TravelStream™ news feed for member prinzni on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/prinzni en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sun, 05 Jul 2009 16:23:31 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/prinzni/1/1246824134/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/prinzni/1/1246824134/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/prinzni/1/1246824134/tpod.html Sun, 05 Jul 2009 16:23:31 -0400 El Camino del Peregrino Loco

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Astorga, Castille and León, Spain

Weather: hot and sunny
Morale: ok (cursing the guide though because of 32km in total instead of the proposed 26km.)
Walking: mostly with Blake and Sophie, last part alone
Body: as usual
Waldis done today: none
Met: Blake & Sophie, the Swiss girls, Lily

Yesterday in the Albergue de Jesús Villar the Mazarife, I met the Australian couple Blake and Sophie again. In brotherly spirit they offered me food and water, and after a strenuous walk I was more than glad to accept it. They're on a budget and are cooking pasta almost every day. It is incredible how long you can walk on pasta without growing tired of it, so they tell me.

Today, I meet them again in the first village on the road, and we walk together for most part of today’s stage. I learn a lot about Australia, its history and its role in Second World War. We come across a group of preschool children with their teachers. They cross the street in front of us and I notice that they are all bound together with a rope so that none of them can run away. I can’t help but wonder that in case of a car accident, the casualties would be so much higher because of this. Looks like bad pedagogy to me anyway.

The blind girls from Switzerland accidently leave their lunch bags behind, but neither Blake and Sophie nor I feel much obliged to take them with us. Bag’s already heavy enough as it is.

My left foot is starting to hurt and in the end I can’t keep up the pace. So while Astorga is already visible, I have to stay behind and let Blake and Sophie continue. In the end I need almost two hours to get to Astorga. Most of the time I’m walking on Dire Straits – Walk of Life and the like. So very fitting.

In Astorga, there is Lily in the albergue, Max and Petra and of course Agnesa who came here by train today. We take a stroll through the village and have dinner together. Once more, I am one of the last to return to the albergue before it closes.
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Villar de Mazarife, Castille and León, Spain

Weather: hot and sunny (30+ degrees) during the day, cold (~ 6 degrees) in the evening

Morale: low

Walking: mostly alone

Body: aching

Waldis done today: 4 (due to going lost)

Met: Max and Petra, Susann, Barbara and Gertje (the blind girls from Switzerland and their guide), Nora & Cilia (two girls from Germany who have their very own reasons to do the Camino, yet do it together as old childhood friends)

In the beginning, I told myself: "I'm doing the Camino for a week or so, and if I don't like it anymore, I'm going for someplace else." Yet when I had begun the Camino, this wasn't an option anymore, even though I definitely didn't like it, at least at some point. To the contrary, my ambition was aroused to finish the Camino. Always meeting the same people brought up some kind of sportsmanlike competition. I wanted to be faster than this one, and I didn't want to be overtaken by that one. Regarding the spiritual dimension the Camino is supposed to have, this may sound a little bit odd.

Following the Camino is relatively easy. It's unidirectional, and everybody walks the same way. All follow the yellow markers, all have the same goal. You just have to go with the flow. Although, at least you have to walk for yourself and that is hard enough. Thinking about alternatives... I couldn't come up with any. So I just walked on, because the Camino is interesting enough in itself; a challenge and therefore a meaning.

Speaking about meaning: Life is too short to leave the fundamental things for later. Take one of my Camino friends, for example, who told me that he had worked all his life and never left home for more than three weeks in a row. He is now grandfather and in walking the Camino, he is fulfilling himself a childhood dream.

In theory, you should do every moment what you really want to do. Everything else is wasting your precious time, for time is but scarce and always getting less. The difficulty lies in putting this insight into practice, being able to honestly claim to "do what I really want to do". How many people can say that? If you're stuck with doing something for say thirty years, it will be very hard to change your course of life. Now, on the other hand, for everything in life you need money, which in turn has to be earned. So the challenge remains: How can I do what I want to do while earning the money I need to survive?

If anyone knows an answer to that question, you input is very much welcome. For now, I will continue to walk the Camino.
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León, Spain

Austrian poem of great social and political importance:

So geht man im Leben
der eine geht nach Santiago
der andere geht nicht nach Santiago
...
Da dap da dap da da dada da!

Der eine pilgert los von St. Jean
Der andere fangt gleich gar nicht an
Der eine geht 800 Kilometer nach Santiago
Der andere fliegt mit dem Flieger und wor donn a do

So ist das Leben
der eine pilgert nach Paris
der andere fliegt mit dem Flieger
wie das Leben halt so is.
Da dap da dap da da dada da.

(let google translate)

It's only 12 kilometres today. We are in no hurry to get to León, as Agnesa is already there checking out a pension for us. So we are among the last to leave around 9 am, and three hours later, we arrive at León almost fresh and just warmed up. The hustle and bustle of the big city is a stark contrast to the loneliness and quietude of the meseta. Pilgrims are all about the place, but here they mingle with business men and housewives going on about their duties. Pilgrims, tonight we will dine in León. (Harrugh!)
We meet Nicolette in a bar just around the corner of our pension. She's trying to work for her final exam (I wonder why you would want try to do that on the Camino), but soon gives up and joins us for a chat. Being really hungry, Petra suddenly has a strong craving for burgers, so we decide to drop in at the Burger King around the corner. It is closed; we are too early. As Burger King just isn't the same to her, we start looking for a McDonalds. After walking for almost 40 minutes, we find it alongside the river. Hurray! We're the only customers, but what customers we are! We eat like we've hadn't had anything for about a week. Satisfied, we leave McDonalds behind and decide to go shopping.
It is a difficult concept to grasp though, being pilgrims and walking for almost three weeks now, and my mind has to struggle to get the idea down. Anyway, as a (according to a local) supposed ten minutes stroll converts itself to a full hours walk across the city, I am pleased to see the pilgrimage included even there. At the shopping mall, I get a new super light jacket (it does get cold by the night and in the morning) and another SD card for the camera (first one with 1.7k pics is already full). Afterwards, we return to our pension. Lovely room with a view, bathroom of our own, no curfew, and all for just double the price of the standard albergue. Incredible, Agnesa did a really good job here.
We decide to eat out at a Chinese restaurant, take a stroll afterwards and return to our quarters around 11 pm. Tomorrow is going to be another hard day after all.
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Puente Villarente, Spain

Agnesa decides to take the train. That's the only reasonable thing to do, acknowledging the fact that she is barely able to walk today. I hope she will recover soon, some days of rest in León should do her good. I have two days to go - first to Puente Villarente, which is 12 kilometres outside León, and then to León itself on the next day, trying to get there early to be able to explore the city a little bit.
At this point, the Camino follows the main traffic route, so every now and then there are cars speeding by. The road traffic is a stark contrast to the nature of my journey, which is all about slowing down, decelerating, crossing a country the slowest way possible. Still, there are different paces you can walk, and while a slower pace might make you see and experience more of the country itself, it probably won't get you to your destination by the evening. Now there is this challenging aspect to the Camino, the lingering questions: Am I able to cover a certain distance in a given time? Am I able to do it at all? How fast are the others? Am I with the group, ahead or have I fallen behind? I daresay that these questions at least form part of my motivation to go on. There's no way ignoring them, because the Camino definitely is a strain on your body and mind, and just assuming the attitude of "I'm taking a slow walk to experience everything" won't get you very far. Well, if you had two months time, it might, but then again, part of the experience is in the other pilgrims that you get to know and come to like along the way. Walking slower than the rest just won't get you that.
I wonder if this might be some parable for life itself. Everyday life is hectic and fast-paced, and time passes by without being noticed, and before you realise, another year of your life has gone and you wonder where it went. This is the point where you want to slow down, experience less, but in more detail. However, you start thinking that while doing so, you miss out on opportunities, and eventually lose touch to the people around you who stay with the flow. So you engage yourself in hectic activity once more, lose the feeling but stay connected with the rest. The key seems to find the thin line, the right balance. In the third chapter of Ecclesiastes, Solomon puts it this way: "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." I'd say in my own words, there is a time to run and a time to linger. Everything that is worthy to be done will be accomplished in its own time.

With thoughts returning to the track, my eyes suddenly fix upon a green cover lying on a stone monument beside the Camino. Curious, I pick it up and open it. My eyes grow wide: there is every personal document one might have inside, including a cash card. Now someone is in serious problems. What to do now? Leaving it behind doesn't seem sensible, and taking it with me covers the risk of missing the owner who frantically searches for it. Although on second thought, it might be hard to miss someone who retraces the Camino backwards frantically searching for his wallet. So I leave a Camino mail message both on the Camino and the main road (in case someone uses a taxi to get back here) and move on, with the green cover stuck clearly visible outside my backpack. While walking, I ask everybody if they have seen the Frenchwoman whose documents I now carry with me. This goes so far as me, scratching together my feeble bits and pieces of French, asking some French bicycle pilgrims to look out for her further upon the road.
It is not for some hours later, after having asked each and every pilgrim along the route, that I encounter the person I'm searching for outside the next bar. It's incredible, but she hasn't even realised up until now that she has lost her documents! She is grateful, but hasn't fully grasped yet what might have happened. Lucky Frenchwoman, I might say. I hand over the documents and prepare to move on.
Now, good deed accomplished for today, I realise that there's another person sitting outside the bar who I know and haven't seen for quite a while. It's Lili from Brazil, who I last saw on the second day in Zubiri, as far as I remember. Now there's quite a lot to talk about, and we team up for the next two hours. As we reach Mansilla de las Mulas, a nice lively town along the Camino, Lili decides to stay there, while I want to move on to Puente Villarente. The next surprise happens as I inspect the jolly refuge in Mansilla de las Mulas - just as I am about to leave, I bump into Helen, Lili's Australian travel companion from back then. Happy reunion! Unfortunately, we haven't got a lot of time to talk, as I don't want to linger too long because of my left foot sending signals of not wanting to walk any longer today. So it's goodbye to the two of them and me off to Puente Villarente.
The rest of the day is rather boring, as the Camino is straight along the main road, traffic increases and more and more cars speed by. As I reach the refuge in Puente Villarente around 4 pm, Max and Petra are already there. It's always jolly to see those two, especially as we always seem to bump into each other without making prior appointments of any sort. That's one of those Camino things.
Tomorrow it's only about 12 to 14 kilometres to León, which means we'll get there fairly early and have a lot of time to explore the city. It also means that the end of the meseta is near. Yay!
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El Burgo Ranero, Spain

We start out around 8 am and have breakfast in a bar, where we meet a fellow Austrian from Vorarlberg named Johannes in the company of Kathrin, a German girl. That raises the Austrian count so far to seven. The nice thing about being from a small country is that you are actually happy to see one of your countrymen when travelling a little farther abroad. That's so, I guess, because they don't come in numbers. Now, if I was German, I suppose that would have been a whole different story.
Johannes and Kathrin take the lead, we walk our own pace and soon they are gone. We are overtaken by another Korean team - father and son, from the looks of it - and I start to wonder where the Samurai has gone. I haven't seen him for quite some time now. The little Samurai has disappeared from the scene too. A regrettable thing indeed, for they both were intriguing, albeit somewhat close-mouthed characters.
Today is one of the opportunities where you can chose from two routes. There's one along the old road and another one along the very old, even ancient road. The latter one dates back to Roman times, goes by the euphonic name of Via Traiana and definitely is the choice of the day. Although, it must be said, it leads through no man's land most of the time, and civilization (and therefore water springs) is scarce. Anyway, having chosen the right path was the right choice. Soon the landscape assumes a look that reminds me of the African Savannah. Earthy brown and yellow shades dominate, and the few bushes and low trees adorning the rather dry landscape bring a subtle but appealing change to the usual appearance of the meseta. However, the most exciting thing to happen to us is the sudden appearance of an outdoor pool in the middle of nowhere. There's no housing, no water supplies or whatsoever visible, it's just an empty cracked pool along the way. Lo and behold the wonders which are impressed upon the pilgrim's tangible mind! Visions in bright daylight accompany the seeker of truth (and water), and this is only a promise of what more is yet to come! After checking on the Camera display however, there's plain evidence that the pool is really there, making it appear more of a pretty stupid undertaking than a spiritual symbol of some sort. Yet the true purpose and intent of the pool remains a mystery to us, and as we have more pressing matters to address (the sun getting hotter by the moment and the water supplies dwindling fast), we move on.
Agnesa is having problems worse than yesterday. Well, my left instep hurts too, but I have gotten used to it and at least I can walk. Now, Agnesa's problems seem to be different and increasing at an alarming rate. It quite looks like we won't make it to Reliegos, our supposed goal today. We do take an extensive rest in the next village going by the name of Calzadilla de los Hermanillos (Small socks of the little brothers?), brightened by the arrival of Yanú and Nicolette, who both look still somewhat shaky, but definitely better than the day before yesterday. Agnesa ponders on staying here, but as this is practically the definition of a jerkwater town, she doesn't want to be stuck here in case she can't go on tomorrow. The next town on this route however is Reliegos, and that would be at least another 15 kilometres. So we chose to go cross-country, navigating on poor maps and trying to get back to the main road. The next town along the main road is El Burgo Ranero, so El Burgo Ranero it is. I fear what would happen if Agnesa couldn't go on anymore in the middle of nowhere. We walk in the searing hot afternoon, slowly making our way through barren land, the only landscape variety being a canal alongside the road.
In the end, we make it to El Burgo Ranero. I have some delusions of still going the allegedly 14 kilometres to Reliegos, but Max and Petra, sitting in a bar outside their pension, get my head straight.
Having dinner with Max and Petra is becoming a tradition, and we are not to break it today. The refuge is rather shabby, but as a pilgrim, you are grateful for what you get, remember? It is a shower and a bed after all, so no complains here. Tomorrow we will have moved on and the hardships of today will just be a distant memory (chiefly due to the hardships of tomorrow, but not the point). Anyway, time to get a good cap of sleep.
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Sahagún, Spain

The guide lies, you already know that. I know that too, so as my guide suggests another 38,6 km (more like 44+ km) stage, I break the whole thing down in two. It's around 14 kilometres to Sahagún, but we manage to get there in 5.5 hours. The distance is not worth mentioning, but the time is kind of lame. Although we're not in a hurry, not by far. Walking shorter distances at a slower pace is better for the joints and muscles (or so they say).
The walk is fairly uneventful. At one point, we approach a small village with an adjactant hill that reminds me of Hobbingen. It looks like there are houses built right into the hill! Actually, these are just bodegas - wine cellars. Some seem still to be in use, others not. One is collapsed and I can enter to get an idea how the wine cellar looks from the inside. I'd like to know more about the place, so I ask a shabby-looking old man with a grey beard if he could tell me anything. He doesn't speak Spanish; of course, turns out he's a French pilgrim. So I Bonjour! him and try to get away. Unfortunately, he doesn't stop talking. Unfortunately, I don't understand a word he's saying. Unfortunately, I'm to polite to just walk away.0
Did I already tell you about the French? They are really odd. The Germans at least try to make themselves understood, and if you walk by, they greet you with "Hola". True, most of the time they fail blatantly, but you can't say they don't try. Now the French, if you greet them with Hola, they Bonjour! you. You and everybody else, even the locals. I marvel at this unique combination of arrogance and ignorance and the perseverance they show in not adapting. Every French does it, really. After being Bonjour!ed for so long, I take the habit of replying in my broadest Carinthian dialect: Schleich di! (Common greeting in Carinthia, meaning: live long and prosper somewhere else).
Apart from that, there's not much to tell. Of course we met Petra and Max again by chance, which we wouldn't have done if I hadn't wanted to go the street down instead of up, and so we end up having dinner together again. Max is not feeling well though, so it's rather early when we call it a day. Tomorrow is going to be a longer stage again, so I figure I can use the sleep.
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Terradillo de los Templarios, Spain

Again I'm a late starter, among the last to leave the refuge. However, I don't mind, because I'm fully enjoying my breakfast consisting of right-from-the-oven napolitanas, delicious fruits and ice-cold orange juice. There's nothing better to prepare you for a hard day of walking than a complete breakfast. At 8 am, I'm packed and ready to meet Agnesa outside. Today we're going to travel together again! Frankly, I wasn't sure if we would meet again on the Camino, given that I was walking faster and covering more distance in a day. Or so I thought, because here she is. A very amiable travel companion indeed, did I already mention that?
Now, today we will walk a good part of the stage on a very ancient road already used by the Romans called the Via Aquitana. It goes pretty much straight for 18 kilometres, without a well or any other water source in between. Rumour has it that they put a bar out halfway, but whether it would be open remains a mystery until we get there. So better not take any chances and fill the water bottles up to the max. Actually, water supplies add considerably to total weight, so if not necessary, I don't fill up both bottles. I wonder how it must be in the desert, what with no wells and stuff. I easily drink up to four litres per day.
Luckily for us, the sky is a little bit overcast, and the sun is partly hidden beneath the clouds. Past experience has told me that breaks are really not helping much, so I ask Agnesa if we could do the whole 18 kilometres in a go. She agrees, and so we do the first part in good time. We pass the bar, not sure whether it's open or not.
The weather holds until we reach Calzadilla de la Cueza, the village that marks the end of the Via Aquitana. My left foot is hurting badly for a break, so I sit down and have lunch, while Agnesa joins Christina and Louise at the bar. As it starts raining, I quickly put my stuff together. It doesn't rain much though, so nothing gets seriously wet. For a short time I consider staying at the local refuge, but then again, I can't let myself be beaten by mere 18 kilometres, can I?
When Agnesa returns from the bar, she tells me an amazing story. Christina had lost her bumbag, along with all the documents in it. When she realised she had left it somewhere, she actually ran back, almost crying. Now, luckily, there's Petra and Max coming a little bit later after them. They rest in exactly the same place, Petra notices the bumbag lying and around and being curious by nature, she opens it and skims through the contents. Only then she realises that it belongs to Christina, who must have gone crazy by now searching for her bumbag. And there goes Christina, running back, frantically scanning the Camino left and right for her bag. Petra, happy to help, whirls the bag above her head, shouting to Christina if she had forgotten anything. Now Christina is more than happy and thankful at the same time. Imagine what could have happened! And Petra, of all pilgrims that had passed in the meantime, finds the bumbag and decides to take it with her! That definitely is one of those Camino things, and we celebrate this as we chance to meet again in the next bar some hours later. Now there's Max, Petra, Agnesa, Christina, Louise and Gerd, who I haven't seen for some time now, sitting in the bar and socialising. Even Joanna from Poland (the girl I met outside Logroño over a week ago) enters the bar, if only to pass through to secure a bed at the adjactant refuge.
This day we make it as far as Terradillo de los Templarios, where they have a new-built refuge, which reminds us a little bit of a luxury resort for pilgrims. We've got a room with just four beds and even a shower and bathroom for ourselves. In our room - another chance - we meet Nicole from Burgos again, in the company of a Spanish guy named Yanú. Bad luck for Nicole though - both she and Yanú got sick, and what's more, today is her birthday.
So, I realise that according to plan, with today's stage I covered half of the distance of the Camino. Way to go!
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Carrión de los Condes, Spain

What a grind! Today's stage features only 20 kilometres, but they don't seem to end! My left foot is getting worse, I am really worried about that. The sinews connecting the left instep to the lower leg feel grained and I can only walk so slow. I would like to speed up but I fear that if I did I might not be able to walk anymore at all. The rest of my body hurts too, seems like my anti-inflammatory pills cease to have an effect. Maybe I'm going to put a rest to these strains in León, which is still a few days ahead.
Again, I am walking alone, due to leaving very late at 9:30 (sleeping to 7, staying in bed until 8, getting dressed, having breakfast, patching up my right ankle and my boot). The hotel was great, but now I am back on the tracks.
In the beginning, I take an alternative route, but in Villarmentero de Campos there's no other option but to return to what is maybe the most dull and lame part of the Camino, a route called Pilgrims' Highway. For miles and miles straight, the Camino follows the route 980, with no variety in landscape, sun beating down merciless, no shade, and cars speeding right beside you every minute or so. 20 kilometres never seemed so far before, and I refuse to think what distance has to be covered tomorrow. In Villacalzar de Sirga, I am really really tempted to stop for today, although it has only been 14 kilometres so far. However, after a short rest I tell myself that I feel better now and walk on. For the remaining six kilometres, I've got a lot of time to feel miserable about myself, hate the world in general and the Camino in special, reflect on my ability to endure and try out some mental escapism which, funnily enough, works quite well for a time.
Dinner tonight is white beans and lasagne, bought from the store and heated in the refuge kitchen. I'm joined by an Australian couple, Blake and Sophie, who have pasta. They are some decent fellows, and Blake even rescues me from hanging myself in the dorm room. Actually, I was just pegging out laundry on my ingenious 4m-accessory cord (you remember it from Burgos), but he meant well and given the overall mental state of us pilgrims here, you never know if suddenly someone comes down dangling on a rope crying "no more Caminoaargh!" No harm done in helping them out with a nice friendly pat on the back, saying "You know, life is beautiful man."
After my supposed suicide attempt having failed and my laundry being successfully pegged atop my bed, I take a walk outside, just in time to bump into Agnesa, Petra and Max again. I haven't seen Max and Petra since Burgos and Agnesa since Estella, so there's one happy reunion there. I learn that they have been steadily gaining on me, and this day they managed to catch up. However, they are staying at a pension, so we won't meet in the refuge later. Now the pension offers a double room for 15 Euros p.P., which is a really moderate price compared to the 8 Euros for a bunk bed in a dorm room with 40 other people. Nice. I tell them about my hotel room yesterday and they are jealous about my hot bath tub. Haha, looks like I'm going to tell a lot more people about my bath tub just to see the envying look on their faces! Tomorrow we'll meet up again, and it seems like I'm going to enjoy some company again for a change!
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Fromista, Spain

And here am I, on the 15th day of my journey, and here I belong, fighting for survival in the middle of nowhere, amongst all those princes of the universe who are starving and outnumbered but nevertheless charging the wheat fields of the meseta, eager to walk like warrior poets until they win their freedom forever or die trying.
Oh, and by the way, there are one thousand elephants trying to sneak up on me every time I am not looking. One of them stepped on my left foot, ouch, now that hurts.
Delirious? No, strangely familiar. (This is the part where mad laughter is about to arise and make the reader seriously doubt the protagonist's sanity. Let's all assume we haven't heard.)
Everybody sticks to no rising before 7 am, and so I almost enjoy a whole night full of good and refreshing sleep. I wake up a few times though because of a raging thunderstorm. So today it's the full rain gear. Even the boots have to be wrapped in plastic, because they are not waterproof but breathable instead. It's one of those either/or options - you don't get both, whatever the advertising says. For me, good air circulation is more important than waterproof skin. For most of the Camino so far, this has been a good choice.
The French call breakfast petit dejeuner - small lunch. I wonder how they would call Spanish breakfast - très petit dejeuner? As usual, it consists of a cup of coffee, some biscuits and margarine. We are even offered a second cup of coffee, wow! Seriously, I wonder how all those pilgrims can walk on biscuits and coffee. At home, I'm used to at least some fruits, a good bowl of muesli, some wholemeal bread and a cup of nice activating tea. That's a breakfast that gets me started! Here, breakfast gets me little more than starved.
After having put on my gear, I suddenly start feeling extremely well protected against the rain. There's no way I can get wet wearing all that. Yo, call me Mr. Impermeable!
Mr. Impermeable walks out last, as usual, and quite soon realises that his makeshift boot protection kit utterly fails to meet its purpose. What's more, it even attracts more water to the boots. So he detaches the cunning construction from my feet. Not wanting to throw it away on the Camino, he walks along searching for a waste bin. After one and a half hour of seachring in vain, he finds one on top of a hill. Well, who would have guessed?
Luckily, the rain starts to recede soon after and the clouds are blown away with even the sun comimg out. The inside of the boots is still dry - what a relief. With my already damaged boot and right ankle, I am not sure what walking in soaked boots would have done to my feet. Now there are quite a lot of people out today. Perhaps they all started later due to the rain. I am so used to solitude on the road that it actually annoys me finding so many people are headed in the same direction as I. Like a herd of sheep! Can't they walk their own Camino, why do they have to use mine?
As the trek passes a rest area, there's suddenly some commotion. A Hungarian lady was stung by a bee, and now her finger is swelling very badly. What's more is that she has got her wedding ring on that finger and can't get it off due to the swelling. Luckily, there's a Spanish doctor nearby and he starts trying to get the ring off using a filament method I haven't ever seen before. Good to know how it works though in case of a similar incident. I try to translate, but as the Hungarian lady doesn't speak English very well and Sandor and Neia, the Hungaro-Finnish couple, arrive timely on the scene anyway, there's no need for my well-meant intentions. With that sorted out, I walk along with Neia and Sandor for some time. Did I already mention they're artists? They do wonderful black and white shots of all the people on the Camino. I'm impressed; they definitely know what they're doing. My approach to photography is point, shoot, hope.
Later on, as I rest in a bar and wait almost 20 minutes for a bocadillo to be prepared (did I already mention the lack of service quality in Spanish bars?), my fellow pilgrims point out to me that there are two girls on the Camino who are blind, yet doing the whole thing anyway. Now that's a whole different story - I have to say that I am really impressed. Maybe I get to talk to them later, because right now I can't find a good line to start a conversation.
In the evening, I eat out with Inga, Annette and some other Danes. What's more, today I decided to allow myself the comfort of sleeping in a hotel room instead. For a reasonable 30 Euros, I get a decent, clean, snorer-free single room with actually a bathtub! Yay, hot bath tub here I come! Like a heaven-sent gift to me, a little bit of luxury on a long and dusty road. Hey, it doesn't take much on the Camino to make me happy... but this piece of bathroom furniture sure does! Yep, things are going upwards once again!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/prinzni/1/1220925600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/prinzni/1/1220925600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/prinzni/1/1220925600/tpod.html Sun, 15 Feb 2009 12:46:31 -0500 El Camino del Peregrino Loco

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Castrojeriz, Spain

I'm sick of it, get me out of here! You've got to be kidding me... all madmen, and I'm the uber madman.
Yes, I know that there was already an entry called low morale. However, this day beats it by far. I won't bore you with the details of what exactly hurts. Whatever it is, it is too much. I hate my guide! The damn thing just got the kilometres wrong. When it says 36 it is actually more like 42. Those cursed authors should have done this on their own instead of doing uneducated guesses of the distance! Oh what I just would tell them now if they were anywhere near me...
As of today, I have entered the meseta. The meseta is like a wheatfield desert. Miles and miles of harvested wheat fields stretch out over the horizon. No trees, no shade whatsoever, no people, just me and the road and endless wheat fields. Now I know why many people avoid the part of the Camino between Burgos and León. I've already thrown my stick twice and shouted the Austrian battle cry of uttermost frustration at the horizon - to no avail. There is no alternative to walking, because not walking is not an option. It's absolutely frustrating looking at the map and figuring that there should be a village nearby, just to realise that the landscape is plain fields as far as the eye reaches. Actually, you don't see this tiny village Hontanas until you actually stand above it, because it is located in a damn basin. Really, I have no idea how I made it to Castrojeriz. In the end I am quite proud that I did those 32 kilometres though (should have been 26 according to the guide). Beside the maps, the guide is utterly useless, because it is either incomplete or just plain wrong. Especially I hate the way it lies about the distances, because being able to assess more or less accurately how far you still have to go and when you are due to arrive is what keeps you walking - it's the hope that this trial will end in a discernible future. If it is wrong, I take it as a lie, and if they lie to me, it gets personal. Now here goes the warning: If you stumble upon an orange Hikeline German guide, don't buy it. They lie. There's at least two better guides out there, although, I might say, anyone might be better.
However, the frustration already ebbs away, because I am at quite a distinguished albergue called "Bei Resti" with two cool rules: 1. No mobile phones and 2. No rising before 7 am. The hospitalero Moncho is one of a kind, and just his personality makes staying at the place worthwhile. He also knows about the French woman and sympathises with me.
Now, what else to tell?
I ruined both my right ankle and my right boot, the latter being the cause for the former. Now I have an open mega blister the size of a walnut and not yet an idea what I am going to do about it tomorrow. Well, may that be the sorrow of another day. All that counts is that I'm in Castrojeriz, I've got a nice bed and a full stomach. Oh, yes, and not that it has to do with anything, but just as an odd side-note, there's Flo in the bunk bed below me.
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