Day 38

Day 38: Villar de Mazarife to San Justo de la Vega – 27.6 km

I am finding it very difficult to stop and rest now that I am walking alone. And not just stop, but to actually sit there for more than 5 minutes to allow my body a chance to recover. So after walking 9.6 kilometers without stopping this morning, I ventured into an albergue, looked at my watch (which I stopped wearing after about a week into my walking with Randy, but just put on again yesterday), and determined to sit for at least 45 minutes.

And so I sat. In the outdoor courtyard. Alone. Slowly sipping my coffee and eating my croissant. Listening to the albergue's pet bird repeatedly say “hola” and “adios”. Reading my Bible. With my boots off.

It wasn't so bad. But still I felt like I should be walking. Not just sitting around.

After I had "successfully" rested, I ventured on another 4.5 kilometers to Hospital de Orbigo, a town that I have heard wonderful things about. But which was either on siesta or I was distracted by my sore feet, because I walked through the entire town (population 1,100) without feeling the need to stop and stay.

At the edge of town I unexpectedly came to a cross roads and had to pull out my guidebook. While finding the page I needed, a young couple passed by me, said hello, and kept walking. Then turned around and came back.

“English?” they asked in German accents.

“Yes.”

“If you go straight, it is shorter. But if you go right, it is more beautiful,” the man said.

“Right it is, then!”

Sometimes shorter is better. Days when it is raining, muddy, or the scenery has been the same for several kilometers in a row. But today I wanted to follow the more beautiful path. Even though my feet hurt. Because this couple took the time to tell me that it was worth it. And it certainly was beautiful.

The next town was only 2 kilometers away. And since it was lunchtime I stopped at a bar. And bumped into a father/daughter duo from Canada I had met earlier on the trail.

“I’m buying you a drink,” the father said. “It comes with tapas!” I remember being that excited when I first learned this custom as well. “You are joining us whether you want to or not,” he added.

His daughter was just a few years younger than me and made for good company. It was her dad’s idea to come on the Camino. And after hearing his excitement for several months as he made plans, she decided to tag along. At least, she said, that’s how she would describe the Camino before coming. But now it is as much her journey as it is his.

“I don’t really see the point in getting to Santiago,” she said, when I told her I had less than 2 weeks left in Spain, “unless you are really religious.”

“I can find God in the trees and mountains, the ever changing scenery and certainly the people," I offered, "just as easily as I can find Him in the churches and cathedrals.” Which has become even more true for me with each passing day.

They were anxious to get to the next town (just 2.5 kilometers away) and settle in for the afternoon. But my feet wanted a longer rest. So I ordered a tortilla and a lemonade, plugged in my computer, and worked for the next two hours. Spending only 3 euros on my afternoon. (I love that so many bartenders expect pilgrims to loiter!)

As I was preparing to leave, a group of older gentleman started asking me all kinds of questions, most of which I didn’t understand. Except that they wanted to know if I was traveling alone. And they wanted me to take their “youngest” friend with me. “No, no, no!” he kept shouting, more interested in playing cards than walking 10.5 kilometers.

And even though this guy didn’t join me, I did meet up with an even older fellow about 8 kilometers later. Out for his evening stroll. Wearing a sweater and cap. Slacks and tennis shoes. Walking just a hair slower than I was.

We had your typical small talk. Where are you from? Where are you going? What do you think of this weather? But I enjoyed the sound of someone walking beside me as much as I did his interest in my Camino.

I walked him back to his car, about a kilometer down the road, and he wished me a “Buen Viaje.” Good journey.

Unwilling to go any further, I stopped at an Albergue Donativo. You pay what you can to stay at the donativos, and they use the funds for upkeep and the next night’s dinner. 

A special thank you to whoever stayed here the night before, because I enjoyed a delicious meal of noodle soup, salad, spinach and mushroom tortilla, and dessert.

The real treat, of course, was the company. My Spanish host. A French woman who lives nearby. And a Romanian couple who seem to be vagabonds (the young man I saw sitting outside another donativo earlier in the day, and she said she'd spent the afternoon washing her hair in the fountain).

Meditation was the main topic of dinner conversation. The Romanian couple just completed a 10-day silent retreat (she only lasted 7 days). And the Frenchwoman wants to go next. I told them I was a Quaker and that we have silence in our worship services in order to listen for God. The man said that it is important to focus on our breathing because that is how God created Adam. By breathing life into him. 

I will carry this thought with me tomorrow as I walk.