"Hello, Hello
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello"
-The Beatles
My constant search for the next fix of coffee finally bit me in the ass a couple of days ago. Just outside of Sahagún, the Camino splits. You can take the road route, which is busy but well serviced by towns, albergues and cafes. The other route, which takes you through away from the road has exactly one town over the next 37km. If you want to take the second route, you have to take the path into Calzada de los Cotos, which I did, looking for coffee. What my guidebook failed to mention was that there was no way back to the road route except the way you came (I don't like having to backtrack). Anyways, to make a long story short, I ended up in a little town called Calzadilla de los Hermanillos, rather than El Burgo Ranero, which is the one I wanted to go to. El Burgo Ranero would have set me up for a nice easy 20km day into Mansilla las Mulas through several towns along the road the next day. Hermanillos set me up for a 27km treadmill of a route through farmland, with no shade, no fuentes, no towns, and not so much as a large rock to sit on. Not a pleasant day, but I was happy to arrive in Mansilla las Mulas late in the day.
In Mansilla, I ran into all the people I had been hanging out with in Sahagún, which made for a great night at the bar next to the albergue. First though, there was the business of watching the Real Madrid v Atletico de Madrid game (1-1 draw). Chalk it up to good fortune that we managed to find one of the very few bars in Spain that had a pool table. It was a great time, but given that everyone else had a much shorter day than I did, I had to call it quits early (even by my standards).
The walk into Leon was pretty much the same as every other day on the Meseta; flat, boring, swarming with flies, and shadowing a major highway. At times, in fact, on the shoulder of a major highway. Picture walking on the shoulder of the 401 outside of Toronto, where there are only two lanes in each direction. That's what it was like. Worse yet, we had to cross the damn thing at one point. Not what I would call a safe day of walking.
León is a beautiful city; slightly smaller than Burgos, but so jam packed with historical monuments that it would take a couple of days to see them all. Days which I don't have unfortunately. Going to stick around for one extra day to see what I can and get some shopping done. Also in the meantime, Francesca and Matias are going back home to Hamburg tomorrow, so a few of us are having a goodbye lunch for them. Francesca was the author of one of the funniest moments on the camino thus far. A few nights ago, we were sitting around over a couple of beers with Philip (the english guy) talking about the various trials and tribulations of having to walk every day. I´m writing out the conversation below (as I remember it - which means it´s probably embellished) and my thoughts for posterity.
Francesca (with German accent): Have you heard about those people that are travelling with...um...monkeys?
my thoughts: Monkeys? That's bloody odd. I suppose they're those little organ-grinder type monkeys. Sheesh; takes all kinds
Philip (with a strange expression on his face): Monkeys? Really?
Francesca: Yes, yes...they have children and...
Juan: The monkeys?
Francesca: What?
Juan: The monkeys have children?
Francesca: No, no...the people have children
Philip (turning to me): Why would it matter if the Monkeys had children?
Juan: It doesn't...just trying to visualize this properly. (turns to Francesca) Anyways, the monkeys have children..
Francesca: No, the people have children...the monkeys carry the luggage and one of the children while the parents are walking
my thoughts: OK...these are some big damn monkeys. Or many, many small ones. Either way, what a horrible thing to do to monkeys. When I think about all the stuff that Michael and Sarah have to lug around, I...wait a minute.
Juan: Hold on - do you mean donkeys?
Francesca (laughing): oh, yes - donkeys
Much hilarity ensued. Such are the perils of speaking a foreign language. I'm not immune from it either. In Spanish, the word for "lighter" is "Encendedor", and one word for "bomb" is "Incediario". Fairly easy to confuse the two. Bottom line, don't go to a cigarette store and ask to buy a bomb. Chances are they won't have one (chances are only very slightly better in the Basque country), and they give you the strangest look.
That's it for now. Tackling the first bit of the last third of the Camino starting tomorrow. Two days to Astorga, then the mountains. Next update will probably be in a couple of days.
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