Nothing will come of nothing
As I struggled to get to my feet in the evening, and hobbled across the room, back stooped, the hospitalero burst out laughing. This was a sight that could be seen in albergues all over France and Spain.
Never tired pilgrim's limbs affected slumber more
Werner and Paul are here as well, and the Estonian couple, in this very hospitable hostel, the Albergue Van Gogh, run by the local Camino association. On my arrival, Antonio the hospitalero, and Juliana, his Dutch companion, offered me a delicious lentil soup and a meal of fried mushrooms. Steffen the German is at another hostel and John the Canadian has a room of his own in the centre of town.
Antonio and Juliana are kind and helpful, and drove Terje back to Fuente to get the money back on her boots after a sole had come apart after one day's walk.
For several hours this morning, I walked the old road again, the Via de la Plata, in the footsteps of Phoenicians, Romans and Moors; Christian priests, knights, pilgrims and minstrels; Spanish merchants as they traded; and villagers as the travelled from town to town for )weddings and feast days. Eventually, the old road met the highway where it was swallowed, because the new road found it convenient to follow the course of the old one.
Some days are more interesting than others. This was one of the others. It wasn't a particularly difficult day and I arrived in Zafra quite early in the afternoon. Mind you, I had woken up at four and left at seven. But after the joyous variety of yesterday, my trek today was uninteresting: rolling pasture and fields of wheat. Rather like Saskatchewan, I thought. No profound thoughts, no interesting events. Even my photos were dull. So I leave you with a photo of a friendly goat, and take the night off.
No comments:
Post a Comment