Underwear is very important on the Camino. If a pilgrim washes nothing else, they wash that.

In Viana, there was a Frenchman who started from Le Puy, so he had already been walking for over a month. I don’t remember his name, so I’ll call him Jacques.

Jacques came to me and said, “I can’t find my slip.” I immediately picture this six foot bearded man in a spaghetti strap satin number, and said, “Your what?” “My slip, my slip,” he said, tugging on his waistband. “Oh! Your underwear?” “Yes, yes, my underwear.” So an entire roomful of pilgrims began scouring the place, looking for Jacques’ underwear. Finally Oonagh (not sure of the spelling anymore; she was Irish), said, “What did you do, Jacques, sling ’em ’round your head and yell, ‘Whee!?'”

No, he hadn’t done that. What he had done was put them on the windowsill to dry, and they had fallen to the courtyard below.

As I mentioned in another entry, I have seen way more men in their underwear than I ever wanted. You’re lying there on your bed, too drained to get up and wash off the dust of the road, and some young Greek god walks by on his way to the bathroom, and you’re like, “Get that tight, sculpted thing out of my sight line. You’re not offering, and even if you were I’m too tired to take you up on it.”

I also have stood in a bar with a pair of pants going, “Who’s are these?” and found they belonged to someone I met two days ago. Life on the Camino.

I have a reservation in Santiago on the 19th. As I might have mentioned, I had to decide whether to move it to the 21st (or later) or give up visiting Finisterre and Muxia for the sake of walking every inch of the Camino with my own feet.

I decided 90% by my own feet was okay. Actually it will be more than that. Not sure how much.

Today I walked 18 miles from Carrion de Los Condes to Terradillos de Los Templarios. It wasn’t that hard, just long. It took me till after 4:00, when I started at 7. 11 miles of it was with no villages, so I had only the food and water I could carry.

Actually an enterprising local has set up an oasis halfway. I was just sitting, using his chair, when he came and asked, “What do you want?” in a voice that clearly established I was to pay rent for that chair.

So I said, “Un Coca-Cola Zero, por favor.” He said, “Si,” and brought me a Diet Pepsi. I said, “This is Pepsi. I do not drink Pepsi.” He said, “I do not sell Coke,” and then proceeded to tell me how unhealthy Coke is and how if you left a piece of meat in Coke overnight it would dissolve. And I’m thinking, “The exact same thing would happen with a Pepsi.”

But I don’t say it. Instead I tell him the story of the dark icy night when a Pepsi truck nearly ran me off the road. We compromise on a Fanta.

There’s no toilet so I have to stop behind some bushes a bit further down the road. I have a book that says etiquette is you go 100 yards from the trail. That would have put me in the middle of an empty wheat field.

I’m not dropping my drawers in front of God and everybody, my white butt gleaming like one of the plastic-wrapped hay bales they have here. I crouched in the ditch, then had to get heads of wheat out of my underwear. (There was wheat in the field next to the road.) But a pilgrim’s gotta do what a pilgrim’s gotta do.

Speaking of God and everybody, I learned an alternative phrase to “bun-f$&@in’ Egypt.” In Spain you say, “Where Jesus wore shoes.” Today I was out where Jesus wore shoes.

Bjorn and Dalilah were in the albergue when I got there, both a little worried about me because I took so long. We have a room for four and OUR OWN BATHROOM!Life is good. Life is very, very good.

My phone died early so not a lot of pictures today.These are leaving Carrión de Los Condes.This on the 11 mile section.This is how we all feel when arriving at an oasis.

Here is the most important picture. I am at the white dot.

Do you see? Almost exactly halfway! Here is another important picture.

Remember the first one of these I took?

I have walked 392 kilometers, over 236 miles. Yeah, I can’t believe it either.

One of my deep desires is to be immersed in a culture not my own. I thought I would experience the Spanish culture. I am not. I am experiencing the pilgrim culture.

The pilgrim culture is born of sweat, heat, and pain. It says if I have, and you need, I share. If we share a language, and especially a country, we may not travel together but I am obligated to help you if I can.

Age, nationality, religion, politics (although my life is infinitely easier NOT being a Trump supporter) none of that matters. What matters is your smile welcomes me to the table, your song strengthens my feet, and you always, always pay your share of the laundry bill.

So today Christina was too sick to walk. The hospitalero gave her a ride to the city, and Dalilah will go to the doctor with her. Lukas, who joined us just a few days ago to be with Christina, WALKED ON WITHOUT HER, and left her alone and sick in a foreign country.

Major culture violation.

She has forgiven him, as women do.

I was told I couldn’t miss the singing nuns of Carrion de Los Condes. So today we walked only 10 miles and are staying at the convent alburgue. The nun who checked me in repaired my credencial, which is dog-eared, torn, and sweat-stained. Here are today’s pictures.This was breakfast. You smear the tomato on toast, sprinkle it with salt, then pour on oil.If you look very closely, you’ll see there’s a teepee. The smaller arrow points to the number of a taxi service.Sheep with their shepherd. The dog crossed the road first.The meseta. I understand why so many people skip it.Steps as we approached the albergue.This was lunch. I walked 10.1 miles on cafe con leche and two pieces of toast. Yes, I ate the whole thing. No, the beer is not mine.

I sang with the nuns at 5:30. It was wonderful. Was blessed by the priest and got a star from the nuns. Community dinner was wonderful. Only hitch was I waited too long to try and send my pack on so I have to carry it tomorrow. Oh well. I’ve done worse.

I tried to put in too many pictures. When I took them out, it still thought they were there. So I trashed it. Here is a new post. Some pictures are from my day with the black beast, some the day after.This is the view from the mountain I had to climb after I got rid of the bike. This is the incline I would have had to ride down. It was about 20 degrees, which doesn’t sound like much till you walk it.

I spent most of today alone. Dalilah got tired of waiting and went on alone, and Bjorn can’t walk my slow speed. We stopped at a lovely albergue, La Finca, and will be in Carrion de Los Condes tomorrow. I have about decided to leave my crew and bus to Hospital de Orbigo. I will have to wait for better WiFi for pictures.This is a cart you can take across a nasty part we are all prepping for today. Eleven miles with no villages, so no food or water other than what you take with you.This is one of the first signs that has Santiago on it.I had to ask Bjorn, am I buying a dog treat?This park was a truly lovely spot to rest and have some water.While I was waiting on my laundry I did this.

Dinner was family style.

I have gotten off somewhere, because I don’t think I’ve been walking 20 days. Oh well. If this blog ever becomes a book I’ll retitle the entries.

I rented the bike without much trouble, other than having to call my bank because two transactions, (rental and deposit) for almost the same amount, from the same place, within minutes of each other,got denied. But I got it.

It was awful. I missed my bike so much, but Baby is sleek and light. This was a black monster at least 5 times heavier. I’m a road cyclist, not mountain. Baby doesn’t do rocks and gravel. So I didn’t know how to handle them. And whoever said the meseta is flat LIED! I went down a hill that would have made a mountain biker go “Whee!” but made me go “Augh!” and begin walking. I walked that damn bike as much as I rode it. W/o Bike shorts, (feast day, remember?) Over rocks.

I realized that even if I managed to get shorts and took roads, I was still pedaling a black beast five times too heavy, and my legs just weren’t equal to it. Plus there is a prevailing west wind ( the direction I’m going) and approximately every mph of wind is one degree of incline. So I did this.

Figuratively, not literally. That’s over $400 lying there. But note the discarded articles around it. By the time I got to the albergue I was sobbing with exhaustion. There was no WiFi. We had paella again. Pepe’s was better.

The next morning Christina offered to ride the beast to Hontanas. The sunrise was gorgeous.

After a large breakfast we walked to Itero de Castillo, almost 30 km down the road. They don’t come out in the pictures, but some of those inclines were 20 degrees or more. Yeah, getting rid of the bike was the right decision.We were supposed to go to Itero de la Vega, where I sent my back, but just couldn’t make the last three km. So the husband of the hospitalera took me to get it. Now I am using the WiFi late at night (the whole village shares one router) and I am all caught up. Goodnight.

Here is a picture of me, since you haven’t seen me for awhile.Here is me, Bjorn, and Dalilah leaving the Hostal Lar.

Yes, they’re out of order. I thought they would order by when I started, not when I posted. Disculpe.

Rest days are important. Walking is so much work. I didn’t understand, watching Fred on his adventure, why he didn’t go see the castle, or the cathedral, or the many sights that are here. It’s a little like asking a man in a cigarette factory why he doesn’t roll cigars for fun. You can’t get to the sights without walking, and walking is work.

That said, we did an awful lot of work on our rest day. We stayed in Hostel Lar the first night. Dalilah went out while Bjorn and I napped. We met Chris for dinner, then left he and Dalilah with a huge group of pilgrims while Bjorn and I had a quiet gin then went back and slept through the concert and the fireworks.

The next day we didn’t go out until noon. After lunch we walked around trying to find Albergue Divina Pastores, which turned out to be practically next to the restaurant. It was modern but clearly in a very old building.

The “walk a huge distance to find something close” turned out to be a theme for the day. We did it over and over. We wanted to reach Burgos for the party, but then ran in to the problem of everything being closed. This has significance later.

We found a lavanderia and washed and dried our clothes. We went to the benediction for pilgrims in the cathedral, and I thought that room was the only one of the cathedral I would see. Clearly I was wrong.

The city was filled with volunteer bands from different provinces.

I had to take care of a blister, which I got from a product I got to prevent blisters. You see an x through it, leaving the ends free. The fluid drains through the ends, so you lose the pain from the pressure, but the skin stays over and protects it.

Another pilgrim borrowed my sewing kit for just that operation, then forgot what bed was mine so she couldn’t return it. I got it back eventually.

Yes, I know it should be day seventeen. Scroll up if you really need to read them in order.

After the fiesta the city was trashed. There was nowhere open for breakfast on Sunday morning. Last night I was told I could send my pack on from Bar Babia. So this morning I said goodbye to Bjorn and Dalilah and tried to find it. Consulted a map twice, got nearly propositioned by a still-drunk man in his early 20’s (“Excuse me, but I’ve been in prison for the last 5 years…”), met Christina and Lukas, and FINALY found the bar. Labeled my pack and hopefully it will get where it needs to be. Now to find the bicycle rental store.

Instead I found Cindy, a high school teacher from California. She was going to tour the cathedral, so I went along. I only had my water bottle, so I left it in Elizabeth’s locker. She is also a pilgrim I met. Now I’m done and I’m praying the locker is still locked by her because she hasn’t come out yet. Hopefully she soon will.

I find I am very fatalistic this trip. If I meet her, fine. If too much time goes by and I’ve lost the bottle, okay. I’ll be unhappy, but I can get another. I’m a little worried all the bikes will be gone by now, but if they are, I’ll start walking. I’ll move faster w/o my pack and I will know I wasn’t meant to bikea. But Elizabeth will be along and my bike will be there. That’s how the Camino works. In the meantime, here is the cathedral.

I was trying to take a picture of the fly catcher in the corner. He is an automaton that is part of a clock.)

Elizabeth finally emerged just before noon. Because she did, I heard this.

Now I am in the bar next to the bicycle rental shop, having a quick tortilla de patata (no picture, you’ve seen it) before going next door. Buen Camino!

We left at 6. It was cold when we left Pepe’s house; we didn’t want to go through that again. So the sun had risen by the time we left, although not far.The Church is in Villalval, a village before Burgos. It was not bombed, just neglected.

I forget where the mural is, exactly, but this is how we all feel.

This is just on the outskirts of Burgos.

This house was in a Burgos suburb called Villafria. Look carefully at the chimney. You’ll see why I took the picture.

There is more than one way into Burgos. We took the path through the park.

We found our hostel, and Bjorn and I napped while Dalilah explored. It was raining when we finally emerged, or had been, so we saw this.

The city was having a fiesta, so many shops were closed. We did, however, find dinner.

This was a traditional Spanish band in costume. In the same square was a statue of the Virgin , with offerings of flowers.