9 May to Tardajos

When you wake up to this, you decide to wait in bed a wee bit longer. Well, I did! When I eventually made a move, I asked the owner of the feet if he’d had a good night, meaning did he find the food he’d gone out looking for in the evening.

“No, I was awake almost all the night thinking about what you said yesterday.”

Huh? He was behind me in the checkin queue and complained that a sign said you could leave (ie. had to leave) between 6:30 and 8. He wanted a more leisurely start to his day. All I had said was, “That’s funny, others were complaining that they couldn’t leave before 6:30. Maybe you’re in the wrong place. Would you consider a private room?” Obviously he didn’t, because there he was on the bunk above me. And all night he’d been thinking how much he is not enjoying the Camino, he finds it so boring and was thinking maybe he really was in the wrong place. Not just wrong albergue, but maybe the Camino wasn’t for him. I asked a bunch of questions, hopefully to help him identify what was most important for him, gave him some information that was useful and left him to make up his mind. On my way out the door, he was putting his boots on and I handed him a chocolate bar which made him a smile. A Korean man had given it to me yesterday as a thank you for lending him my spork! Share the love.

Before I could leave Burgos there were two jobs I needed to do – I thought I’d be on my way quickly.

Haha silly me.

Number one was get some cash. En route to the nearest ATM, I heard my name called out. There was Paula sitting at the very restaurant where Rob and the children and I had had our last meal before Rob headed back to Madrid on the bus and the rest of us walked westwards, racing to see who would reach their destination first. The children had taken it in turn to sob their way through the meal much to the consternation of the chef. This time there was happiness as Paula suggested I drop my pack while I ran the errand. She was in no hurry.

This didn’t look too promising, but there was an ATM….however it wanted to charge me 7 euros to withdraw my money. So I plugged in the BBVA bank to Organic Maps and discovered it was only 300m away. I was sure Paula wouldn’t mind…she had a full plate of food to demolish. BBVA wanted to charge me 7 euros as well and so it was time to Google “fees free bank in Spain”. Unicaja. Ah, that’s right, I remember now. Back to Organic Maps and to my delight there was one just another 200m away. Only there wasn’t. I walked round and round the block I was directed to, and asked a couple of people, but they both said it was gone. Now I was getting a bit concerned about making Paula wait, but was happy to find there was meant to be another one back towards her restaurant. Yippee. Yes, there it was with someone using the ATM. I stashed my money and card away and started racing back. But I got stopped in my tracks. When we were here ten years ago we happened upon a delicious patisserie and bought big cream-filled pastries. I had hoped to do the same again this time, but had not been up to looking for anything. However, when it was right here in front of me with the very pastries sitting in the window, I had to go in and buy two. One for Paula to say sorry! And I really would have to say sorry because the lady serving me really took her time wrapping up my package and tying it with string.

Paula was impressed! By the time I got back, she had a French lady sitting with her and someone called Anastasia who I had never met appeared and so we decided the pastries would feed four nicely. The other ladies wanted a photo and after a botched selfie attempt we asked a man at the next table to take a pic. He turned out to be French and not only took photos, but also told us all about the name of the pastry that was actually French. Somehow Anastasia had disappeared so we gave French Photographer one of the pieces – he promptly cut it in half and shared it with the Korean man at his table. Appreciative noises abounded as they declared how good it was.

Anastasia reappeared and so we chopped the halves again and took our own turn at oohing and aahing and licking our fingers. There were still two pieces left and so I offered them to a guy sitting on his own behind us. He turned out to be a kiwi from Christchurch who had just spent an hour on the phone sorting out a frustrating drama at home. It was nice to see him smile too – and he shared the last bit with a friend who materialised out of nowhere! His photo is included (as always, with his permission) so he can feel famous…he has been reading the blog!!!

So much fun and laughter.

As I got up to leave, I became aware the bells in the cathedral were ringing, not happily chiming as they usually do, but just two single somber tones being struck five seconds apart, over and over. As I neared the top of the stairs that skirt along the side of the cathedral I looked back. A crowd, including a group of young school children, was gathering by the enormous doors that were being opened by a priest in a purple gown. Four nuns were standing at the foot of the stairs, holding a tiny coffin. The bells kept chiming. The square went eerily quiet as people noticed and stopped their conversations. The bells kept chiming. For half an hour. Then it was time for the nuns to climb the steps and meet with the half dozen purple-robed officials. Everyone crossed themselves and organ music poured out of the chapel as the procession entered.

I walked on, feeling simultaneously grateful and somber.

Job number two was to buy some salami for dinner and as I entered a supermarket I kept thinking about the family and friends in the chapel while the rest of us continued with life.

Three other pilgrims were just ahead of me, but I caught them up as they kept “having boy looks”, struggling to find the arrows. They were walking slightly faster, but kept stopping until I caught up and pointed out an arrow.

The Swedish guy slowed to walk with me. These are special Camino moments. This is his seventh Camino, but he didn’t expect to be walking again. Four and a half months ago he was rushed to hospital in an ambulance, completely paralysed. He was told he would not recover. He prayed, really prayed to Jesus as he lay there motionless and here he is walking again with Jesus. I asked if he had prayed to Jesus before…yes, in 2018 he had walked his first Camino as an atheist (as he had been brought up) and “really not good person”. When he got to Santiago he knelt down in the cathedral and “physically felt the awesome presence of God”. It was so mighty, it totally transformed his life. He went back to his old mates to tell them of Jesus and how they needed to stop hurting people and all but one of them turned their backs on him. To lose his friends was a huge sacrifice, but one that he still believes was totally worthwhile.

As we were walking we met half a dozen pilgrims coming towards us. When yet another older couple approached, we stopped them. The first step in conversations like this is usually to determine which language to use. This time it was to be German, so I asked what had happened and then translated for Mr Sweden. They had spent last night at Tardajos, but could not find ANY accommodation in any of the next dozen villages, neither for tonight nor tomorrow. So they were returning to Burgos.

This didn’t concern Mr Sweden too much as he is carrying a tent, but I had to give myself a wee talking-to about not worrying or trying to find solutions before I knew if there was a problem.

A Dutch lady caught me up and we compared stories…both of us walking without reservations, refusing to be affected by the panic that is overtaking many. In fact, the lady said for the last few days she has purposely been going in to places late in the day to see if there are beds free and she has found something in every place she has stopped. It is possible that people think there is nothing when they can’t get a reservation, but there are municipal and parroquial Albergues that can’t be booked in advance, and apart from my one COMPLETO experience back in Los Arcos when I arrived late, they have so far been available. But it can be a challenge not to get caught up in the bed shortage panic.

When we got to Tardajos, there was just one backpack waiting outside the albergue. No need to have worried!

While we waited for 2pm opening time I chatted with a Canadian Mom and her 16 year old daughter, who are struggling, but no wonder given they have done days of over 35km and one over 50. This lady turned out to be a Cardiology Cardiovascular Electrophysiology and Cardiac Device Rhythm Technologist. Quite the mouthful. But good timing for me. Last night a lady had urged me to get treatment for my tooth because “better to have it treated than have the infection get into your blood and have a heart attack”!!! When I probed deeper, she turned out to be an artist rather than a medic so I dismissed her well-meaning advice. But with a cardiac specialist sitting right next to me, I thought I’d get a professional opinion. Turns out the artist was not quite right, but wasn’t far wrong. The infection CAN get into your blood and can then attack your heart and you die. Brilliant! I’ll be going back to Burgos on Monday for treatment. Let’s get rid of that bacteria as fast as we can. As the Cardiology Cardiovascular Electrophysiology and Cardiac Device Rhythm Technologist said, “Why would you wait to see if it’s going to get worse?”

But this afternoon I got to watch the storks flying back and forth, feeding their young. Little beaks poked up out of some nests, and slightly older birds took teetering steps around the tower. Amazing how something so gangly can soar majestically.