Friday, June 8, 2012
Queridos amigos,
As I entered Samos yesterday, I saw Simon and Brenda sipping something under an umbrella along with other pilgrims. I took their picture, feeling this might be the last time I see them. Brenda says her husband is in Sarria tonight and she will join him tomorrow.
Brenda
Simon
In the morning, as I pushed off, I saw the Gang of Four now reduced to the Gang of Three. They were being photographed by a woman who was about to join them. She asked me to take their photo with her camera. I noticed that the screen on her camera is partly smashed. It didn’t work; she checked and saw that the camera card is full.
While she changed it, I talked with the three. Sue’s broken toe had caused her foot to swell so much that she can no longer put on her boot, so she’s headed home. The previous evening I saw them all barefooted. Sue's toes looked like mine, but Lydia's feet could belong to a model. I mentioned this to them and asked what Lydia's secret was. Turned out she has more foot problems than anyone in the group. I took the photo, they moved out, and I know I will not see them again as they were pushing on beyond Sarria tonight.
The Gang of Three, Lydia on the left
The Gang of Three Passes by El Meson Llar Earlier
I dropped a Lock in the Garden in Front of the Monastery Chapel Before Departing Samos
Today will be the shortest (some 8.5 miles), easiest (no big hills, no big rocks), coolest (97 percent of the path is in deep shade; I never break a sweat), but also the slowest walk of my journey. I’m just dragging, like running a car on 20 octane gas.
I blame it on the changes I've been making in my nutrition. Tiring of red wine and pork, I've been going for soups, salads, and water lately. I recall it was Napoleon who said an army marches on its stomach and decide to return to red meat and red wine to see if that helps.
Beautiful, quiet country roads. Animals grazing or resting. Huge trees, lichen and moss covered walls, and long, long fences of piled stones. Beautiful wildflowers. Whenever I take a silence break, I hear bees buzzing as well as birds singing. I have photos of all this.
One of Many Giant Chestnut Trees Along the Path
I come to a country graveyard. The entrance to the graveyard is locked, but not to the chapel above it. I go into the yard, lean over the wall enclosing the graveyard, and drop a few of Susan’s locks into a stand of pretty red wildflowers growing between two tombs.
Later, although the ground is level and there are no rocks, I stumble and fall a second time. Another small cut on the knee and one on the elbow. I must make some kind of noise because a farmer on the other side of the wall shouts to me. I say I’m a pilgrim, had a fall, and am okay. He continues to talk; can't understand him, must be speaking Gallego. I notice that I now walk with a slight limp, and my left shoulder, the one I rely on for my tennis toss, hurts. [Months later, an MRI will reveal that this fall completely severed the supraspinatus tendon in my rotator cuff, partially tore another, and did other damage. Surgery was scheduled and postponed, as I’ve tried to use physical therapy as alternate way. The future is still unclear on this one.]
Not more than 90 seconds later a taxi whizzes past me, comes to the village just ahead, makes a U-turn and stops. I think this must be the son-in-law of the farmer, quick to take advantage of an opportunity. As I approach, he gets out of the taxi and says, "Digame." (Tell me.). I say Halo and keep going. This is no time to start bad habits.
I come to a pleasant little cafe called Taberna do Camino. I order a large natural orange juice, water, and a tortilla de patata. I order it from the señora in the kitchen, and see that she produces juice from a push and rotate hand juicer.
Perhaps a dozen pilgrims inside and outside. One looks like the Irish girl with the muslin wings I bought orange juice for. I ask her if she is from Ireland; she says no, but she can act like it if I want. I apologize and sit down and eat.
The tortilla really is excellent, and I tell the señora so. She glows. Compliments cost me nothing.
Immediately I feel better and walk faster, even overtaking a middle-aged German couple.
Two and a half miles later I walk into Sarria, and up to my hotel, the Alfonso IX. Coming toward me are Brenda and her husband. He is just as I had imagined him: big guy, friendly, strong handshake. Brenda says she was just telling him about me, and perhaps we'll see each other later.
This is know: if I had not seen my wife for a month, and if she had just been through an ordeal as Brenda has, and if I had flown half way around the world to reunite with her, the very last thing I would want to do is talk with some guy she met on the road. I decide to make myself scarce.
I check in. The clerk asks, one night? I say I'd like an option for a second night. She says there will be a wedding there tomorrow and I retract my request for a second night.
I take a hot, soaking bath and go for a walk. The hotel is by a river, and cafes and tables with umbrellas line the pretty river walk. A goodly number of pilgrims enjoying the view, but also young Spaniards.
Feeling short of fruit and vegetables in my diet, I stop in a shop and buy carrots, plums, bananas, cherries, and an apple. Then I go to the ferretería, a hardware store, and buy a simple pocket knife to scrape the carrots.
The fruit weighs more than I thought. There’s not enough room in my pack to be able to carry all this. I return to my room and eat a carrot, a banana, a plum, and half the cherries while watching Poland play Greece in soccer.
I go next door and use one of the 12 computers available at a shop that has electronic games along with computer rentals. The hotel has only WiFi.
Tomorrow holds a 14-mile trek with climbing. I'm planning to have steak for dinner, then lavish attention on my toes, get a good night's sleep, and push off early in the morning. I am over 425 miles into the Camino.
That is it for this evening. This computer seems to have a camera slot. I’ll try to send some photos if it works.
Saludos a todos,
John
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