Villatuerta

Today I yelled at a fly. 

As in a bug. I yelled at a bug. 

But it really had it coming. 

We left Obanos a little later than we’d hoped, but still early-ish. It was a stunning walk through Puente la Reina and just beyond, until it started to get REAL with some intense heat and humidity and yep, you guessed it, UPHILL CLIMBS. Plural. At the top of the second or third big hill, when temps had begun to reach less than ideal heights, these relentless flies were circling and circling and landing on my face and sticking to my sunscreen sweat and flying up my nose, and before I realized what I was doing I yelled STTTOOOOPPPPP! At a fly. I yelled at a freaking insect. And you know what, it felt good. I have no regrets. 

After the bug altercation, we moved on to bigger and definitely not better things. Hills, mostly. It was grueling. At one point I was so hot and tired I was about to cry, and actually thought to myself, "No. You can’t waste fluids on that." That’s what we’re dealing with. Sweat was already streaming down my face like tears, so I swallowed my tears and pressed on. 

We were still rewarded with beauty every step of the way. Vineyards, impressive rock formations, the most adorable cities situated on the most adorable hillsides. 

We made it to the town nearest to our destination in a bit of a pathetic state, low on water and morale. It’s amazing what an electrolyte drink, water refill, and a few moments of rest can do. Two of our Camino friends Philipp and Sofia (with whom we usually cross paths usually 2-3-4 times a day, it’s pretty incredible) once again crossed our path in this cafe, looking just as spent as we were, if not worse off. They couldn’t decide if they would press on or just crash at the albergue attached to the cafe for the night, as temperatures were only climbing in the 3pm sun and things were not looking good. We said our goodbyes to them and continued on, walking about another hour and a half to our beautiful albergue, La Casa Mágica. Much to our amazement and delight, they too decided to brave the elements and we all ended up here. I’m lounging with them on the terrace as I write this, and have had the most wonderful hammock chats with Philipp about Germany, his home country, and how free he feels on the Camino having just left an unfulfilling job. He and Sofia met at breakfast one morning, having barely begun this walk. She had been baaaaaadly sunburned and was feeling a bit discouraged, and they had both planned to walk alone. Philipp was also alone, and saw that they might both benefit from some companionship, and just like that they’re taking this journey together, at least for now.  [the photo below is from yesterday during one of our many shared rests, but I’m adding it here so you can get a picture of these little peaches]. That’s just the kind of magic that happens around here. 

Holy moly, this place has been incredible. It’s so peaceful here. 

The hospitaleros take pride in being a vegetarian-friendly stop, and are famous for their veggie paella, which was UNBELIEVABLE. I sat next to a woman from England, living in Ireland, who we met in Orisson on the first night. It was so nice to see her again. Topics of discussion included childhood cancer (after explaining for the millionth time what a Child Life Specialist is... which I genuinely enjoy every time), Grace & Frankie, Noam Chomsky, the political climate in Northern Ireland, and Donald Trump. If I had a dollar for every time someone has asked me what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks is going on with politics in our country... yikes. But at least I can let them know I’m just as confused as they are. And also, I would be shocked to find someone walking the Camino who supports our current leadership. I can’t quite put into words why that is... Do with that what you will.

These communal meals (whether intentional or accidental) continue to boggle my mind. The topics of conversation are never trivial or small talk. It’s meaningful, it’s life-giving. It’s wonderful. What I thought might be at times an introvert’s nightmare has been anything but. 

Tomorrow will be a shorter walking day, about 15 kilometers. It’s so stinking hot and this next stretch is long and lacks shade and resources. We are listening to our bodies and will hopefully have a little less suffocating day in that heat. Turns out Philipp and Sofia are planning to leave the same time we are. Our trusty Camino tribe. Imagine that. 

Here’s to a new day and adventure.