Castrojeriz

Every day when you get to the albergue, the ritual is the same. Pay your money, hand over your pilgrim passport (mine is lime green) for a stamp, pick your bed. Then you spread your sleeping bag out on the bed so that no-one takes it. I like top bunks, I find the bottom bunks claustrophobic. Then find toiletries, take a shower, put on semi-clean clothes, wash your socks and t-shirt for the day and maybe your underwear, hang them out to dry. Then, the rest of the day is just hanging out.

Castrojeriz has a castle. It doesn't however have a bus until Monday. So Tina took a taxi back to Burgos, after we negotiated that with the elderly driver, and now I'm sitting alone on the sundeck of the albergue, wondering what to do for dinner. Although it took us two days to walk here, I'm sure Tina got back to Burgos in about half an hour in the cab...

Hornillos del camino

My feet have almost stopped hurting. They are still tired at the end of the day, but not swollen and immovable in my boots anymore. At one point today, walking by myself, my spirits lifted and I'm walking with the unalloyed joy I remember from Nepal.

Hornillos del camino is tiny, one main street, and most of the houses are unoccupied. The population seems to consist of three elderly ladies who are roaming the streets in their bathrobes.

Tina and I sat most of the afternoon outside on the steps of the church. We talked to Ursula from Ireland, whom Tina met this afternoon on the trail.

I'm in a one-horse town in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of strangers (I should explain that really Tina is Jessica's friend and I had only met her once briefly before this trip. Jessica is in Burgos, we think, waiting for Tina to come back, but there is no bus from Hornillos and no taxi... so it will have to be tomorrow.) and I'm perfectly happy.

Burgos

I'm sitting in the square outside the cathedral, with the backpacks. The bus to Burgos was too fast, but the alternative was nerves frayed past the breaking point and feet that shouldn't be in boots. For the grace of their company, it was necessary. God will understand.

In the last couple of days I've been feeling closer to Him, stranded as I have been in a strange land. I want Him to come and have coffee with me, so we can talk about what I should do next. I'm thinking he'd probably tell me to brush my hair.

A little while ago, we had lunch in a sidewalk cafe where the pretty waitress served us happily. A real contrast to the service we have had to wring out of other establishments... It was a shock at first, when she came to give us menus and started explaining things to us, we waved her away. Jessica said, "How do we explain that we're not used to this any more?" And lunch was filling, I had salad and calamari. They had garlic soup. But, we're staying in pretty close quarters.

St. Augustine says, "My life is full of such faults, and my only hope is in your boundless mercy."

Jessica doesn't want to walk any more. Tina's knee still hurts from her injury in Nahera. Tina has decided she will walk with me tomorrow, to make sure I'm ok, and then take the bus back to Burgos and they will go to Portugal on the train. I told them, gently, "I came here to walk. I don't want to stop yet." And so I will be alone.

I got a ribbon bracelet with the Lord's Prayer on it in Spanish - cute pictures, too. The first thing I've bought other than food. And Tina and Jessica bought me a bracelet with an arrow on it, like the ones that mark the Camino, friendly yellow arrows on the road and on buildings.

carrying things

Every morning I get up and pack everything I'm not currently wearing, put it on my back, and set off... it's a wonderful feeling. I have an orange and grey backpack that I bought to take to Nepal, it's 35 litres, and in it I have:

sleeping bag

inflatable mat

three tank tops, three t-shirts, a pair of capris, a pair of leggings, a pair of shorts

three pairs of socks, four pairs of underwear, two bras, one bathing suit

backpacking towel, headlight, solar panel- which charges - my ipod, guidebook, journal, very small book to read (The Confessions of St. Augustine).

the white ugly sandals talked about earlier and a green cotton sundress, both for evenings

raincoat, rain pants, hat, backpack rain cover

two sweaters, one is neon green and has a hood and cool thumbholes in the sleeves, and the other is fuzzy

water bottle, pocket knife

two little pouches that contain: a small bottle of shampoo, bar of soap, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, tiny hairbrush, and the tape and gauze for my feet, sunscreen, Fisherman's Friends, Tylenol, bandaids

a jar of apricot jam...

The last item is because sometimes breakfast is provided in the albergues, but it doesn't always feature jam. So I'm carrying my own. I'm a little tired of the clothes I brought and they don't get terribly clean with the hand washing. I'm worried that I smell.

We are in Belorado tonight. Jessica and Tina want to take the bus to Burgos tomorrow, because they've been told it's a steep hill out of Belorado. I've said I'll come with them.

Santo Domingo Part 2

Went to see the cathedral, after the laundromat. And so I sat in the cathedral, with my sore feet on the prayer bench and looked at the stark black cross suspended from the ceiling in the intensely ornate nave and somehow we both seemed out of place. And I thought, "What am I doing HERE?"

Tina and Martha made a very tasty supper, pasta with what they thought was ground beef but turned out to be ground turkey. We gave the leftovers to various folk. Which was kind of satisfying in itself. The visiting foot guy has bound my big gross blister that developed on the pad of my left foot - after popping it and filling the holes with iodine. Yick. But it feels much better tonight (I stopped and took my boots off after lunch today because I was convinced that one of the bones in my foot was poking through my sole) and I think I'll be able to walk on it tomorrow. I know, eh? Again with the feet.

But really. Does God want all of this? The pilgrimages, the cathedrals, the gold and jewels? How does he let us know what he wants? Telegrams?

I feel as if I have been walking my whole life. As if someone said, "Walk!" and I set off, but not knowing why. The days, although I feel them so strongly as they happen, are beginning to run into each other, bleed into one big puddle of Camino-ish-ness. Walk, rest, walk, rest, walk, eat, walk, walk, shower, eat, look around, eat, sleep, get up, walk again. What day did the apple come through town? What day did I buy the ugliest plastic shoes in the world? What day did I eat the immense croissant?

I forgot to tell the apple story. We were in Cirauqui, which is a town on the side of a very steep hill. We stopped at a little grocery store because Tina wanted fruit. I had a sore tummy and didn't want food, so I was sitting on the wall outside the shop. Tina and Jessica went in and looked around, and came out with something, I forget what, but Tina was saying, "I can't believe they didn't have any apples." Just after she said it, and I'm not even kidding, something came bouncing towards us, it had come down the steep street behind us and was going quite fast and bouncing pretty high, it went past us and I said to Tina, "There's your apple" and we all started to laugh.

Santo Domingo de Calzada

Last night we decided that Leon is our destination, another week or so, and that after that we will go sit on a beach somewhere. Jessica is happier, now that we have a plan that involves ending the Camino. Getting to Santo Domingo was a shorter day, we were here by 12:30, not the 4PM of yesterday, and that makes a difference. In my mind's eye I can see vineyards stretching endlessly out of sight. I'm tired but not exhausted, tonight.

It rained on us a little today, just a light mist, like from a plant sprayer. But it's still not cold... just pleasant for walking. A little chilly for protracted sitting without a sweater.

I'm sitting in the laundromat, which we were happy to find after days of washing our sweaty socks and t-shirts by hand in stone basins with cold water. Our clothes are going round, we also have Martha from Ireland's clothes. Clare from England, who Tina has been walking with, went on further today. But we decided that 30k is too long for us, and we're sticking to 20s at the moment. Also, it takes us into the afternoon when it gets very hot, and Spanish people who are sitting in the shade drinking beer give us trouble for walking in the heat.

Dinner last night was in a lovely cafe, run by friendly Carlos, his brother found Tina in pain from her hamstring in the street in Najera in the afternoon, and gave her ice, then saw us hobbling around in our sandals later in the evening and took us to Carlos' cafe, where we had a carb feast, pizza and spaghetti. As we were leaving, Carlos said, "Estoy abierto a las seis, manana," so we went back this morning for bread and jam and excellent coffee, and Carlos gave me his card so I can send him a postcard.

Children keep coming past the door of the laundromat and yelling in - not sure what that's about. I found yesterday that a lot of people spoke to me, when I was alone, in Logrono. Telling me my pack was too heavy, my shoelace was untied, wishing me buen camino.

Clothes are in the dryer now, the girls have reappeared with food to be eaten soon. Earlier on in the trip I suggested that we buy food and have a picnic, given that we always seem to eat lumps of baguette with ham and/or cheese anyway, but the idea was dismissed. Now, it is good. Some measure of how far they have come, in their European experience.

I need to keep reminding myself that everyone is on his or her own camino. That although sometimes it seems like a giant walking slumber party, the way that they are experiencing it is different. Some are more inward, some more outward. And I am not in their bodies. I don't feel what hurts them, just as they don't feel what is excruciating for me. In the evenings we all limp around in our sandals, even those who have been striding much more quickly than me through the countryside. I'm sure that in the future I will drink a glass of wine made from grapes from a field I have walked through in the last week. I just won't know it.

I'm already talking about when I'm going to come back and finish...

Najera

Jessica and I were joking around about being penguins, rather than pilgrims, given that our feet are no longer under our conscious control, but rather very flipper-like. Jessica said, "Yeah, I used to be able to move my feet inside my shoes, but not any more." Today she took the bus.. We set out this morning from Logrono but her heel is very painful, and she turned back after fifteen minutes or so. I took her back through the streets of Logrono to the hostel again. One of the Korean girls was coming out, she has blisters too and took the bus from Los Arcos to Logrono, and she had a map to the bus station. And so I left Jessica there and walked off alone. Tina had gone on ahead to catch some other people, Clare from England and Martha from Ireland, when it was apparent that Jess and I were turning back.

I walked 30k by myself. Every now and then someone would catch me up, and we would exchange pleasantries and discuss our feet - I've met a lot of the people who are doing this stretch - I think there's about thirty-five of us or so. The discussion would pull me along, like a small car in a large truck's slipstream, for a while, and then I fall back to my own rhythm. I really hope for my feet to quit hurting so much. Poor old feet. They really do become the focal point of everything. How much do they hurt? What's that stupid blister doing? Do I have any hotspots? So much for spiritual enlightenment, I am firmly enmeshed in the state of my feet.

Chocolate helps. I've taken to carrying a large bar in my shoulder bag with the map, and when I start to falter I chomp down big hunks of it. So far I've had Fruit and Nut, white chocolate, and a lovely bar with bits of toffee in it. That one went fast. This morning, when I was walking out of Logrono, I stopped at a bar for breakfast and had the largest croissant I've ever seen in my life. Accompanied by cafe con leche (like a non-foamy latte) it cost me 2 euros.

At lunch time I followed two German guys into a food store, along the road, and purchased a large orange, a loaf of bread, a jar of jam, a bag of chips and a bottle of Fanta limon. (My favourite from when I used to come to Spain as a kid). In the semi-drizzle of noon-time, I sat by the side of the road by a vineyard and ate it. About half an hour later, I came down into a valley and found a little rest stop, with a picnic shelter with benches on it. One of the Dutch guys I've talked to before was sitting out by the road, so I felt safe, and I went into the picnic shelter, took my boots off, settled down with my head on my backpack, and went fast asleep. I don't know how long I slept, but I do know I wouldn't have been able to do the last ten kilometers without a nap...