When I had reached my destination for the day I bumped into a lady, who had been at the same place as me yesterday. I had thought she was having a hard day (the sun was too hot, the tipis were going to be too cold, the blankets were smelly…you get the idea) I tend to err on the side of glass-half-full (or even overflowing), and I didn’t doubt for a moment she would join my enthusiasm for what a beautiful walk we had experienced today. She had just three words for me, “Oh the mud” and I realised some people must enjoy being miserable!
Conversation with one of them when she caught up with me:
Her: Hi, where are you from?
Me: New Zealand
Her: Oh, you too?
Me: Are you from New Zealand? I’d have picked you as South African.
Her: Yeah I was. Emigrated over thirty years ago.
Me: Do you live on the North Shore?
Her: No, Eastern suburbs. You?
Me: Titirangi, out west. Are you walking alone?
Her: Yes, I think it’s the best way to do a Camino, you really need to do it on your own.
And with that she either took some photos, or pretended to – either way, I didn’t see her again!
The path to Rabanal was a little single-file affair twelve years ago. You can see a little of what’s left of it up there ^^ on the right. To the left is the new track that has been bulldozed through the forest.
It is easier to walk on, but has lost some of the charm. A bit like the camino in general. “Progress” comes at a cost. You can have your bag transported each day, and book private rooms and buy fruit smoothies…it all makes it easier, but it also makes it a different experience….but then I wonder what the pilgrims of yore would have thought of those of us with hiking poles and backpacks and an albergue with bunks whenever we get tired.
The changes can be positive for the pueblos…a decade ago the pueblo where I have stopped today was a tumbledown almost-ghost-town. We went into the only bar, hoping to get some food and bought ALL the oranges and cupcakes that were available for purchase – which amounted to about half each. Today´s daytime menu:
There are still some crumbling buildings here…
…but there are also now six albergues and a few other eateries too. You can even buy souvenirs here (if you want to carry them!)
All afternoon the whole village was humming with pilgrims.
I imagine the village before this one, Rabanal, would be similar. It has had a transformation on a similar scale.
It still has a fence about a kilometre long full of crosses leading up to it:
And it still has a Benedictine monastery with a church that was not only open, but celebrating mass as I passed.
The path between the two villages was just like it used to be:
I had stopped to put my camera away and a Spanish girl came up behind me. Conversation (in Spanish):
Her: Do you need help?
Me: No, but thank you. I am good.
Her: Good.
Me: What a beautiful day!
Her: A spectacular day!
Me: And a beautiful view
Her: Precious
And it was! I struggle to understand how someone could focus on the mud.
Suddenly the village was in view and someone was calling my name from behind me. It was the Kiwi-Dutch couple who know my neighbour. We walked the last kilometre together enjoying a lot of laughs…
…they stopped at the first Albergue where they had a booking (they usually book private rooms, but everything was full so they settled for this place) and I continued on to the last one, where I was planning to stay…
…but it was closed today, so I zipped back to join the other two, hoping there would be a bed. I was in luck, unlike the hordes who dropped in during the afternoon.
Lots more joy.
And music outside all afternoon
And hilarious dinner together…three kiwis (one of them deaf), two South Koreans, one American and one French without English, who I ended up translating for despite speaking no French. As I say, hilarious. And we only resorted to Google translate once.
Not only hilarious, though. Also deep conversation about language and mental illness. A very satisfying evening.
SoloWalk2024 