I gazed up at the spanish graffiti carved and scribbled into the bunk above my head. The morning light came in letting me know that I had slept late but I was in no hurry today. The few messages left in english disappointed me, they seemed to be written by complete idiots, but what should one expect from people who write on beds, i pondered.
The afternoon before I had been strolling along when I passed out a small family that whom only started walking 100km from Santiago but were now starting to look a little worse for wear, hehe. I stumpled upon Javier and Manollo and ate lunch, during which they started talking about politics in the restaurant. I was used to them chatting away in spanish. So usually I'd just smoke and watch their mannerisms for hints to figure out what the subject was. but sometimes I'd just watch, how people feel about what they're saying, im sure, is as interesting if not more than what they're actually saying. But it wasnt long until this discussion erupted into civilised shouting at each other. I looked around to notice the restaurant was staring at us. My consternation was fueled by the fact I had no idea how vulgar or otherwise these booming spaniards were being. I tried to read for a little while but that was useless so I legged it leaving them roaring at each other.
The afternoon before I had been strolling along when I passed out a small family that whom only started walking 100km from Santiago but were now starting to look a little worse for wear, hehe. I stumpled upon Javier and Manollo and ate lunch, during which they started talking about politics in the restaurant. I was used to them chatting away in spanish. So usually I'd just smoke and watch their mannerisms for hints to figure out what the subject was. but sometimes I'd just watch, how people feel about what they're saying, im sure, is as interesting if not more than what they're actually saying. But it wasnt long until this discussion erupted into civilised shouting at each other. I looked around to notice the restaurant was staring at us. My consternation was fueled by the fact I had no idea how vulgar or otherwise these booming spaniards were being. I tried to read for a little while but that was useless so I legged it leaving them roaring at each other.
I was back out in the open and I walked to the place quite easily still feeling restless and full of energy. I'd been walking for so many days, the thought of two more restless nights before I reach Santiago didnt appeal to me at all. But I was relucant to leave my friends behind. Never the less, I was restless and felt like I could easily walk another 30km. I was weighing up my options over a beer. It would be getting dark soon, maybe an hour and a half left. I have at least 6kms to walk to the first village but there isn't an abergue there so it would be another 3km after that, which would be perfect timing, I thought. I could make it just before dark. I sniffed the air like my cat used to do and decided no rain was on the way, so it was decided, I'd make a dash for it and be in santiago tomorrow. I was about 40kms from there at this point, I'd already walked 25km in the afternoon. I knew that I could quite easily walk anything around the 30kms mark in one day.
It was the right decision I was delighted to back on the road, dark or not who cares. Adventure ho! After about 5kms I couldnt believe my eyes when I saw a another walker ahead, out this late?, wearing a little funny red hat?... Sabrina!! We laughed and chatted and walked far into the darkness, got lost, went to the wrong house, got directions and sat down 16kms later at 10pm to have wonderful meal. When we finally found the abergue it was after 11 and there was no answer on the door despite our frequent banging. I looked in the window and could see bunks with clothes hung in between them, lots of clothes. Sabrina shone the light toward the back of the room and there a man, a naked man, lying face down in a bunk bed toward the back of the room. He was not elderly but getting there. He looked like he was dead and Having a dead old man answer the door to us didnt wash well with me. The whole scene was eerie and I was all for walking another 6kms to the next place but Sabrina wouldn't have it and continued to rapp on the window. Finally the dead guy did hear our rapping and came out all smiles and apologigies for locking the door. But I was on to him and would keep an ear out for any undead shennanigans during the night. So I used up all the hot water while Sabrina did her yoga and tried to find a bed in the snoring dark dormroom.
And so I awoke to read the gibberings of international numbnuts and was happy in the lazy morning sun. Today I would be in Santiago, only about 22km to go. I should be there just after lunch. All these numbnuts were probably quite happy with that thought as well. I left sabrina still getting ready, she was dissappointed that wasnt going to walk with her but I felt it best to finish this walk to Santiago the way I started... alone. To think it over, reflect and observe myself and how I felt. Despite it being a beautiful day, the walking was a was a bit deary, thru industrial estates and beside big city main roads. I remember feeling like a cheetah in the lion enclosure when I went into a cafe for a coffee and a read, finding myself surrounded by city slickers, truck drivers, waitesses all eyeing me up. The sun was lovely and before I knew it i was entering the old quarter of Santiago. Having passed the mopeds and boy racers and elderly shufflers. And I was in touristland all over again. I went to the Cathederal and gave St james a hug, had a little sit down, got my certificate, which is quite a similiar feeling to renewing your motortax in nutgrove shopping centre, should you want to experience it first hand. Finally I found myself a room to sleep.
That evening I woke to eat. I spent the evening alone, roaming the small streets, mostly watching people. Eventually it was that I walked to a tavern that I'd heard music coming from. gawking at the barman as he charged me 2€ for a glass of sweet red wine, my attention was grabbed by a fop laughing at me. Slinking embarressed away I descended the stairs. I was smoothed in the basement of that tavern with locals practicing their gallician instruments and a big dog dosing on the chair beside them. I sipped the wine let the evening disappear in a puff of smoke.
After a shower the next morning I went to watch my teeth in a little shared bathroom beside my room. As I turned the knob to get back in to the room, I realised i'd left the room without my keys and my boots. Oh dear. Despite the cleaner doing her very best to understand me and trying every key in the hotel, I was locked out. so I put my toothbush in my pocket and walked out into the cold stone paved streets to go to mass. Which I did. The Priest reminded of me Thomas. He was maybe a better performer but thomas had him on material and content. It was nice to see the church filing up with familiar faces around me. After, we all reunited on the steps and chatted, congratulated and laughed. That night we had it all. Drink, laughs, rude waiters, rude pilgrims, good food, some wine, arguments, sulks, jockey backs, more wine, smiles, dances and teachers, strangers and friends, photos and strippers and we blew the top off santiago.
I tenderly scooted out of santiago sometime after four and cursed the city over my shoulder. Where I want to be now; lost in the endless fields of rural spain. Walking alone and seeing no other walkers but this didnt surprise me, It was already late but I knew there'd be friends ahead because of our conspiracys the night before. I'd seen gianfranco during the day too, he grabbed me and gave a big laugh. Its good to have friends. "do you remember the stripers?" hmmm not really actually. But now, alone I made my way, not very well as I got lost, took a detour and then added another hour to my walk.
The details arent very important now, but the long and short of it is, I was harressed by rough looking youngsters with motorcycles. After, and fearing their return, I had put my camera in my bag and was wondering of the effectiveness of my stick in the face of four or five of them. And the rational person I am, I quickly came to the conclusion that It wouldn't be any good at all. So I was literally bathing in happiness when at the next bar I found a bedraggled crew of the three musketeers, sipping tea. I joined them and we watched a tiny kitten play on the floor around our bags. Now I had back up. Bring it on, me and stick and the three musketeers could take on the world.
We walked well into the night and I was happy. Detrich sang 'the horse with no name' as Guillem told me about his photography.
After a shower the next morning I went to watch my teeth in a little shared bathroom beside my room. As I turned the knob to get back in to the room, I realised i'd left the room without my keys and my boots. Oh dear. Despite the cleaner doing her very best to understand me and trying every key in the hotel, I was locked out. so I put my toothbush in my pocket and walked out into the cold stone paved streets to go to mass. Which I did. The Priest reminded of me Thomas. He was maybe a better performer but thomas had him on material and content. It was nice to see the church filing up with familiar faces around me. After, we all reunited on the steps and chatted, congratulated and laughed. That night we had it all. Drink, laughs, rude waiters, rude pilgrims, good food, some wine, arguments, sulks, jockey backs, more wine, smiles, dances and teachers, strangers and friends, photos and strippers and we blew the top off santiago.
I tenderly scooted out of santiago sometime after four and cursed the city over my shoulder. Where I want to be now; lost in the endless fields of rural spain. Walking alone and seeing no other walkers but this didnt surprise me, It was already late but I knew there'd be friends ahead because of our conspiracys the night before. I'd seen gianfranco during the day too, he grabbed me and gave a big laugh. Its good to have friends. "do you remember the stripers?" hmmm not really actually. But now, alone I made my way, not very well as I got lost, took a detour and then added another hour to my walk.
The details arent very important now, but the long and short of it is, I was harressed by rough looking youngsters with motorcycles. After, and fearing their return, I had put my camera in my bag and was wondering of the effectiveness of my stick in the face of four or five of them. And the rational person I am, I quickly came to the conclusion that It wouldn't be any good at all. So I was literally bathing in happiness when at the next bar I found a bedraggled crew of the three musketeers, sipping tea. I joined them and we watched a tiny kitten play on the floor around our bags. Now I had back up. Bring it on, me and stick and the three musketeers could take on the world.
We walked well into the night and I was happy. Detrich sang 'the horse with no name' as Guillem told me about his photography.
