Day 32: Barbadelo

So I walked through Sarria to Barbadelo and Bev and I got some of the last beds in the place. Ironically, mine is above Judy’s.

And here I was thinking, “This albergue is a big place. She got here hours before me. We may not even see each other.” Not only are we in the same room, we’re in the same bed frame. Clearly there is something unfinished here.

I was late leaving the albergue because I was putting pictures in the last blog entry. The hospitalero was waiting outside, I think to give me directions. I chose NOT to walk an extra 7k to see the monastery.

I walked just over a mile and was in a tiny village, sitting on a rock and having some of the pork sandwich from the night before when a pilgrim said, “There’s a really good breakfast place just up there.” It turned out to be Albergue Ecologico Los Besos, a place I considered staying until I read it had no WiFi.

I don’t take a picture of every single thing I eat anymore, but this orange cake was special. Afterward I continued walking to Aguiada. I saw a chicken with her chicks, and a VERY purposeful cat. He (or she) trotted down the lane past me without a glance. I wondered what cat business was so absorbing.

This is not the purposeful cat. This cat came running to greet me, rubbing himself all over my sticks and legs. I petted him, and he did the “I’ll bite the hand that pets me” thing. Thank goodness I was wearing gloves. As I moved on, he chased my sticks and swatted them. I said, “Warum machst du das? Tu eres un loco gatito, tu sabes?” Which is a weird mixture of German and Spanish but it’s like all my foreign language is in the same drawer, and when I reach in for a word it might be German or Spanish. I don’t always know.

I was between three and four miles away when I realized I had to poop. (Sigh.) Nature toilet again. I laid down my sticks, took off my pack, dug out my wet wipes, and took off my gloves so I wouldn’t get crap on them.

As I forced my way into some brush, something stung my hand. It burned like fire. Then something stung the other hand. I glanced down and there was a pale insect on my arm. I brushed it away, but my arm wasn’t stung. Then something stung me THROUGH MY PANT LEG.

I realized it had to be a plant, but there were no obvious nettles or thorns. I couldn’t tell which plant was attacking me, and I wasn’t going to bare my butt in the middle of that, so I buttoned my pants and decided to find a better place. Less than a quarter mile on I found a bar, which meant a toilet.

My hands burned for hours, and one has a small blister. I don’t know which plant it was, but after I took this picture my finger brushed the foliage by the wall, and the same thing happened. After Spain has provided miles of cherry trees and even some small, sweet strawberries growing by the road, I can forgive it one attack plant. But damn that thing hurt.

I met and walked with Bev today. I knew I wouldn’t walk with Jackie again. If your objective is to share Jesus, you walk with different pilgrims, not the same one. Jackie stayed in Sarria, and Bev and I went on to Barbadelo. But I will lose her tomorrow.

She’s walking with some of her family, and they decided they needed some time apart. But she feels they need to talk and work out some issues. She lives in D.C., and her sister and brother/in-law, with whom she is walking, live in San Francisco. We had talked about how the Camino is an in-between place, which is why politics don’t matter here. I suggested that since the Camino is “neutral territory,” it would be best to have the conversation here. So she is waiting for them in Portomarin tomorrow.

When we got to Barbadelo, Bev and I drank tinto verrano, my new favorite drink, and ate dinner together. I felt so sorry for our waiter, trying to work and watch the World Cup at the same time. We came back and Judy went to sleep in her bunk while I played on my phone in mine until I felt sleepy.

It was raining and had been for hours. Suddenly there was a huge crack of thunder directly overhead. I pulled off my eye mask and said, “Whoa. That was right overhead.” A young male pilgrim from Germsny or somewhere asked, ” You are frightened?” I said, “Are you kidding? I’m from Texas.” “Ah. You have many storms like this.” “Yes. But even in Texas, that was right overhead.”

The windows were slightly open and a fine mist blew on me occasionally. (Top bunk again.) I had been luxuriating in my two favorite things, a warm blanket in a cold room, when I realized the blanket was wet.

There was a leak in the roof above my bed. I probably should have agreed to wake Judy up and move the bed, because it is likely the water will find it’s way to her eventually, but what I did instead was tell the hospitalera. I got moved to another room, much better, no bunks, ACTUAL SHEETS, and two very handsome men who sleep in their underwear to look at. I love the Camino.

Here are the rest of the pictures from today. I love that there are fountains when you need them. This one was very cold. I think it was a spring.