Day Twelve: Slow & Steady

We are back to half days. Even with my rest from busing into Logrono, I ended up walking half the city. I spent the afternoon with Brenda and Gil eating churros with chocolate, exploring beautiful churches and cathedrals and finally purchased my lifesavers- bastones (walking poles). I did all this while waiting for Cameron to arrive from his extra long walking day- which he had a blast doing thanks to new farmer friends from South Carolina. Wish I could have met them! They flew home once they arrived in Logrono.

Anyways, back to why we are walking a half day once again- all that city walking I did aggravated my knee all over again. We made our way as far as we could yesterday and stayed in an adorable hotel in the small wine village, Ventosa. What made this an extra memorable experience was that Brenda and Gil stayed there too and we were the only guests at the inn. The hotel owners made a beautiful dinner for us- the best yet! Fresh salad, spaghetti bolognese, strawberries and cream- and obviously wine. We slept like kings that evening.

The next morning we slept in and on our way out the door, the owner of the hotel gave me a dose of pain meds. That should get me to Santo Domigo- I was sure of it! Most of our walk was through vineyards with amazing snow capped mountain views. The path was largely red clay, which also supports in long treks.

I'm sad to report that we only made it to Azofra- only about 9km away from Santo Domingo. So. Frustrating. Two squirrelly and rapid fire Spanish women walked us to the albergue. Insert profanities here. Not only was I a bit cranky because of my chronic bum knee, but THIS is where I am going to sleep?!

I'll paint the picture. Tiny town. Dirt roads. At the very end of a narrow path on the outskirts of town is a small shed of a building. It's unlocked, as always. Upon entry is a picnic table, a bench and a self service credential stamp table. A second door. Through which is a narrow, dark and what feels like an abandoned hallway. On the right is a small box to catch what I can only assume are night critters. Or murders. No one is there. Just us and my bum knee.

I'm sure you can imagine what happens next. Out we go back to the only open cafe in the miserable town. We are NOT staying here.

Luckily for us, I really mean me, we recognize a lone pilgrim- Vincente. He is the man that has nicknamed me knee girl- I guess he had heard of the girl who takes drugs to make it through the camino. Could be worse I suppose...

Anyways, Vincente had some swollen toes and opted to bus to Santo Domingo. We decided to join to get the h-e-double hockey sticks out of this town. Vincente is from Valencia and speaks practically zero English. We sipped coffees, beers and coca colas with him for hours as we waited for the bus.

I have to say- this at first seemingly annoying day on the camino quickly became one of our favorite afternoons. Because of Vincente's limited English, we both we able to practice our Spanish with comfort and what sometimes felt like ease. We discussed food, movies, best places in spain and even motorcycling down route-66. One of his dreams.

We arrived in Santo Domingo after 8pm that evening, shared a pilgrim meal together, had more laughs and retired to a room with 30 other smelly, snoring and naked pilgrims. I guess you could say this albergue wasn't much better than the last I refused to stay at. But this had one key difference- we were with friends. Our pilgrim family.