So I had dinner with a neuro surgeon last night! I made myself at home in a little restaurant close to my over crowded Albergue (pretty sure if all 120 inhabitants jumped at one time and entire place would crumble!). It's easy to distinguish a pilgrim in a restaurant. While everyone wears neatly pressed pants and floral frocks, pilgrims tend to stick to a crinkled ensemble of cargos and crocs.
I sat at one table and a gentleman came in shortly after and found another table nearby. We started talking across the room, but it was awkward with the other patrons, so I ended up inviting him to sit with me. We exchanged the usual information: name, (Mark), age, (31), nationality, (Russian), why camino? (read about it), how are you going? (cycling, so taking it easy!), what do you do for work, (neuro surgeon)... wait on, come again? Due to his poor English skills and my complete lack of Russian, we were half talking, half playing charades. He saw the look of... well I don't quite know how I looked - shocked, confused... and he proceeded to repeat himself with hand movements that could be likened to rummaging though a small purse with both hands. "You know, a neuro surgeon", he repeated.
All of a sudden I became acutely aware of how he was cutting his steak... Delicately I might add! We went on chatting, no, exchanging stunted sentences, and he commented on my skin. "You...out in sun....and still so white!" .... Well excuse me! I was actually quite happy with the progress of my bronze spanish glow... What would a neuro surgeon know anyway?
We finished dinner and like a gentleman, he walked me to my Albergue. There you go, my entertainment for the evening!
I went to bed early and was going to indulge in a sleep-in knowing that I had a reservation in the next stop, around 22km away. I had received an email from my flight company, jetabroad, saying that my flights home had been changed for the third time and that I may need a transit visa for China. I had asked them for an alternative airline to travel home with but I needed to send this to them by 3pm their time, 7am my time! The early bird pilgrims, bless them, got up around 5am and because the entire Albergue practically creaks when you roll over in bed, everyone woke up!
I sent my email off hit the track by 630am, a beautiful time to be up anyway.
I noticed that my pack today felt heavier. My mind went straight for a life type metaphor, you know, you can carry burdens for months and not feel their weight until you have carried them too far etc etc, but then I felt the straps around my waist were hanging lower and I tightened them - heaps better. So either I have lost weight or my straps have loosened over time... Based on the number of 'Magdalena' cakes I have been eating, am going to run with the latter!
About 2km out of Astorga, a woman all of a sudden appeared beside me from out of the bushes. We both laughed at her sudden appearance! She said that she had been following a pilgrim who had become disorientated when she lost concentration and stopped following our beloved yellow arrows. These arrows, spray painted, or laid out in a rock formation, forming parts of elaborate graffitied or professionally sign posted, safely guide us through the major cities, the mountains to the valleys and finally, to Santiago. Instead, the lost pilgrim followed a path that lead to nowhere! We discussed how dangerous it is to follow pilgrims, even though it may seem as though they are going to same way as you (this happened to me too around day 3 so my lesson was learnt early!) You only see their back, so you can never be sure their eyes are open... Instead, you need to keep your eyes on the arrows, the constant and reliable guide. - could be another life analogy in that! ;)
We walked for a couple of km's together speaking of our lives and over the 20mins we shared company, she seemed to learn a lot about me and left me with the words... "Allow yourself to forgive and simply live. The camino will cleanse you from the inside"... And this all happened in the first 5km! It was going to be an epic day!
Straight after she parted from my side, I came across a little cafe in the quaint Spanish town of Murias de Rechivalda. The aroma of fresh coffee and cooking toast, the warm timber exterior and interior, the clinking of cups and forks from satisfied pilgrims inside all to the backdrop of a soft Barry White, seduced even the keenest of pilgrims into dropping their pack and settling in for some breakfast! Here, I sipped on the best Earl Grey tea, sweetened with honey from the owner's brother's honey farm, complimented with a slice of spelt cake (not sure if that is how it is spelt - haha - get it!?)
Today was the beginning of a serious ascent to the highest point in the Camino where stands the Cruz de Ferro at 1505m (4940ft) above sea level. This climb is harder than the Pyrenees, which so brutally welcomes the fresh pilgrims to the Camino on day 1.
But I loved the climbing! I think it was partly because the terrain reminded me of Tasmania walking, and the fact that I was surrounded by nature. I relished in every pain that traveled up my legs, every drip of sweat that rolled down my nose from behind my sunglasses, in every step on the amazingly steep incline! I was so excited about the climb, that I arrived at my days destination at 11am - far too early to stop. I have noticed a pattern. The days I stop early are the days I keep the local bakery open with my custom! So I had a tortilla for lunch, and continued for another 6km slog of up up and more up - fantastic! I think I had had enough of exercising my mind on the flat and it was time to kick the body into gear and earn my shower at the end of the day. And it was hot today, around early 30's and the wind turbines in the distance stood deadly still. Based on how my legs feel currently, I earned the shower! - speaking of legs, the injured one is feeling great! The tendonitis is slowly going. Less swelling, more mobility! Thank you youth! (are you still considered young at 27?)
So I am residing in a convent this evening that has been converted into an Albergue. It's nice enough, however, next door I found an absolute gem! It is a little medieval bar and restaurant with candles that sit in holders that are no longer visible under the countless layers of dripped wax. The crockery is hand made and the wine is served in heavy clay jugs. There are huge cow hides that hang on the stone walls and the tables all wobble on the uneven rustic stone floor. I feel like I have stepped back in time and any moment now, a knight, dressed in his heavy armor will walk in, slam his iron fist on the bar and demand a drink after a win at the local jousting comp. There is music playing of flutes, violins and guitar, the sort of music that you would hear in Narnia!
I love collecting musical instruments from the counties I visit... Here I purchased some traditional castanets! Please be kind Australian customs! There is a table with about 15 male cyclists all getting merry on vino and they came over and taught me how to play them! No idea what they were saying to me, but, hey, thanks guys!
Well, on that note, I am going to enjoy my surrounds of endless valleys, and have just been recommended the 'Bambi' which appears on the menu here... Because that eases ones conscience! :)
Ciao!
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