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THE ROAD TO BELORADO
Tuesday was a warmer morning, and a good walk. The 23K route was nicely broken up by villages to stop in, so I decided to experiment with a routine: walk 90 minutes straight, and stop for a 15 minute break, 4 times. The routine worked nicely to put me in a village for each break, and I had just enough time to air my socks and rub my feet before it was time to go again.
Two things detracted a little from the otherwise beautiful sunny day walking from La Rioja into Castilla y Leon: one, part of the Way put us right alongside the N-120 highway, a route dominated by massive trucks that whooshed by noisily and frequently, and despite their friendly honks of support, they really got on everyone's nerves as much as the cyclists had. Secondly, it got hot. Like, AFRICA hot. TARZAN didn't have it that hot. I didn't know if I was going to be able to stay if it was gonna be that hot. The really silly thing is that because the sun is always on one side of us, many of us are getting sunburns on our left arms, me included. I noted with some satisfaction that I was walking much stronger and better than I had on my first hot day just over a week ago...that Camino groove thing is really settling in. But still, I was glad to cross the highway and end the seven hour walk in Belorado.
As we drifted in, it was hard to know what to make of the place. There were a lot of very old buildings, including a tall Spanish church, at the top of which were four storks' nests. In the whitish heat of the bright early afternoon, it kind of made me feel like we were on the set of an old Western set in Mexico (I guess those Spanish style churches in Tejano country were modeled on THESE places, right?) A historic plaque helpfully translated into English noted that "Belorado's truly enjoyed its heyday in the 1100s". Hm. After our long habit of passing through strangely empty, quiet medieval towns seemingly devoid of people all along the Camino, I suddenly became concerned about hanging out in a place that hadn't caught a break in about a thousand years.
However, I needn't have worried. A wander down the cobbled streets led me to a beautiful round centre of town -- a circle instead of a square -- ringed by another ancient church, a historic centre, some small shops and cares and other old buildings clearly adapted for modern use. Yes,it was currently empty -- siesta time was just beginning -- but at least there was a THERE there. Reassured, I continued on to find the albergue I hoped to stay at, the Cuatro Cantones.
Nearly every day on the road, I have pretty much just walked into the first albergue I see, and despite the volume of pilgrims all arriving more or less at once, I've always gotten a spot because I'm a single traveller easy to place. But for some reason, here I had made a point of looking up and choosing a place to gun for, though I'm not sure why. Something about the very brief guide writeup sounded good to me. Also, one town out before Belorado, a car pulled up to a bunch of us cooling our heels (literally) in a park, and a guy handed out water bottles with Cuatro Cantones labels. Albergues don't really need to advertise much -- pilgrims are tired fish in a barrel at the end of a day's walk --but I was still impressed by this place's marketing savvy.
A blue-eyed Brazilian expatriate named Fernando (who reminded me a bit of Rowan Atkinson) welcomed us hot and weary travelers with tireless cheer and good humour. When he took my pilgrim credentials he remarked on my name, mispronouncing it a little. "Mareeska, Mareeska... such a lovely name! It sounds like it should be the name of something, like a perfume!"
Considering my sweaty self, I replied dryly, "Not right now, it shouldn't be." Fernando laughed heartily, and I think took a shine to me after that, because he kindly gave me a lower bunk a bit away from the other clusters checking in, and right next to the shower and bathroom. Thank you, Fernando!
As Fernando checked each one of us in, he patiently went through the list of hotel amenities. And boy, what a list. Besides bed, and a 3 Euro continental breakfast option, there was also laundry service (yes! I avoid sink washing and air drying at all possible times!) , wifi, an Internet terminal, an option for a communal dinner in the second floor restaurant....and a POOL.
At this my sunburned neck snapped round. I had only been fantasizing about a pool for the last sweaty hour on the road! Immediately I ran up, tore my pack open, improvised a swimsuit out of tank top and nylon shorts, and dashed out to the little greenhouse in the back deck enclosing the pool. Melissa and some other familiar faces were already there sunning in the grassy yard, and we happily jumped into the gloriously cool water for some relief from the heat, and the novelty of feeling our weight come off our feet. I went SWIMMING ! How AWESOME!!!
Even better, I followed the cool dip with a hot shower, which further eased the muscles. For the first time, I felt like I was on a leisurely vacation instead of a challenging walkabout, and wallowed in the temporary decadence as I sent my laundry out to be cleaned.
I went for a walk around town to soak up the historic side, and eventually decided to join my fellow pilgrims on the patio of what seemed to be the only cafe open on the "square", or indeed anywhere in town. I was also looking for Brian, Thomas or Elke, or any other familiar faces, as you always seem to bump into people walking the same schedule as you in the same towns eventually, but no sign of them. Since there were no free tables I asked a tall guy with sunglasses and a mop of curls talking in a foreign language into a cellphone whether I could share his table, and he waved me into the chair opposite.
I had brought my ipad intending to draft this very entry, but didn't get very far. Within a few moments, the tall guy and I got to talking, and quickly fell into conversation. His name was Bart, a real estate guy from Amsterdam, in his mid to late thirties by my guess -- and really nice. It was so funny, because to look at him lounging with his drink in a polo shirt and shades, hollering into a cellphone in this tiny medieval town, you could totally assume "what a jerk". But he was in fact very friendly and thoughtful about the Camino, and we got into a great exchange about how unlike so often in "real life" , it is so easy to just strike up conversations and meet people on the Camino because everyone is so open to meeting, even someone fundamentally introverted like me (shut up, it's actually true). I haven't been in an environment this full of people falling over to meet each other since university, and it's lovely to recognize many faces as you walk through each town even though you may not know names. Bart's acquaintance, an older Dutch-born lady named Annamieke who now lived in Langley, BC, joined our discussion, and we had a great chat until the sun shifted into a chill wind and we noted it was getting close to dinner time at Cuatro Cantones.
THE USUAL SUSPECTS
Back at the albergue I found Elke had checked in. She walked with Brian and Thomas today, but it had been slow going because Brian's feet had been in bad shape, so they started late, took it easy, and stopped at every bodega along the way. There's something to be said for that approach.
Elke added that the guys were staying at another albergue and would not be coming to ours for dinner -- but as luck would have it, when we all lined up to get in it turned out they and decided to reserve at our place after all. Fernando and his partners opened the door in chef whites and invited in a happy horde of hungry pilgrims, and -- more luck! -- not only did it work out for me, Brian and Thomas to be seated together, our fourth was Melissa -- the perfect crime! We had yet another lovely meal together -- our fourth in a row now -- and when Elke joined us at the end the five of us stayed up quite a bit past curfew finishing off an extra bottle of wine. It was just the perfect capper to a leisurely, lovely day that was a welcome variation on the Camino routine.
I was so enjoying the day of indulgences that I finally decided to give in to something I've been fantasizing about on the long walks -- giving up my pack for a day to a transport service that would take it to my destination so I could walk a little more lightly for a day. I confess, this represented quite an evolution (or rationalization) in my thinking; I started out a Camino purist, determined to carry my load every day, the whole way, and often sneered at the "wannabes" who would pass me on the trails with their little day packs because they had trundled their heavy luggage on ahead. However, weariness was setting in, and I wanted to see how much better I might traveling I weren't laden down... Plus, y'know, there are no rules on the Camino. But I was running out of time; I plan to mail stuff home from Burgos on Thursday, and despite Brian's exerienced reliability of the service, I didn't want to risk using it into the chaos of big city Burgos. So if I was going to get the maximum value of not carrying the maximum weight of my pack, tomorrow was the day to send it on ahead. With Brian's help, I ordered the JacoTrans pickup for morning as a little extra gift to myself and my hardworking body for walking well done.
It proved to be a fateful decision. But you'll have to read the next entry to find out why. But of you've read enough for now, hope you'll enjoy looking at the related photos. Thanks for stopping by!
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