I, on the other hand, sleep until a quarter to seven. Getting ready to go in the morning is so quick. 7 min tops. I sleep in my clothes for the day. Most of my getting-ready time is allotted to packing Betsy.
We meet in the cramped dining hall that is meant for 14, but is packed with 24. Jam, toast, crackers, and burnt coffee. Donativo, so can't complain much.
Our group splits up. Goodbye David and Father Stanley. Goodbye Dennis. See you in a bit, Olya.
Lainey, Chris, and I looked for a bar to have breakfast. Any open bar. Just one. Any one. It's 7:30 and all of them are closed still. One has an opener just now setting up its patio.
We decided to site-see for a bit in the meantime. We went to check out another building designed by Gaudí. We walked past it twice because it was so normal looking, we didn't even think it was the one until we found the small sign that indicated it indeed was.
We then walk the other way to the Cathedral. It's huge, lovely, and the windows are ornate. Like gothic flowers. We take pictures in front of it and find a Dennis! And with Dennis we also find some other Americans from Seattle (John & Elizabeth--she's originally from England). The six of us look for breakfast again and settle on a sweets shop. They're overpriced and their pastries are crumbly rather than flakey. I was disappointed. I zoned out of the conversation to catch up on blogs as I waited for the internet/copy store to open where i'd have to spend some time filling out some online paperwork and printing for my nursing program in a few months. Olya came by after mass and finished breakfast with us on the patio. I excused myself at 9:30 to head to the shop.
The whole enrollment process and signing up for classes was so irritating. The registration codes weren't working, they hung-up on me when I called the first time, what they wanted me to mail them was unclear and redundant, and the timeline was 5 days. Everything going poorly put me in a bad mood. I had to ask several people for directions to photo shop to get file pictures taken. Then a post office to express this bulky packet to them. I think I was irritated by feeling out of control of so many things. Different language and different cultural norms are a weakness for me here, and it makes me feel helpless. This next year is going to be one of the hardest in my life, but it will also birth the most growth in my character and understanding.
I finally got all my errands for school done in Leon by 12:30. In the meantime I also got to know the city pretty darn well.
I headed to a bar to charge my phone, potty, and grab some grub before I started my 20+km trek to meet up with my buddies at our decided hostel. After I annihilated my Spanish ham bocadillo, I read a little of my book, cleaned up and headed on my way.
I passed by a fruteria and picked up some nectarines, oranges, and cherries. The nectarine I bit into right out the door tasted like a peach-oh candy. My tongue and brain were so pleased and confused.
As my nectarine and I were navigating our way out of the city, there were some strange parts of the path where a foot bridge takes you over the tops of the buildings. The part of town I was in didn't seem like the best part of town, but I've been in worse by myself.
As I passed a three young guys that looked a little on the shady side, I heard one say to his friend, "Gus, let's go with this pilgrim."
Is he referring to me?
I didn't care to find out.
I hurried my little white butt in the fastest power-walk down the bank of that street as I simultaneous made my pepper spray more accessible in my front hip pocket and visualized the most efficient way to access my pocket knife if the need should arise. I looked back occasionally as I sped past the shops. For five minutes they continues behind me. Then they were gone. I continued a rapid pace even still.
The Camino leaving Leon takes you up some hills past some unprecedented cellars built into the hills covered by dead grass and weeds with just chimneys as indicators of their presence. After the cellars came the industrial zone. And in the desolate industrial zone is where I acquired a great urge to relieve my bowels.
Maybe I could go behind a building...
Maybe I could go behind generator hut...
Maybe I could go in the weeds...
I'll hold it.
I can't.
Yes, i can.
I can make it.
There's a bar over there up that hill on the distance. I can make.
Wait, that huge shop has that big window bashed in. Maybe it has a bathroom... Too risky. The bar.
The bar is closed. It's for rent though.
Okay, it looks like I'm approaching another town.
Furniture. Furniture. Mattresses.
Grocery.
I stumble through the door.
"Hello."
"Hi, do you have something? I mean do you have a bathroom?" I fumbled in Spanish.
"No, sorry. No bathroom," the clerk chuckled.
"Okay, thanks."
A bar. It looks like there's bar up ahead. I continued my speed walk all the more. First more welcoming bar's closed. I guess I'm going into the one with the witch on the sign.
Desperate calls.
I order a coke from the curly-haired, middel-age bartender as plop Betsy by a barstool and run, not walk, to the bathroom door.
Relief. But I also discovered my colitis is flaring up, which explains the unpredictability and urgency of that whole ordeal which would otherwise not have had such.
Anyway, I sat down at the stool and poured by can of coke into the tall glass with one large ice cube at the bottom. I'm a solely international soda drinker. Cane sugar used to sweeten it makes it nearly irresistible, unlike the corn syrup we use in the states.
As I sat down and got started on some small talk, she offered me a small plate of Spanish rice on the house. I gratefully accepted.
"Can you do me a favor?" she leaned over the bar. She proceeded to tell me (with countless obscenities) about how she just open her bar a week ago the bar next door before her gets all the clients. She says the entice them in. Honestly, I think it has a lot more to do with there being a witch on her sign maybe. She asked me to make a post on Facebook about her restaurant or to post in a forum. I'm gonna tell you about it in this blog. It's called Bar A Meiga in La Virgen del Camino.
We got talking about how I learned Spanish. Which led to her telling me to never get married, just have many boyfriends. Which led to me asking more about her life as I sat on a bar stool and she sat and smoked a cigarette at the doorway. We were the only two in the bar.
As she told me more about herself and her hobbies, combined with noticing the decorations and adding up the name of her bar, I quickly realized she was a practicing witch. Possibly a dark one at that.
"There is no such things as true happiness. We can chase it all we want, but we will always be disappointed."
"You know, I've found true happiness in gratitude. When we are grateful for what God gives us, whether it's little or much, we will always find true happiness."
She shrugged her shoulders.
I could tell my positive nature was overwhelming her, so I gulped the last of my coke. She offered to fill my water bottle for me.
"Well, I guess I'll continue on. I'm going to be praying as I walk, so is there anything I can be praying for you for?"
"Suprise me."
I thanked the gal and was on my way.
I started praying the moment I was out the door. I started by praying for myself. I believe in spirits; both good and bad. I didn't get the best vibes from her bar, so I prayed away any bad spirits that might've followed me out. Then I prayed for the gal. That God would make her business unsuccessful until she reconciled with Him. And that He would provide the ways for her to reach that trust and true happiness in His Grace. That He would bring more people or circumstances into her life to create a questioning in her heart of her lifestyle and a draw to a life with Jesus.
As I continued along the Camino it took me off to a loose blacktop path. For 1km scattered along the path were thin, ratty braids of grey hair every five or so feet. It really freaked me out. I think even more so because I was just with a witch. I just got power walking again.
I went through a few towns. I played my uke going through one. I stopped at a bench to eat an orange and some cherries and make some instant coffee at another. I continued on.
The last 4 mile stretch was were I turned some music on speaker on my phone. Suddenly I hear a small, sweet voice yell "Adios!" as an elderly granny on a vintage street bicycle speeds past me on the country road. It was adorable.
I finally got to the albergue in Mazarife where Lainey, Chris, and Olya were. Even though they'd already been there for two hours, the four of us were still able to be in a room for for together. It was stuffy, but nice.
The albergue had a pool, a kitchen, and writings and drawings all over the walls from past pilgrims.
I took a dip in the pool while the others put their feet in and we all munched on the cherries I brought. I showered and did laundry. Some ladies from Ashland, OR shared their left-over vegetable stew with us. So kind.
Chris and Lainey went for groceries while I stayed back in the kitchen to cook the noodles. We made a delicious vegetarian pasta and had red wine and bread to accompany it.
I found some yoga pants in the bin of things left by other pilgrims. I've been looking for a pair to take or even buy for over a week. These fit perfectly.
A lovely day indeed.
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