Day 24 - Sahugun - Thursday, 14 May 2009

Ledigos -> Sahugun = 17K (365K remaining!)

I am penning this in the sunny Plaza Mayor in Sahugun. I am wearing my windbreaker because the spring breezes are still chilly here. In my scruffy clothes and windblown hair, I feel like a homeless person (which in a way I am). I am whiling away the hours, waiting till 1600 or so when I hope to connect with friends who live on this very plaza. I don’t have their address or their phone number, but I have been in touch online. They are in Leon for the day. So, for a couple hours I am living on a park bench.

During siesta, there is not much to do. I spent some time and 2 Euros at the Café Zentral catching up on e-mail. I snacked on tortilla and tinto (red wine). And now here I am, basking in the sun on my very own park bench.

My day started later than usual. I left the Ledigos albergue around 0720. Temperatures had dropped and the prairie wind was quite strong. The sky quickly became blue and the waving, green wheat captivated me as I walked along. At 3K I stopped for breakfast at a bar in Terradillos de los Templarios. I was delighted when a frisky kitten proceeded to hop up on my lap and snuggle down for a nap. (Spanish cats often tend to be a bit aloof or suspicious). A second kitten arrived. I had a hard time making myself leave the cozy scene.

I walked on (another 3.5K) to Moratinos where I was met at the fountain just before town. An e-mail buddy (and former Air Force brat) was sitting there with one of her dogs. (She’s an Ex-Pat and has a home here in sunny Spain) My friend and I walked up the rise to the village where we were met by her beloved spouse and dog #2. They swept me into their cozy kitchen and plied me with coffee and cookies. Her mother was visiting from the USA. After days of communal life (barracks living!) it was a delight to sit in a kitchen and sip American coffee, chat in English, and have a sense of “normal” for a bit. I even felt a little homesick for my girlhood days in Iowa, gathered around the kitchen table with my sisters and my own mother. A little touch of home for a lonely, tired pilgrim!

My friend's offered me a bed for the night and ohhhh was it tempting. A lazy, relaxed day among kindred spirits would be a good thing. But, I graciously declined and pressed on. (Frankly, I am always a bit disbelieving when people offer me a bed or an invitation – I turn shy and feel unworthy. My social skills are bad – I seldom “look people up when I’m in town” … heck I hardly even call my own daughter!) I lingered a while, but when some other pilgrims showed up, I took the opportunity to depart. It was a delightful stop and I am grateful to have had a few hours with them. I would like to know them all better.

So, now I am in Sahugun, a lively town in a rural area. The plaza where I wait and on which my friends live, is bordered with 14 trees. At this time of year the tops of the trees are trimmed back severely. In the heat of summer they will provide a lovely canopy, but now they appear misshapen and distorted (to an American’s eyes). There is a fountain at the end of the plaza and on the opposite end is a bandstand. A few pigeons splash in the fountain. Around the plaza are numerous inviting cafes, bars and shops under an arcade. On summer days, no doubt, tables and chairs and people spill out into the main plaza.

2300 – Time for Bed
I am full of rich food and pleasant conversation and now it is time for me to sleep. What a luxury to have a room to myself. Though I will be up early and walking tomorrow, it is still a great pleasure to have a room to myself.

My friends here in Sahugun winded and dined me and made me feel comfortable. I laughed and enjoyed good conversation. I am grateful to them for being such gentle hosts. I met my hosts back in Santa Fe when I was planning my Camino adventure - they were veterans and shared their wisdom and regaled me with stories. So what a delight to stay at the flat in Spain!

It has been a joy to visit with friends today. It also reminds me of how lonely and physically demanding days on the pilgrimage can be. The contrast is stark.

I say a prayer of gratitude and turn out the light on another day in sunny Spain, a happy day spent among friends.

Day 23 - Ledigos - Wednesday, 13 May 2009

Carrion de las Condes -> Ledigos = 24K (382K to go!)

Today I knocked out 24K. I had hoped to reach Terradillos de los Templarios, but stopped in Ledigos. The first 17-18K was long; no villages, flat and shadeless. I started walking at 0640, after breakfast in a local bar and arrived in Calzadilla de las Cuerza by 1000. I pressed on for another 6K and stopped at Ledigos, hoping to find tortilla. No tortilla available in this deserted, rural bar. As I sat there I realized my feet hurt and decided to simply call it a day and check in. I could simply relax and rest a bit and press on tomorrow. I called Mark and asked him to contact a Christian Science Practitioner for help me with my feet.

The terrain is flat, but challenges most pilgrims. Just before Ledigos I watched a grown man fall to his knees and weep at the pain he was experiencing in his legs. The sealed roads are as bad as the rocky ones.

The albergue is basic, a bit run down actually, but it is sunny and warm and birds are singing. I am fatigued I guess. I did not sleep well last night (I shared the room with a snorer/farter who also spent an hour in the middle of the night rummaging through his pack while wielding a flashlight and muttering to himself in French. He left the hallway door open when he banged around in the toilet adjacent to our room – not complaining, just observing!)

At 1500 I munched down the sandwich I made yesterday (turkey and cucumbers) and soaked up the sun a bit. I showered and washed my hair (using a bar of soap). The breeze is drying my hair.

Earlier I walked around town a bit…it is small. There are no shops. The only sounds are the chatter of wild birds, bees humming and the occasional crowing of a rooster who lives behind closed doors on the featureless Plaza Mayor. I can hear the prairie winds rush past my ears. It is so quiet here. Not a car on the streets nor any people. It is siesta time, but even in the evenings most of these tiny towns are devoid of life – like movie sets after the film crew has departed. They are like the small, dying towns in the heartland of the USA. The young people are long gone and only aged parents people these villages. Finally I hear a dog bark. No cats in evidence here and no flowers in this harsh small town.

I am hungry for a novel or good conversation.

It would be lovely to pace my walking in such a way that I could stop for a leisurely lunch at around 1400 and then continue walking later in the day. Unfortunately, the albergues fill up rapidly. So pilgrims tend to walk early (to avoid the heat) and to stop for the day at around 1300-1400. This leaves time for laundering clothes, journaling, getting supplies and dining.

I love walking early, under the setting moon watching the purple skies lighten and hearing birds starting their daily chorus. The first stop is at 0800 most days. I down a sweet café con leche and toast with butter and marmalade. I stop again for late breakfast at about 1000. By then I have walked about 4 hours (12-20K under my belt already). I am not in a hurry. I love mornings and I walk along briskly and happily most days.

It is hard to imagine walking through this region after 1300. The sun drains me and any humidity would make it even more challenging. How do the summer pilgrims survive?

I am, frankly, ready for a break. I am a bit worn out and tired of the 24/7 public nature of pilgrim life. I should check into a hostel and treat myself to some privacy and a day of leisure.

In just 19 days I will be in Madrid (or on my way there). I’ll begin my journey back to life – back from the setting sun.

I struck up conversation with a young couple from Finland. They are tired and angry with one another…chafing. They ask me to listen as they speak, to be a referee. They break up as I watch. She puts him in a taxi cab – it is like a scene from a “tele-novela” (soap opera). I spend the remainder of the day and evening listening to the young woman sorting out her feelings.

As I wearily crawl into my bunk, I hear the young woman, crouched in a corner, weeping forlornly as she whispers into her cell phone. What will the next chapter of their lives be like? Will I ever know?