Camino de Santiago Aug 29- Sept. 2

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This past week has been days of long expansive stretches of road beyond what the eye can see, clear blue skies, dry hot sun, and wheat...fields and fields of wheat.  Some people dislike these landscapes, although it´s actually pretty conforting to us Texans.  And that´s what we´ve become, ¨The Texans¨.  It´s rather entertaining to hear a Bulgarian ask if we´re cowboys back home, although we must admit, people have been pleasantly surprised at how nice we are, with we meaning, of course, Americans.  Another topic everybody likes to bring up is Bush, which again, we are associated with being from Texas, and like him or not, nobody we´ve come across has a pleasant view of our current leader (surprised?). 

The towns we walk through and stay in are virtual ghost towns, which makes us wonder, is Spain a never-ending siesta?  From what we can see, it is, which makes trying to shop for some much needed calories from 2 to 5 impossible.  Oh well, we just shrug and sit quietly and chat or read until our anticipated 5 o´clock hour approaches. 

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Blisters have become open-wounds, although Jacob´s are drying up fast, and mine still non-existant...the last one standing!  I have acquired a weird shin pain right above my ankles, exactly after two weeks of walking pain-free.  I ice every evening and by the morning I´m good to go, with the fatigue to return the next afternoon.  But we pilgrims just shrug it off now.  Everyone has some ache or discomfort.  An amazing Dutchman named Heinrick has walked the Camino from France, which is over 1000 km, twice, and this time he walked from his home in Denmark!  Crazy, crazy man.  Just yesterday, we got a message from him (text message via our Namibian friend) that after walking more than 4 months, his foot has started to hurt again.  I guess it´s just a matter of time, and a viscious cycle of pushing your body to the limits, and then resting as much as you can. 

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There´s a mysterious bug that has plagued a few people, called Chin Chins, that get in your sleeping bag and drive you mad, plus a few itching bites.  Luckily we haven´t come across them (or they haven´t come across us, rather) but Jacob looked today and has rows of little bites in various annoying places on his body.  Beward of the Chin Chins! 

One interesting event that happened while we were staying in a wonderfully clean and modern albergue in the middle of miles of dry, wheat fileds, nestled in a valley, town called Hontana:  I was sitting out side enjoying my daily (or two or three) cafe con leche when a feathery black strand floats down and lands in my cup.  Hmmm, it smells a little like smoke, I drowsily think to myself.  When a local older fellow quickly comes out and hooks up a fire hose that looks a million years old and when turned on, sprouts several leaks.  This does not bode well for anyone, I think.  Evidently there was a grass fire surrounding us!  Too tired to panic, I wait to hear the good or bad news (still with my important cafe con leche).  The fire station was called, probably about 15 km away mind you, and everything turned out nicely.  Looking back though, that probably wasn´t the safest place to be staying that particular night.

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We´ve had a variety of albergues, all with it´s unique touches.  One was run by an Argentinian family with a POOL, an oasis in the middle of a dessert.  Last night we stayed in a monastery with very nice, but also curt, nuns, none of which could have been taller than 5 feet tall.  It was very simple, but clean and peaceful for us to once in a while get away from the hustle and bustle of socializing. 

Food has become monotonous, as I think I´m part sardine at the moment.  Nothing sounds good, especially with the heat, and it´s very hard to be a vegetarian here.  The local quisine revolves around meat, bread, and yogurt with a few pieces of fruit here and there.  Rice and beans is unheard of here, which leaves vegans out of luck.  We enjoy the occasional egg and handful of nuts, but I¨m practically starving for a huge salad full of vegetables that hasn´t come from a can.  Maybe when we hit Leon, a big city, we´ll fulfill our desires for fresh roughage. 

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I¨ll leave you with a quote from our older Italian friend, named Romano, who is 69!  Ex military, and absolutely awesome who speaks Italian to everyone despite no one understanding, says, we´re all friends on the Camino.  Well spoken, and nothing could be more true for a group of folks from all around the world with the common experience of suffering for a cause.  Hasta Luego, amigos.