On our last night in Porto – or should I say morning – it was 1:38 a.m. and I was wide awake writing this post. Not by choice, believe me. Lesson learned, never – ever – book a hotel room on a bustling riverfront, on a Friday night, where there are bars and restaurants just below your hotel room window. Oy vey!
The kindness of strangers.
We walked from Vega de Valcarce to O Cebriero on a soggy sodden muckity mucked trail. Up and up and up we climbed, for hours. Horses use this section of the trail. Do I need to say more? The redeeming grace was the gift of spectacular views.
We sat basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun at a table on the Plaza Mayor in Villafranca. Every village on the Camino has a Plaza Mayor, I think it’s the law. Abi with his cerveza and me with Sangria, we sipped the cold refreshing drinks and desperately tried to keep our eyes open. We ordered mixed salads and another round. It was the perfect ending to a good day. Today. Day 25.
Left, right, left, right, one foot in front of the other, onward we walk. We walk in sync, although my stride is a bit shorter than Abi’s. We walk in silence, we jibber jabber when one of us has something profound to say. You know, something along the lines of, I wonder what kind of tree that is or those purple and white flowers sure are pretty. There’s a lot of deep thinking between us while walking.
For a multitude of reasons we hopped a bus out of Leon to a sleepy little village about 19 miles outside of the city, our next planned destination. We stepped off the bus and quickly realized the entire town was closed up tight because May 1 is a major holiday in Spain – didn’t see that coming.
When your husband looks at your feet and asks, “How is it that you’re even standing?” you know it may be time to give it a rest. Not throw in the towel, just give it a rest. I will spare you the graphic details because quite frankly I’m sick of writing about my sick feet, but suffice it to say there was no longer any question that we needed to stop for a few days in an attempt to heal.
On the morning of day 14, we had decided to ride the bus for about 15 – 17 kms, stop at a village alongside the highway, and then walk 4 kms to Atapuerca, our next planned destination. My feet needed a very short day. As we were checking out of the hotel, in Villafranca, the desk clerk asked if we were going to have breakfast and we said, no, we have to catch the bus.