Walking once again

A new twist on the snoring game. Night before last the man next to me looked like trouble--a graybeard who polished off a half dozen or ten beers in the afternoon on the patio at the albergue. And indeed, he did distinguish himself. Though he was courteous enough to remain a quiet sleeper until I put down my book and turned off my headlamp. Soon after, he began to mull and murmur, speculating on something... then he moved to humming, then produced several annoyed harumphs...a pause and then mild groaning, indicating not real suffering but just a little fatigue. Silence, then several sinus clearing sniffs. Next lipsmacking, followed by a clearly articulated question, "can I have a danish?" For a long count of ten silence followed his apparently unfulfilled request...then suddenly he emitted a loud "kkkkk-och!" that made me jump. It seemed to startle him too. He fell to muttering and rolled over. At that moment the man on the other side of him clucked four times, paused, then clucked four more. There is no other word for it; he clucked. I lay awake, wondering what might come next.

Friday morning Manolo dropped me off on the far side of Carrion and I walked across a flat, mostly featureless landscape, sixteen miles to the small town of Terredillos de Templarios. A comfortable albergue, in spite of my bed neighbor. The next day I walked another sixteen miles to another small village, Calzada de los Hermanillos, and today another fifteen miles to Mansilla de las Mulas, which is bigger and partially surrounded with a crumbling stone wall that is very old I don´t know how old. I have reined in my mileage for the time being, walking only in the mornings.

The last two days have been mostly along the Via Trajana, an ancient Roman road, and a Camino alternative. This has meant fewer people and fewer villages. There wasn´t a one, village that is, on today´s walk, the longest such stretch of the trip so far. Just fields and fields, an occasional small tree.... I had some wind and rain early on, a muddy path much of the way.

The last two nights, and tonight too I imagine, I´ve been seeing the same people at the albergues. Two nights ago in Terradillos I had the pilgrim menu at the albergue (some offer meals, some have kitchens where people can make their own). I shared a table with six other people, and by good fortune they all spoke English. Ben a Australian, with the ruddy complexion one expects of his nationality, and a singer/songwriter living in New York and making an album; Uly, a talkative German living in London; another German, Mathias, a Berlin cabdriver with the Knowledge; one more German, a young woman, Michelle, who spoke English with an American accent, thanks to a year as an exchange student in North Carolina; and finally two Japanese, Kiro, a sinewy man in his sixties, with impressive stars of wrinkles at the outer corners of his eyes, and his middle-aged daughter whose name I can´t remember. When the food came I pulled out my camera to take a picture, as usual, and explained that one of my daughters was interested in food. In an attmept to ingratiate myself with Kiro, I told him that Alix´s favortie food was sushi. This might have been too obvious, but actually he responded with enthusiasm, and spent the next five minutes explaining to me in broken English some of the secrets of sushi making.

The dinner, you ask? First, garbanzo beans with callos (tripe), then a chuleta or pork chop with a freid egg and salad; bread and wine, of course, and a basket of fruit for dessert.

The conversation ranged from the size of backpacks and what it said about a peregrino, to religion (Uly launched into a long disquistion on the 9th century inspirations for the Camino--directed at Kiro who understood little), to the small number of Americans on the Camino, and so on. It was a great pleasure to spend a whole two hours speaking English. One more subject that came up--the fact that the Japanese couldn´t use email because their English, and the English of their family back in Japan, wasn´t good enough that they could use the Roman alphabet keyboards. No Japanese keyboards available.

Last night most of the people at the table showed up eventually in Calzada de los Hermanillos, which had the smallest albergue I´ve stayed at yet--just sixteen beds. A bit worn but comfy and relaxed. One just picks a bed, choosing from one of the four small alcoves. The sheets smelled a bit of stale sweat, but I covered mine with the blanket provided. I went through my usual routine--shower, shave, wash clothes, read, nap.... Ben showed up after a couple hours, nackered, and took the bunk above mine. Later Uly and I sat at the big table in the public room and he asked to hear more about this ultralight thing we had talked about the night before....

Alright, here at the albergue in Mansillas others are waiting to use the computer.... Tomorrow a short day to Leon, one of the three biggest cities on the Camino....