She was responded with suggestions as I ordered food, but I still wouldn't say she was friendly. And she is obviously a friendly person because when no new customers arrived, she was just sitting down, having drinks with her regulara, and chatting it up.
However. However, when I came back to get the sello she was very nice to me. She even cracked a smile when I complimented on her cute her sello (stamp) was. She asked where I was off to, complimented me on my Spanish, and wished me a "Buen Camino". That's more like it.
I was off. Why did I leave Puente la Reina? Why?? Had I been forewarned (or even checked) the heat, I would've stayed put. Walking to Cirauqui seemed like a mistake--95F with next to no shade.
My sunglasses broke (probably last night when I was laying on Betsy). So pilgrims have this weird custom in which they leave broken or unwanted items on/within rock pillars (cairns). So I left mine on one with a little note that says "I have no super glue. But maybe you do?" Hopefully someone with super glue needed sun glasses.
As I walked I started to notice my feet filling up with hives. I had worn my Tevas today for the blisters to heal. I decided it would be wise to stop and medicate them. I figured Lavendar essential oil would be a safe start (thanks, Jaime!!). Maybe I overworked them? Maybe they skipped 1st degree burn and went straight to 2nd? Maybe I stepped on a plant and this is a reaction? Maybe putting thieves on my blisters was not a good idea? Nonetheless, I figured I'd stop, let my paws rest, and whip out the uke for a bit. Sometimes I regret having brought it, but I'm sure a greater purpose will be revealed at some point. I put some socks on under my Tevas in case the hives were sun sensitive. Onward lady! Pausing in any given shade (great or small) was necessary.
I made it to the first little town, Maneru. Two elderly man sat on a bench at the entrance and hailed me over to the fountain they were near to fill my water bottle that I carried in my hand. More compliments on my Spanish. I'm not sure if I just still mess grammar up enough to know I'm not native, but my accent's what's good...? I've seen Spaniards that look just as white as me, so it can't be the looks... You don't compliment a person you know is native on how well they speak. Or even foreigners for that matter. The only foreigners whose English I've ever complimented on were ones who were fishing for compliments on such.
I thanked them and continued through the town.
Walked a little further by a bar where two tables were having lunch on the patio. The first table of germans hailed me down.
"Hey, where are you from?"
"The United States. I don't usually where white socks with sandals; my feet are just burned. I could see how that could throw you off though."
The other table grabbed my attention.
The gentleman inquired in broken English "Where in the United States are you from?"
"California"
"There are others... California... Pilgrims... Yesterday..."
"Hablas español, no?"
"Si!"
And we began chatting in Spanish.
"Wait... You're not from California. You sound like a Mexican."
My ghetto lingo must be a dead giveaway. I make joke. I think what it tends to be that's different is Mexicans make everything cute: ahorita, aguita, lechita, ratito. They add the itos and itas to the end of all their words as if to imply everything as being so d
ainty and cute. Spainiards, not so much.
The gentleman and his sister (I thought to be his wife at the time) were enjoying lunch with a Danish lady they had just met. I chatted with them for a while. He also complimented me on my Californian accent. Why thank you. I've been working on this badboy for what's going on 25 years. Thanks for noticing.
Nah, he just said Californians talk cute.
"Well, I better keep walking in this heat."
2km, they said. Two very long kilometers.
But I got to walk through Napa Valley for part of it! Maybe not. But there were vineyards! It was nice.
I finally came to the 13th century town where I'd be staying, Cirauqui. A city on a hill. Hikes up the streets like San Francisco. All I wanted to do was get Betsy off my back. I was looking for the Parish albergue where they only receive donations rather than a fixed rate. My 2016 pdf of albergues was wrong. This ones been gone for 6 years, a local. The only albergue was 11€ per night and because it was a small town, there was no great place to sleep. And I had walked 30k+.
"We're down in the bar" the note on the desk said. A very hippy vibe in this albergue. I went for the owner and she charged me, stamped my credencial, and gave me the rundown.
"Great Spanish! Where'd you learn?" This is the last one of the trip I'll mention.
She put me in the "American ladies" room. Didn't really connect with any of them. Was that intentional? Shower, launder (in sink on the balcony with the lavender bar soap I brought with), tend to my blistered and hive-infested feet (scissors, hand sanitizer, and NewSkin). The hives must be allergy to something on the path.
The Danish gal peeked her head through the door onto the balcony. I just said a quick "hola", she left, and then I recognized her.
Sandals on. Time to see about dinner and groceries. The store had opened.
On my way down, the Danish gal, Toni, accompanied me.
She suggested buying groceries to share, so i let her pick out whatever and then we split the cost: Spanish ham, cream cheese, sliced wheat bread, and some other sliced cheese. I went to get us two Cokes from the bar, and we enjoyed our sandwiches and discussed the Camino, the places she's been to in the U.S., and politics up on the balcony of our albergue.
Bedtime. I told her I planned on leaving at 6am. Maybe we'll see eachother again.
In my room, my five other roommates slept. Two snored like bears. And the church bell would sound for the rest of the night every 15 minutes. Ironically, I slept like a hibernating bear. Thoughts before I dozed off: how blessed I am to not be sleeping on a cold concrete floor. I'm in a bed. And it's nice.
At 5:15 I awoke to most of my roommates starting their day. By 6:30 I was the only one still in bed and in the room for that matter.
I looked into Couchsurfing (free global couchsurfing app to see if the requests I'd made the night before had been accepted--one declined). At 7:15 I got up and started getting ready to leave.
Guess who I bumped into on the way to the bathroom? Yep, Toni. We were the lasts ones left in the hostel.
I made a sandwich with some leftover cheese and bread from the night before and waited for her, hoping to walk with company today.
We left our backpacks outside the hostel to go down the road to fill our water bottles at the fountain. I worries they'd get stolen, but when we got back they were still there.
We were on our way out of Cirauqui. Wishing us happy trails was a garden made into a map of the world. So neat. As we took pictures, here came Alyssa (the girl from my graduating class at Del Oro) with a group. I had assumed she'd be towns ahead of me.
Toni and I continued our walk.
We walked through two towns together. (for three or so hours). She reminded me of a mix between my friend Maddie's mom and another gal I know. I got to know a lot more about Denmark and her life. She's a neat gal.
During our walk we came upon a cheery tree! Grace. Barbed-wire kept us limited in what we could reach, but don't doubt that I risked a gash in my elbow to fill a ziplock bag of cherries. I'd started the day in Tevas and socks (for blister's sake) but used or stop to change to boots. I regretted it within minutes.
We stopped in the first town. As I waited on a bench inside a bar (Toni was using the restroom/getting water) a man I'd met a few days earlier offered to buy me something to drink, but I declined. Grace?
We left again for the next town. Toni asked me to stay on the lookout for a walking stick. Found a stick on our walk. Success.
It was so sunny and hot today. Shade was rare and precious. After resting in a shady spot for several minutes, Toni offered me a pomegranate licorice drop from Denmark. Grace. I need to get these! So good. Back to tevas.
2nd town. There was a swimming pool. We stopped and I inquired the cost for pilgrim use. Toni decided to stay and go for a dip. She suggested I continue on if I were not to swim. I saw Georgia and Katie (american gals from before) and introduced them to Toni. I went on alone to next city.
Hot, tired, and gross, I finally arrived in Estella. I sat on the steps of a medieval church and ate my leftover cherries and bread.
Georgia and Katie passed by again.
Time for a 2hr nap in the shade. I even dreamed. Good, deep rest.
Estella smells like Spanish cured ham and cheese. It made me crave cheese. That should be my next stop, I thought.
A guy on a bicycle stopped by my nap area and started using drone to take videos of the church. The drone sounded like a cluster of honeybees with gas. Do bees get gas?
Brush off the dirt and twigs from my body and my Betsy, and onward I go.
First I want cheese, but everything's close. Darn siesta.
Kept walking.
Along the path I came upon a grocery store called "Simply". Cheese!!
It was kind of like a K-mart/Raleys. They even sold hiking boots. I got myself a baguette, cheese, salami, 2 bananas, 2 tomatoes, and a cold latte. This should last me a few days.
On my way.
In the next town over there were bathrooms open to the public (and I forgot to take advantage of Simply). So I stopped at the bathrooms.
I carefully considered and finally chose to take off my sports bra. My shoulders are blistered. I'm only wearing a thin cotton shirt, but I'll be walking alone, so it's okay.
I continue on only to stop at a famous wine fountain. This is the best moment of the trip yet.
This fountain of the Irache Bodegas (Irache Cellars) has an old fountain that pours out red wine. The best red wine you could imagine.
Because I came in the mid-afternoon, all the other pilgrims had already been through and only two tourists and a priest resided in the area. They quickly left and I was left all to myself. I cleaned out my latte cup and poured myself some wine. I broke off a piece of my baguette. I had communion. I read The Last Supper in Matthew 26 aloud and then prayed as tears streamed down my cheeks. I have been taking communion for over 21 years. Never in my life have I cried during communion. This pilgrimage is teaching me so much about so much about what Jesus Christ actually did for me. Not teaching my brain, but my heart. I've known all my life. I've taught the story over 50 times. I could recite it to you by memory starting with Adam in the Garden of Eden. And then backwards. But my heart has never connected to it so deeply before today. Carrying Betsy around for miles, soar and in pain, in the hot sun. And Jesus did that with a cross. That he would be nailed to. And he carried it after he'd been beat up and then whipped. What love is this?
This thought came to mind as I took the bread and wine. Not sure why I thought this, but I'm gonna leave this here as part of my account:
Bread needs wine to be complete. Eating bread makes you aware of your thirst and need for wine. The law makes us aware of our sin and our need for the blood of Christ.
A few people passed by as I savored my wine. A van with two creepy men pulled up. One toothless. They were smoking and filled up their bottles with wine. Right next to the sign that says "Please don't abuse our generosity."
I got nervous. They were speaking in Basque. After their bottle was full, they jumped in their janky, blue van and continued down the same path I was supposed to. What of they were heading to the same town I was? What if they were to wait for me there?
Maybe I'll take the alternate route in case.
I headed down the road and bumped into a group of greek guys making a documentary about The Camino called The Quest (@tvshowquest).
I was a little skeptical to go with them since they're all men, but just prayed for protection and trusted God to signal. "Don't be scared. You can come with us," assured Alkis.
They're doing the Camino similarly to me. Sleeping in tents and living cheaply.
At first I just walked with Alkis and Soltiris, but later Dinos and Polis caught up, too.
We stopped at a campground with a sports center and pools. Alkis had me ask about prices. 60€ for 5 people and 2 tents. Ridiculous. We left.
I enjoy listening and guessing the topic of their discussions in Greek. And I'm already making a list of new words.
We walked and chatted. Should've kept my bra on though...
They stop to smoke. We stop to rest.
All four of them are over 30 years old working on this documentary show.
They have over 50 kilograms in equipment alone. I think they're trying to set me up with Tolis, the youngest. He used to be a barista in a coffee shop. He's the director and editor of the show. I'm making it a point to be open about my faith and my morals to maintain respect and prevent anything else. They're Greek Orthodox, but they get it. And you know how in My Big Fat Greek Wedding Gus has super Greek pride? That's a real thing.
When Dinos and Tolis still hadn't caught up with us yet:
Me: "Your friends will find their way, they're smart guys."
Alkis: "Of course they are smart. They are Greek."
I laughed silently.
We made it to the first town, but the only place open was too expensive. The Black Pearl. After we left Alkis said he was pretty sure the lady there was a witch. I wouldn't know.
Another 2km and we arrived to Villamayor de Monjardin.
We found a bar. They got beers. I got coffee. They shared their sandwiches with me. Grace.
I bumped into the Spaniards from that small town that liked my Californian accent. They're so nice.
Hives on my legs. :-(
We already found a general place for their tents. I'll sleep in the grass next to them. I'll insist.
Tomorrow we'll share the food I bought today. Alkis and I shook on sharing. I feel okay. I feel protected.
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