Our day starts later than planned because we were so tired. Several pilgrims stayed up until the wee hours partying in the little courtyard just outside of our room. I don't really want to get into finger pointing, but it was definitely Mark & Enagi along with some of their newly acquired Camino friends. They might have gotten the stink face from a few of us at breakfast, not that they noticed because they are the happiest Camino party people I've come across yet, apparently even with wicked hangovers. It's hard to be angry with a big beaming smile and hug that greets you with, "Good morning sunshine!" in a thick and somewhat mocking Spanish accent.
Maria is nowhere to be found. She has apparently gotten up very early and masterfully packed her pack in complete silence, and started her journey. She attended dinner with us last night but sat at the very last spot on the table, the furthest point from me, so I didn't get to talk with her much. We have chatted on the path in passing and then just brief chats when stopped at a common rest spot, but I would love some relaxed time to really talk with her.
Anke and I decide to stay and have breakfast since we are already running late. We have also looked at the maps for today and have chosen to walk through the mountains rather than on the road which will be considerably more difficult but, as the guide book promises, well worth the effort. I love that Anke is wanting to go this route too, she didn't even consider the road route for one second.
Our first reward, as it turns out, is breakfast. We are treated to a buffet style breakfast which includes absolutely ridiculous things like poached eggs on toast, and assorted breakfast meats to include chorizo and English bacon. We are all just beside ourselves with joy. As if it could get any better, our host provides us with giant jars of homemade preserves and fruit butters to have on our toast. This is so different from the typical Spanish breakfast of day old toasted bread with tiny little single serving packets holding approximately one teaspoonful of butter, and marmalade. It doesn't matter if you plan to eat 12 pieces of toast, you are still expected to make due with one tiny butter packet and one tiny marmalade packet, and asking for more brings about looks of complete shock and exasperation.
Our second reward, is that we had the honor of meeting Yurgen and his dog Roxy, who are walking the Camino together. They are quite the pair and remind me of my very dear friend Barry and his dog Roxy, in Cornwall. Anke and I fall head over heals with both of them and are happy to begin our day walking with them.
We head off on our planned 30k mountainous day with full tummies and big smiles. The sun is shining and the views are beautiful, but the trek is quite difficult. So far, the guide book is spot on. The difficulty hits us right off the bat rather than allowing us to ease into it. While we struggle to climb straight up in the air, Anke and I chat about her life in Berlin. It suddenly dawns on me that she must have experienced the reunification of Germany, so I ask her what it was like before and after the wall came down. This was apparently the perfect question because it sparked a conversation that lasted many miles and many mountains.
I'm not sure quite what I expected of her response, I guess to hear her say that it was awful living in East Germany before, but that's not what she said at all.
Anke was 24 at the time that the wall came down. She was married and pregnant with her son. Their lives were good, she and her husband both had good jobs, a nice flat, and a little money saved. She said that most everything they needed was in ready supply and good quality, like food for instance, all being grown or produced within the country. Healthcare was also very good and the educational system was excellent. The goods that were hard to come by were anything imported. She gave the examples of CD's, or name brand blue jeans, really anything that came from outside of East Germany. They were not only hard to obtain, but very expensive. But, she reminded me that they were just things that someone wanted versus the things they needed to live a happy healthy life. She truly felt like everything her family needed was available and they were quite happy living that way. There were just some minor inconveniences when it came to obtaining imported goods.
One thing that blew me away was how difficult it was to purchase a car. She said the typical waiting period was 10-15 years to buy a car, and then once your name came up on the waiting list, the purchasing process was a whole mess in itself. This was seen as a bit of a hassle but because everyone had a job, a house, healthy fresh food, good healthcare and there were such good schools, it really wasn't considered a horrible thing to wait for imported items.
When the wall came down everyone in East Germany lost their jobs, houses, and the money they had saved lost half its value, literally overnight. Anke said it was good that she & her husband were so young and had only saved a little, but for older people, half of their savings just vanished, and they had no time to replace it.
She said that there was such widespread stress because everyone was in the same situation. There were no people to offer support, no government agencies for instance or even family members because every single person had the same problem. Some people had family, or friends who lived in West Germany for support, but not many. She said there was no sense of community for a long time but rather an "every man for himself" attitude. She felt like that was the hardest part to endure.
Now, that everyone is completely through the adjustment, she says that overall most things are much better. The education system, however, being the only exception. Still, she says that she had a very good life before, and I am just so surprised to hear that. I'm not sure why I had such a negative view of how life must have been for the people living there and I find myself wanting to dig up old US news programs to see just what the media was telling me.
As I walk along taking in the beautiful rolling hills of the Spanish countryside for hours listening to her story and trying to imagine living through such events, I realize what a great Camino moment this is. This amazing woman and I connected by chance on the Camino, something that probably would never have happened otherwise, and in just two days we are the closest of friends.
As I sit here in the sunshine writing in my journal, I know that we will remain in close contact for the rest of our lives. Just as I will with Jenny, Annette, Cheri, and several others from this journey. More Camino magic, truly the best kind.
Anke and I really hit it off, just as Jenny and I did, but the thing is, there are so many other Germans they could have chosen to walk with. And communication would have been much easier for sure! The Germans on the Camino outnumber the other nationalities all put together, and still at about 3 to 1 this year it seems. They are great walkers, that's for certain. I am feeling so fortunate that I've gotten to know these lovely ladies, and my Camino Niños as well. I miss them all so much. They have checked in every couple of days so that I know they are all doing well. I am really hoping to see them again in Santiago.
I was going somewhere with that last bit and got sidetracked. So, my name in German is Betina. Pronounced Be-Tina, with a short e sound. This should really be my Camino name because every time I'm introduced to someone from Germany as Bethany, they automatically change my name to Betina, or even worse, the shortened version which apparently is Betty. I fought this for the first few weeks on the Camino by continuing to correct people, but now to save time and general frustration, I just introduce myself as Betina if I know they are from Elbanyo. ;)
I flat out refuse to be Betty though!
I am still learning rudimentary lessons on the Camino. The first is never to say anything like, "I believe I'm good now" or, "That phase seems to be behind me now" when someone else is talking about blisters and you still have 7 days to go. It's much like saying, "I'm so glad it's not going to rain today" at 10am in Seattle. The second thing I learned was just after I had stopped to place large Compeed bandages on my two brand new heel blisters. Compeed doesn't stick properly if you have applied ibuprofen cream to your feet since your most recent shower. Of course, I haven't ruled out that I'm not just having sympathy blisters with poor Anke who has acquired a couple of whoppers today. It's her second day, so that's almost expected, but new blisters on day 31? It makes absolutely no sense at all.
In the end, our planned 32k day gets reduced to 24k, and we both stop in absolute agony. For me, this means two things. I must now walk 34k tomorrow to keep with my arrival plan of Santiago by June 8th, and I get to stay a night in Ruitelan. This is another of the albergues that Sean from Seattle recommended.
It turns out to be a very nice consolation for the shortened day and new blisters. Anke and I shower and then sit outside in the sun while she soaks her feet in salt water and I write in my journal. Today she is settled, there is no desire to go out and explore.
We are joined by several familiar faces as the afternoon carries on. Many are like us, filled with frustration at the difficulty they experienced today, and the new blisters they have on their feet, but thrilled with the beautiful terrain we are now walking through.
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