I couldn't wait to get out of this place; I didn't sleep well here. Once again, none of the walls went up to the ceiling, so though bunks were in four rooms on the second floor, all the noises or lights from anywhere in the building traveled. Stella and I would swear that one man in our room (the one who helped to check us in) was sleeping on potato chips, bags and all, because every single time he moved in his sleeping bag, he crackled and crinkled. Some people got up around three or so in the morning and went downstairs and turned on the light which came right up the stairwell and shone into our rooms because of not having a ceiling. The underside of the roof of the building was logs, and before going to bed, Stella had made a comment about the bugs and the mice that must live in the roof. I must have been thinking about that during the night, because more than once when I was awake, I am sure that I felt something moving on my sleeping bag - and I WASN'T moving! My bar of lavendar soap is only supposed to ward off bedbugs. Call it imagination if you will...
Anyway, I was up and moving early, anxious to be out of El Burgos. On the way out of the town, we saw the little black donkey tied up and munching his breakfast. We also saw a stork catch a fish to take back to his/her fledglings for breakfast. Then began the endless stretch of trees that we would follow for the next 5 or 6 hours. Someday, they will provide nice shade for pilgrims along the path, so I am glad that they have planted them. But this is the least attractive portion of the meseta and we are nearing the end of it.
The path simply follows between the small trees and the two lane N-120 roadway for about 19 km.
I have in mind that there are no pitstops between El Burgo and our destination, so I somewhat dehydrate myself. I've made it almost three weeks without having to stop by the roadside (an absolute last resort in my mind), but just knowing that this is such a long stretch is enough to make me think about it! And there is so little opportunity when the land is so open and there are just these young trees. After 10 or 11 km, I feel like I can finally wait no longer and there is a picnic spot that has some shrubbery. The whole thing is in need of mowing, but there is a path where other pilgrims have made their way back to the tables - or maybe bushes! I walk gingerly through the high grass, mindful of snakes. Just as I am about to take off my pack, I realize the two Italian guys behind me on the path have decided that this is the perfect place for their mid-morning snack. So much for my use of this place - I can't possibly be 10' away from them on the other side of the bush while they are making their salami and cheese sandwiches! It's that thing about being American again. So, I simply stretch a little, enjoy a few moments without my pack and then get back on the Camino."Ok, God, now what do I do?" I ask as I look at the continuing line of scrawny trees and not much else. Well, blessed be the God who provides! A few minutes further on and what should come into view over a hilltop but a few rooftops!! "Oh please let there be a bar/cafe!!" (That's where there are always 'aseos' or 'servicios' - bathrooms.) Sure enough, just a little way into town, there is a very nice little bar where the three German pilgrims with whom I'm quite familiar have already stopped. Yea! Another day without making a roadside pitstop! It's amazing how basic your thinking and your needs get on the Camino!
It is just a few kilometers further to Mansilla, our destination for the day. It has been a beautiful day for walking. Cool, with some sun, no walking under plastic. But on the way to Mansilla, a car pulls up to me as I am walking. I am suddenly very cautious and glance around for other pilgrims as the male passenger jumps out, but then I quickly realize he just wants to hand me something. It's an ad for an alburgue 6 km past Mansilla. It looks interesting.
Just before getting to Mansilla de la Mulas, there is a little park or reststop for pilgrims that has signs explaining the history, economy and geography of the city. I always stop to try to read these and I'm getting better at understanding what they say - just wish I'd remember more of what I figure out! I get into Mansilla and realize that none of the alburgues listed on the sign sound like what Stella and I had talked about. We're carrying our packs today, so I sit down on a bench in a plaza on the way into the old part of the city where she has to pass through and wait for her. In the plaza is an interesting pilgrim statue. On one side are a happy young man and woman, full of life and energy. 
On the reverse, is a pilgrim who is suffering. Only later, as I'm looking at the photographs do I realize that I have shot these as the "light" side and the "dark" side of the Camino journey. It is hard to know whether the pilgrim on the dark side is in physical pain or exhaustion, or emotional and mental anguish from the burdens he is carrying and dealing with. 
Interesting statue.
About 15 minutes later, Stella comes through. We decide it has been an easy morning's walk of about 19 km and we could each do another 6 (this will be 15 miles for each of yesterday and today), so we will go on to the place that we each got the advertisement about.
The old city of Mansilla is interesting and pretty.
It looks like it has a lot of neat little restaurants and cafes to explore if we were to take the time. We pause for a break in one of them. Stella orders coffee con leche and gets a little something extra added to it - oruju, a liquor of some sort. The coffee flavor is too strong for me to recognize the flavor. After using a very pink bathroom (never turn down facilities when they're available!), we ask the waitress on the way out and she gives us each a swig of it - we still can't place the flavor, but it's got some firepower to it! I look it up later in my Spanish-English Dictionary and it says something like "refuse of grapes, olives, etc." so it wasn't much help. It does make the trip over the little bridge and on to Puente Villarente, where the alburgue San Pelayo is, a little nicer. The walk isn't bad until we get to the village just before Puente Villarente, where it isn't marked very well and we end up walking next to the road. It isn't very comfortable, but we make it okay.San Pelayo is like a little resort
compared to most of the alburgues we have been to, especially El Burgo Ranero! We decide to splurge and get a private room. It is painted a deep shade of plum and has twin beds, 
REAL beds, not bunk beds, with an upper and lower sheet (you take these for granted!), two real pillows with pillow cases, REAL towels in the bathroom that is only ours. A rug on the floor. This is the lap of luxury. Our little window, with a window box of geraniums, looks out onto the larger of two courtyards. We wash our clothes in a washing machine (which we have done a few times along the way) and hang them out to dry in the courtyard, where some are lounging in the sun. 
We can take out time getting showers, as there is no one to compete with. We can take a nap. I spend time downloading pictures from my camera to this computer and labeling them. It is lovely.Dinner at San Pelayo is paella, not with saffron, as it is brown, and no seafood, just pork, I think. Then chicken, (finally, white meat!) with the obigatory fries on the side. They have perhaps the worst flan yet, though, as it is simply storebought, something like a yogurt container. Otherwise it is fine. A good local red wine. Our tablemates are an older Frenchman who started from his home in Toulouse and three Spanish cyclists who are probaby mid to late thirties. I am amazed at how many pilgrims are in their 60s- 80s. Also, there are a growing number of cyclists, which is really much harder than walking.
It is a very pleasant evening of luxury on the Camino and we both sleep well. For me, it is perhaps the first real sleep since that night on the mountain at Hunnto, three weeks ago. I had forgotten what it felt like to wake up refreshed, but I don't mind being reminded!
No comments:
Post a Comment