Where am I today? Puente de Villarente:
https://maps.google.com/maps?q=puente+de+villarente&hl=en&ll=42.550836,-5.464926&spn=0.012994,0.027874&hq=puente+de+villarente&radius=15000&t=m&z=16&layer=c&cbll=42.550769,-5.466508&panoid=4CO_MteWV3i5QMeluar-nQ&cbp=12,9.2,,0,10.95
If you look closely under the green El Corte Ingles sign, you can see a blue pilgrim sign with an arrow underneath. Turn the camera right and there's a yellow arrow painted on the asphalt on the shoulder, right next to the sidewalk.
Entry
39, January 2nd,
2012
I
don't know how I am always the last one awake and the first one ready
to go in the morning (except for the Master, of course).
Rosa's
pasta was delicious, but I think I left most of it in the toilet last
night. I swear that I sat down and just emptied my entire digestive
tract like opening a valve. There was a sucking sound at the back of
my throat and a whirlpool. Muddy butt doesn't even begin to describe
it.
Tunnel
graffiti:
M.VIII.2008
“Peace:
It does not mean to be in a place with no noise, trouble, or hard
work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm
in your heart.”
Later
Lower
intestine continues to be a problem. I am fertilizing the fields of
Northern Spain. Unpleasant.
Later
In
a bar in Reliego. The place has character and is rightly featured in
many guides to the camino. Flags of all sorts decorate the interior,
and pilgrims have left grafitti on every square inch of the plastered
walls (the other walls are mud). The owner has a neat mustache and
soul patch on a nicely triangular face that is topped off with a
beret that matches his beard. Salsa music plays in the background .
. . love that horn sound! Bar “La Torre.”
He
just put on “A Change is Gonna Come.”
“It's
too hard livin'/
But
I'm afraid to die.”
Damn
I miss home. No one else here understands . . . “oh, yeah, it's
nice.” No, no, no you don't get it. The blues! The blues! My
home!
Later
I'm
sitting in the albergue in Puenta de Villarente listening to Ursula
and Frank the Scot talking. They've both traveled so much! I
underestimated Frank.
He
built his own boat when he retired and sailed with his wife from
Scotland. Scotland, Ireland, La Coruña, Lisbon, the Canary Islands
. . . eight years later he was in Singapore and the wife went back to
Scotland. Oh, and he knows Slocum's book, of course. Since then
he's continued sailing. 1998 to now, jeez.
So
add another thing to my list of stuff to do! Haha because I
don't have enough already.
He's
telling a story about a horse race down the volcano in Galapagos.
Damn.
Expenses,
Day 39
Albergue
San Pelayo, in Puente de Villarente: 10.00
Dinner:
10.00
Laundry:
4.50
Total:
24.50
Trip
Total: 901.64
The
End of notebook 2
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