A hotel, a hot bath and interesting people.
(*Note, James doesn’t have an entry here. He spent a little too much time doing what he said he would: “get drunk this eventing.”)
LARRY
My nose had been running since Logrono and the congestion had gone down into my chest during the night. More than once that day my vision became tunnel vision and I knew I needed to do something before long. I was thankful I hadn’t had the opportunity to walk with Dominique the day before, it could have been a real problem. When we got to Burgos I was glad when James checked us into a hotel and I was able to sweat in out in a very hot tub of water and then sleep for a couple of hours. Sweating it out has always worked for me and a couple of hours of sleep afterwards makes the world a nicer place.
James was gone when I got in the tub and hadn’t returned by the time I woke up from my nap. After getting dressed in my clean Camino clothes, I walked to the plaza where most of those involved with the Camino were going to meet. I found James at a table with a couple of people I knew, one the man from Brazil, and a man I hadn’t met before, and never saw again, who was from somewhere on the East Coast of the US. In front of them was a very large collection of empty beer and wine bottles and glasses.
The man from the US was interested in talking politics, which interests me about as much as being stung by a swarm of bees, so I talked with the man from Brazil. I thought he might be a little less than friendly but he wasn’t. The night before at Ages I’d made him roll over when he was snoring.
He told me he was an engineer and lived in Rio de Janeiro. He had a beer, with a pain pill, and told me that he had to be in Santiago by a specific date because his wife was coming to meet him. I asked why he didn’t take the bus and then take a day or 2 off to see if his knees would feel any better but he said he “had to do it all” and in a specific time frame. He also said that he’d gone to see a doctor and the doctor told him the same thing I did. We never saw him again and I’ve wondered how much long term damage he did to his knees with his “had to” attitude.
James wanted to make contact with Kirsten so we went to the alberque where someone said she was staying. It was in an old church and when we went up the flight of stairs to the upper floor dormitory I knew I had to leave.
The place reeked heavily of incense with a heavy underlying moldy smell. I went outside and waited while James talked with Kirsten. My overall opinion of the alberques to that point, and it wouldn’t change, was the municipals and privates were generally OK but the parish and church run ones ae less than good. Most of the church and parish alberques were in centuries old, stone buildings, were cold, damp and moldy. Also, most people you encounter in the church type alberques, are volunteers. Not all volunteers, volunteer. Many are forced into the job by peer pressure, were “shoulded on” by others until they did something they didn’t want to do, or felt they had to do it because of their cultural beliefs, like it or not.
The word hostel and other similar words have the same roots as hospital. Many of the towns along the Camino have hospital in their name. I was later told that swinging incense in the churches came from the early pilgrim times. It was done so others could be in church with the smell of unwashed and unhealthy pilgrims.
When I went back to St. Jean Pied de Port in southern France to do the part I’d missed, I found that the first few days there was a reasonable amount of people who walked in sandals, the same as the original pilgrims. Their feet were covered with blisters, some with red lines, the beginning signs of infection. That hadn’t been the case when I had started in Estella. I think that most of those wearing sandals had either decided by Estella that it wasn’t worth the pain and changed to something more suitable, dropped out from infections or just not being able to walk any further because of the shape their feet were in.
Later on the Camino very few who wore the more traditional garb, less sandals, were still present. I can understand why the traditional garb might not be pleasant or present. Walking 20K or more a day and having material resembling a burlap sack continually gnawing at your skin would seem less than acceptable. Those that were still in traditional garb seemed to have the attitude that anyone who was there and not dressed as they were was obviously not on a religious pilgrimage. Burlap and sandals make it easy to understand why they might be a little cranky. In my case at least, they were correct. I view religion and spirituality as 2 different things. I found many spiritual things along the route but religion, by its normal definition, wasn’t one of them.
Many people from many places, had many reasons for doing the Camino. As far as I was concerned they were right in what they were doing, the same as I was right in doing what I was doing even if our motives were entirely different. The man from Brazil was doing what he felt he needed to, even though I felt he was doing damage he’d later regret. It wasn’t my place to walk in his path, he had to do what he felt he had to do and learn what he had to learn for himself.
I’d thought I’d lost my dark glasses, the 3rd pair to get lost or ruined so far that summer, but Dominique sent an e-mail and said she’d packed them with her stuff when we left Belorado. I guess having them in Paris and me in Burgos wasn’t too much different than losing them somewhere along the trail.
When we went back to the plaza we sat down at the same table we’d been at earlier. Not too much time later others came and sat with us. Soon there was a crowd of people around our little table.
There had been a lady from France, I think, that had been a little more than just pushy, as far as her views, shoulds and desires were concerned, when a bunch of us had dinner in Santo Domingo a few nights before. That evening in Burgos, she’d organized a dinner at a restaurant around the corner from where we were sitting. The dinner would be a typical perogrino meal. She was almost dragging people off. A few of us managed to resist being pulled out of our chairs by wrapping our legs around the table and to later eat a meal off a menu, at a place we’d chosen, with people we wanted to eat and talk with.
That evening we had dinner with 5 other people, 3 from Germany and 2 from France. The 2 from France were father and son and told us that the Camino had been a bonding for them. James told me later that that was the inspiration for him to invite his father to meet us somewhere (Sarria) before Santiago. There were a lot of people on the Camino from Germany, 2 of the men that evening had been walking together, one would fly back the next day, the other planned to go to Santiago. Kirsten, who had sparkling blue eyes, walked with whoever had the same pace that day as she did. She had come on her own.
The next morning we met Kirsten in front of the hotel and the 3 of us walked to the bus station. James was in a time crunch, things back in London at his business weren’t going as planned and I believe the Sangria from the night before was aslo a consideration. Kirsten opted to take the bus because she had to be back in Germany sooner than the extra 4 to 6 days walking from Burgos to Leon would allow. I was there with James and figured I could come back and do that part after he went to London. As things turned out I did have time to do the first part but not enough time to do Burgos to Leon. Someday, maybe, I’ll do it all.
At the bus station we met other people who were bussing to Leon and then starting again. Kirsten knew where the bus station was, that saved a lot of wandering around, and after getting our tickets I went on a search for a new pair of sunglasses. I found a shop about a block away and the lady there was very helpful. She didn’t speak English but I’d been finding that having to communicate in Spanish was what I needed to make me learn what I needed to know.
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