Meson San Anton

Yesterday it rained all afternoon, and the red dirt of Rioja--a famous wine-making region--clung relentlessly to my boots. I straggled into the village of Ventosa about 1:30, and climbed up through the narrow streets to the albergue. A man in the anteroom took my credencial (a sort of small folder all pilgrims carry), wrote my name down, stamped the credencial, took seven euros, then handed me off to a woman who took me upstairs and showed me the kitchen, the bathrooms, then my bed--top bunk in a small alcove, in a room with five other bunkbeds.

A Frenchman in his sixties or seventies had the bunk below. He spoke no English, but was solicitous of me in his own language. Over the course of the afternoon he told me of the laundry facilities, of the dinner later at the village´s only restaurant, and that he could nap with the light on, don´t worry--each time patting my arm reassuringly.

I didn´t talk to anyone else during the afternoon or the evening. Lino and I had parted in the morning in the city of Logrono. I wanted to look at the cathedral, and I knew he didn´t want to wait. His pace was killing me anyway. My blisters are worsening. I don´t, though, think it´s been so much the number of miles as the speed, and also, and maybe more importantly, the amount of distance on hard surfaces--stone and paved and gravel roads. Whatever the cause, I´m struggling a bit at the moment.

Last night a wonderful dinner at Meson San Anton offered great solace. The small, warm restaurant was staffed by two women, the cook and the server. I was first to arrive (dinner starting at seven) and was seated on the dark wood-floored patio, next to a glass wall overlooking a small garden. A cd of accordion music was playing.

The woman waiting tables soon returned with a small piece of paper on which she´d written the choices for the night (a "menu" was offered, consisting of first and second courses, wine and dessert). For my "primero" I chose ensalada mixta, though I was sorely tempted by the paella (there were also two pasta options); segunda, I chose "costillas," that is, pork ribs (other options were beef, fish, or stuffed peppers). The salad was excellent, so was the wine and bread. The pork ribs, a Flintstones-style slab, were served on a plate with slices of cooked red peppers in olive oil and a few salty french fries. I ate very slowly, happily.

For dessert I had chosen the tieramisu over arroz con leche or fruit.

Then I hobbled back downhill to the albergue and had my first unbroken night´s sleep. Now if there only wasn´t all this walking between such meals....

Actually the walking is a pleasure except for the feet issue. Today I left early, at six, and had a couple hours of quiet, cool morning to myself, before reaching the largish town of Najera. After that the Camino once again became crowded. I stopped early--about one--because of my feet, but also because the albergues pretty much fill by two. It´s something of an issue, this competition for space. Once my feet heal, I´d like to walk more, which may mean staying occasionally in a pension or a hotel (and in a town large enough for one of these).

Well, I still plan to go back and say something about the first days of the Camino, but I´ll probably wait until I am at my leisure in Espinosa next Sunday. In the meantime,I encourage all readers to write me, either as comments or emails to my account. I miss you all, and notes from you will be greatly enjoyed.