We wake absolutely miserable from lack of sleep and after tormenting the boys a bit, head down to breakfast, most of which is gone. Jenny and I manage to find two pieces of bread each with some marmalade & I have a quick coffee. We are so tired that it's hard to be happy with much of anything.
The pouring rain and freezing cold temperatures may have also contributed to our foul moods. We decide to walk as quickly as possible without stops to Beldarado. Jenny hangs back to talk with some of the kids, and I scoot along to make the distance as fast as I can. It's so nice to have the time alone. I have been struggling with never having privacy, not even in the toilet. The first two weeks I was okay with all the social interaction, even relishing in it when I felt unsure on my own, but now its changed.
When they say that you're never alone on the Camino, I know the meaning is that you are constantly guided and watched over by God, but I can also add that you can never get 5 minutes of peace either. It almost seems like the more you wish to be left alone with your thoughts, people seek you out. When my kids were young we had a great book titled, "Five Minutes Peace" about a mother elephant trying to get a few minutes away from her three little ones. She tries several things and in the end gets into a bubble bath. Within a few minutes, she has all three of them in the tub with her and toys as well.
I have declared that I just need 5 minutes peace several times and no matter where I manage to run off and hide, someone comes to find me and talk. Jenny finds this to be absolutely hilarious. Late last night, after lights out, while hiding in a dark stairwell, a Canadian man came out of his room wearing basically nothing and decided to cozy right up to me (when there was plenty of room for personal space) and introduce himself. After the whispered introductions, he launches into this full blown thing with the opening (and most profound) question of, "So, who do you think are the biggest $&&holes on the Camino, Americans or Canadians?" While I very much wanted to say that in this very moment I felt very strongly to answer Canadians, what I actually said was that his question was ridiculous and didn't even merit conversation. He looked at me a little stunned and then I quickly explained that I really needed some time alone. Hence hiding in a dark stairwell in the middle of the night. To his credit, he did leave me alone...after 15 minutes of showing me his broken phone and method of emailing his friends and family all of his photos, etc.
So, after a quick stop in Beldarado Jenny & I set off in the freezing rain again and decide to go as far as we can today since the forecast for the next few days is even worse. When we arrive in Tosantos, it's still very early in the day and the weather actually seems to be clearing a bit. We stop briefly to speak with the person who runs the single albergue and are told that 14 mattresses on the floor are available. After our complete lack of sleep the night before, we decide to press on to Villabistia, where we know that our English Ladies, Charlotte & Jane, have a booking. When we arrive, there is a sign on the door stating that they are very sorry but closed on Wednesdays. We stand there absolutely stunned. We are exhausted now & soaked through with the once again pouring rain, and it might be our imagination but it feels as if the temperature has dropped 20 degrees in the past hour. Our options are to go back 3k to Tosantos and pray that there are beds left, or to press on another 3k to Epinosa. We decide that forward progress is better and set off ahead. Within 5 minutes giant snow flakes begin to fall and the farm road we are on turns to slog beneath our feet. There is no talking between us, we are both a bit scared and really upset. It's also not comforting that we haven't seen any other pilgrims for miles. After a while Jenny and I start talking again, after I share with her that I never expected that I'd perish during a freak May snow storm in Spain. We decided that it would be a pretty good headline though.
Eventually, and when we literally could go no further, we come upon an albergue. It's literally El Ramon, from the movie The Way (for those of you who have seen it). It's creepy and filthy and run by a 40ish guy that could literally be the son of El Ramon. There's no sign of a woman anywhere. We have learned at this point to be leery of the places with no women around to ensure cleanliness, order, & proper hospitality.
The place offers a horrible bed & a filthy shower for 5 euro. We take it because we know we can walk no further. There are no laundry facilities and hand washing is not an option because things will never dry by morning. Everything we own is dirty & most is wet. This will be the first day that I have to shower & then put on filthy smelly clothes. I keep reminding myself that it could be much worse.
We clean up & head to the one bar in town to get warm (the albergue has no heat & no hot water) & find food. The couple who own the bar make us chorizo & queso tortilla (frittata) with coffee, juice & hot coa coa. We sit there for two hours until dinner time, when our special pilgrims meal is served. We are joined by Colleen from Tennessee, who is a very chatty & interesting person. She has had every job known to man, quite literally. Jenny and I decide right away that we will need more time for discussion with her.
No comments:
Post a Comment