim all day.

My app told me I had walked 43,315 steps and almost 20 miles when I reached the Alburgue  Parroquial. This catholic run hostel provides a clean, serene stopping place with communal dinner, all for a donation. It is staffed by volunteers and run by the "5 sisters".

Pilgrims, if you are reading this, please don't think of these type hostels as free. If you have money, you should donate generously. The money that today's pilgrim's donate, feeds the pilgrim's who stay tomorrow. That's just how it works.

The adjoining church had an amazing bell tower, if you made it up the steep spiral staircase. One sister (nun) invited me to ring the bell gently, once, after offering up my prayer. Perhaps I could have been more gentle... but my prayer was definitely given wings!

After dinner with 11 of my new and newer friends, we returned to the choir of the church for a brief time of meditation and sharing.  Others had some seriously heavy stuff they were working through on Camino.  For me, I realized that I'm grateful to live in the moment every step of the way and for the opportunity I have, that is only possible with the help and support I have at home. On top of being happy to be here, I acknowledged that I'm very happy with the life I have created/co-created at home. Being on Camino, with its daily challenges and slight hardships, is the perfect reminder to be grateful for my home, it's amenities, cuddly pets, clients, job I love and man I love even more.

My legs hurt and I left my soap in Espinal last night... but life is good!

Day 2: Orisson to Espinal

The app said 18 km to Roncesvalles. That would be a 700 meter climb and steep descent into Spain after that.

I walked mainly with Pierre.  He kept the same  pace and many things about him reminded me of Charles Thabault! Pierre and I didn't stop for breaks, in fact between Orisson and Roncesvalles, we only stopped for pictures. Mostly we walked about 2.5 mph, which was impressive considering the steepness up and extra steepness of the downhill.

At Roncesvalles we braked for our first stamp. It was here we met the stamp Nazi! She was absent from the room when we arrived, so I helped myself to the stamp laying on the counter.  About that time, she emerged and demanded in Spanish that we get in line and fill out paperwork.  Pierre stepped forward to explain we are not staying the night and just wanted the stamp.  She yelled at him to get to the back of the line! As I approached the desk, with all my demographics filled in, she saw that I had the stamp already.... oh, what a glare.  Once outside, Pierre said do you remember that Seinfeld episode about the soup Nazi? I about wetted my pants. She was the stamp Nazi!

Roncesvalles was also the place we stopped for a Pilgrim blessing at the local cathedral... and for coffee at the local cafe, before hitting the trail once again.

Through Burgete we sailed and with 25km under our belts, arrived at the Haizea Alburgue.

Legs tired but in good health and spirits. Ready for my Pilgrim meal.

7:30pm? Kinda late in my opinion! I'll be asleep by 8pm!!!

NOTE: App says I walked 40,802 steps and 21.41 miles.

Day 1: Saint Jean to Orisson

Technically only 8km. But I apparently walked 22,320 steps and 11 miles today.

Every journey of a million steps, starts with one and this was mine.

I had forgotten how steep and exhausting it was!

I'd left Mark in Saint Jean, following his orientation tour. There were tears.  Acknowledging that you'll give up everything on Camino is very different from the feeling you get when you actually give up hugging your sweetie, seeing him daily and bring able to chat about your day together over a casual dinner.

I left my love in a car park, blew him a kiss and started my ascent of the Pyrenees. For the next hour I was either alone with my grief or passing people who didn't speak English. My late start @ 10:35 am meant most people were ahead of me.

Then I was joined by a young basque guy. Danny spoke English and had lived in Durango, CO! I enjoyed hearing his perspective as a Basque... the fact that his native language had been forbidden by Franco and now the government was playing a significant role in the preservation of the Basque language and culture, was fascinating to me.

In Orisson, I met Allen from Australia, Pierre from Montreal and Victor from Spain. Discovering that I was in a 6 bed dorm room with 5 retirement aged men, had me almost reach for the Ambien right there and then! What were the chances of no snoring?  (Not great!)

I took a walk up the road for pictures and some quiet time and found my escape on a steep grassy area dotted with ferns. Grasshoppers frequented me and their chirping, and that of the cow bells, drowned out the multilingual conversations driving down the road.

The familiar feeling of the Camino routine, has returned. Arrive, check in, make bed, shower, laundry... relax and put feet up.

I climbed 800 meters today, but I feel good... relaxed, content, warm and clean. There's barely a cloud in the sky but the forecast is for thunderstorms tomorrow. Lucky I'm not made of sugar! Besides, I have "snackies". (The French have learned that word weirdly) and rain gear. Last year I traversed the Pyrenees in sunshine, the photos were amazing.  This year I can only assume they will be amazing in a different way.