So I am two days behind on my blog - that's tragic really considering this is when all the exciting stuff happens - like so exciting that I decided to vomit up my stomach lining! - but more on that later :)
I woke on Thursday morning feeling tired. My body took a while to kick into gear. I had spent 2 hours on the internet the night before between 12 and 2am as I was strangely wide awake. I put my lethargy down to that.
The night before was wonderful. I shared a room with a 2 Germans, and a French. One of the German's, Andrea, was lovely and spoke great english. She had had a stroke (she looked no older than 35) and was told she would never walk, talk or live independently again. Now she is on Camino. She had to relearn everything and even now has to think about every step she takes, but wow, what a story. We were served the most amazing food too! Outside the rain was setting in. We all prayed that it was disappear by the next day.
Not so. Thursday morning we woke to the sound of the steady rain. I water-proofed everything in my bag, then left... Head down ready for a tough one. The sun appeared every now and then, but for the most part, it was one hell of a wet day. The pilgrims all looked like versions of the hunchback of Notre Dame in their ponchos covering their packs of a variety of colors. The path was crowded too. So many school kids and groups of adults who were on the track without packs (getting them sent on), talking and playing loudly and I guess lacking that sense of respect for the other pilgrims. A group of noisy 12 year olds ran past me at one stage, forcing me off the track. I guess these last 100km are rather popular, and I probably sound like a tainted, old pilgrim, but for some pilgrims, these last 100km were serious.
I arrived, rather saturated, at around 1pm at my Albergue to a signed door that read: 'Completo'. 1pm wasn't a bad time either. Usually this sign would appear after 3pm or so. I was angry at the new pilgrims. They could run, with their fresh legs, healthy feet, their pack-less weight and take the available accommodation. It didnt seem fair. I had considered walking further today. Stopping where I did, meant that I would still have 20km to walk to Santiago the next day. If I did this, it was possible that I would miss my pilgrim mass. You see, when a pilgrim arrives in Santiago, they go to the pilgrims office, get their 'compestella' or certificate, then go to the mass when it is read by the priest that '1Australian from St Jean Pied de Port to Santiago'. This was important to me. However, being a day earlier than I had expected meant that I could get their Friday and do this on the Saturday.
I was feeling tired and the 'completo' sign had arisen a sense or urgency to find accommodation in this town, knowing that accommodation between here and Santiago was limited and mostly more expensive hotels to capture the tourists. I wandered around, feeling more exhausted by the moment. I just didnt feel right. I had eaten a piece of cake and had a coffee for breakfast - the cake had a gritty base, and it was the first time I hadn't eaten all of it. I had stopped later on the track, craving some sugar and ate some lollies, then had a muesli bar. This was my day's intake.
I eventually found an Albergue and was lucky enough to find a bottom bunk. My usually routine would be: set up my bed (at least with a sleeping bag on it so no one else would take it!), get the shower things ready and hang out the wet things, then shower. But I just laid there. I had met a girl along the way who had been vomiting the night before and didn't take my chances, moving on pretty fast to talk to the next person. I felt sorry for her, but the more dominant feeling was relief that I didn't have to deal with that! Then opposite me at the Albergue was an unwell girl who had developed a serious throat infection. I thought it best that I get out of the room, so I went and showered. I just didn't feel right though. I got back to my room, and laid there. I watched the sick girl, all of sudden feeling a sense of empathy. Then it happened... The rush. The 'get something to stick your head it now, 'cause this ain't going to be pretty' type rush. I ran to the toilet. I ran there 4 times in the hour. The reception to my 'unusual noises' in the toilet could be broken into 2 groups. The motherly type who would ask if I was ok - to which I would reply 'yes' - what else was I going to say? Then those who would finish their business within seconds, flush and leave. I preferred these type better. After my marathon hour, I laid on my bed exhausted. Then came the noise. The woman beside me had started heaving - but not all civilized like in the toilet, nope, in the room, shared with 18 other pilgrims. I didn't care. But she sure cleared the room!
No one really in the room knew that it was me providing the 'murder scene' sound track in the toilet. No one had stuck around long enough to see me come out. I knew I needed one thing - water. Not water from the tap, mineral water from a bottle. This meant I had to make an epic journey down 2 flights of stairs, and work out the stupid vending machine. I couldn't do it. In the bunk bed above me, I had a Chinese man, who gave me sympathetic looks each time I got back from the toilet. He was my target. I stood up, I gave my tummy a rub and shook my head... 'agua?' I asked. I handed him a €5 note. He got to it straight away, but not the vending machine, he walked a few blocks to the supermarket and bought me a 1.5ltr bottle. Human kindness. So lovely. He went to hand me the change. I refused. He took my hand, turned it, and forced the change into it, giving me a smile. Grateful, I laid back on the bed. I knew I had to drink - but I knew where it was going to end up, "But it will flush your system out", said the parental figure in my head. I forced a few mouthfuls, and as predicted it did not stay. But I continued this over and over again. Around 930pm I made yet another run to the toilet. The same "are you ok?" in broken english came from the cubical next door. "yes" I replied in a croaky 'not fine' voice. As it had happened everytime, the flush occured quickly, the toilet door closed, leaving me alone in the room to gather some dignity to walk back out. Someone walked back in to the toilets. "Open the door", came the voice from a few moments ago. With sweat pouring off me, still catching my breath, I opened the door. There, a Chinese girl, from the same group of Chinese that the man was from, stood, holding four small pink pills and a bottle of her water. "Don't smell, just take," she instructed. I was too weak to care arguing, so I did as instructed. I felt instant relief. I laid back on my bed. The Chinese group of around 3 men and 2 women crowded around me. They felt my feet, forehead, ear lobes and got me to turn around and performed some kind of massage. I finally got some rest.
I had been listening to the woman in the bed next to mine get looked after and entertained by her husband. It was sweet, but heightened my sense of isolation. Turns out he is a German dentist. He had realized from the Chinese crew's attention to me that I had the same as his wife. He handed me 2 Imodium tablets. "Take these" he instructed, "One now and one in the morning.". I told him about the 4 pink pills and said I would give them a chance. He shook his head at my preference for 'alternative medicine'. However, at around 11pm, they too proved unsuccessful. So I popped the Imodium. Finally, a nights sleep.
I didn't know what I was going to do the next day. Whether I should walk, ask to stay in the Albergue, walk just a little? I would make up my mind when everyone else got up. Which they did - far too quickly!
I felt weak. No food, hardly enough water and my body ached. I sent a message to my sister to let her know what was happening and why no blog. Tears streamed down my face. I wanted to walk - if only for a few km's. But it was going to hurt. I slowly got myself ready, and left by 7am.
The track was a dirt one. It was slippery from the rainfall. I felt like rubbish. Each step was a damn effort. I kept thinking how close I was to Santiago, but how far away it seemed. I am not sure when they started, but there have been little track markers along the way at 500m intervals, letting the weary pilgrim know how far or how close it was to Santiago. Usually these pass with speed, but today, i took me 1 hour to just pass 4 of them. I was craving some fresh orange juice. At the first chance, I stopped at a cafe and ordered a juice and some toast. I ate it, hoping to feel some instant relief. It did not come. I felt dizzy and tired. Then I read the words 'hotel'. The cafe was adjoined to one! I asked the waitress, through tears (couldn't help them ok!) if I could stay. She asked me to wait an hour for the cleaners to finish. I think they could tell that I wasn't right and got me a room within 20mins. Here I was able to Facebook (feel some love) then sleep for around 6 hours straight. The bug was gone. Recovery now.
I remember walking with an Austrian man just a few days ago. He said that he had not booked his accommodation ahead once yet on Camino. He believed that you had to walk with some tension as a pilgrim otherwise it was like one big walking holiday. I thought about my journey - yep, definitely some tense moments! Defiantly not classed as a big walking holiday!
So, if everything goes to plan (which often on Camino, it doesn't!) then I should make it to Santiago by 10am-ish. The church dance, well, I will make that around 10pm your time - 2pm mine! I will dance for you all - looking like a complete tool in front of many who come to the cathedral for spiritual purposes! I may get another pilgrim to dance with me - you know, take the spot light off me! Haha!
It is overcast outside at the moment... I am going to go shower, and have some dinner in the restaurant here before the 'real' hotel guests make their way down. Then I shall sleep and then walk my final leg of the Camino.
Buenos noches amigos... Much love...
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