I liked Leon, a lot

Yesterday at the convent in Leon, Santa Maria de Carbajalas, the peregrinos were assigned to one of three separate rooms (each with beds for fifty or so): men, women, couples. The men´s room was packed, while in the other two there were many empty beds. This is the only albergue I´ve come across so far that has made such distinctions; in most there´s not even a separation of bathrooms and showers.

There are certainly fewer women on the Camino, but not few. Most, though, are older, and I´ve noticed that the rare younger ones come in for particular attention from the older men, what a surprise. For the last few days I´ve been staying at the same albergue as two young American women (19 and 22--in Leon we had to tell the nuns our ages, and I was in line behind them), and I´ve noticed that they have fallen into the company of two Spanish men in their fifties. The men are quite solicitous, in an avuncular way, helping with the language, with blisters, with food. But they also seem a bit covetous....

A few days ago in Calzada de Hermanillos at lunch I sat a table with a Frenchman and a young Asian woman, Kim. I thought they were together, but the next day I saw her arrive at the albergue with two other older men. The one at lunch was making an unsuccessful bid to take care of her, as I sat across from them trying to read. He kept weedling her, trying to get her to eat more. At first I just thought she was shy, but soon I changed my mind and decided she was trying to ignore him, hoping he would stop. "Keem," he said repeatedly, "but I bought enough for two. You must have a ham sandwich. It´s too much. Keem, please, Keem. A little sandwich, Keem." Kim ate her apple and shook her head.

Despite these little dramas and short-term relationships, I´d say there is no sex on the Camino. Well, actually, what do I know. But at least in the dorm rooms, large and small, the night noises have been limited to varieties of snoring.

Last night in Leon I had dinner with Andy and Laura again, the couple from Wiltshire. We walked around town for some time, disappointed to find the most likely restaurants all closed. But in Leon, apparently, the Spanish rather than the peregrino meal schedule is followed, which means that the big meal comes midday. So, many of the restaurants were done by three or so. We settled on a dining room in the back of a bar, the 2 de Mayo, a sort of get-it-done type of restaurant. The meal was average--salad and chuletas yet again for me--but the company was quite good. We talked about New Orleans, the disappointing state of foreign language education in both the States and Britain, travel writing about Spain, and European politics and the theory that some have, according to Andy, that the Germans, having failed to take Europe by force, are conniving to dominate economically. At this Laura tried to shush him, as two German couples occupied the table behind ours. However, no feelings seemed to be hurt.

Andy and Laura were done with the Camino, for the time being, and after one more day in Leon were heading for home. Laura wanted to spend that extra day walking, but Andy thought this would be pointless. They argued gently for a moment, then reconciled.

At 9:35 Laura said we should go--the doors of the monasterio close for the night at 9:45 and we did not want to get locked out. We made it in and said good-bye in the forecourt. I parted with them reluctantly.

This morning I walked through Leon in the dark, along empty streets that had been filled with people the night before. I passed the Cathedral, then San Ysidro, another massive church, then a huge Renaissance monastery dedicated to St. Mark. Cleaning crews with handcarts swept the cobbled streets as the light started to come on. I crossed the Rio Bernesega and walked along on wider streets past dozens of closed shops. It took awhile, but I finally got through the city, the suburbs, an industrial outer ring, and then back out into the countryside. From there, the familiar fields and small villages. The land, though, is becoming rolling now, a hint of the mountains to come in the days ahead.

I reached Mazarife about eleven, where I´m not at one of three albergues. A short day, and I fretted for a half hour about going on. But the afternoons are hot, and more, I want to spend tomorrow night in Astorga, thirty kilometers from here. It´s another largish city with lots of plazas and churches and restaurants and narrow streets cluttered with shops. By comparison, Mazarife seems dull. But I have chosen a comfy corner, lower bunk in the book airy room, and I have my new books to occupy my afternoon. I´ve been pretty good about going slower the last five days, but sometimes it´s still a challenge.