There are inexplicable situations that happen I believe only when you are in peace with yourself and willing to open to the outer world.

This morning I started early as I wanted to test my leg over a longer distance. So at 6, I pushed me out of the Albergue. I still do not understand why some other people need hours to get ready in the morning. The usual subdued noise on the dormitory, but still noise by all means, started at about 5, and at 6 still everyone was moving around like zombies, between the bed, the washrooms and makeshift kitchen trying to prepare breakfast with horrible coffee and stale biscuits. Besides the lower extremities, food poisoning or in general stomach ache, is what pilgrims complain about the most. For sure avoiding to have breakfast in municipal hostels, is the first precaution for an enduring well being. Actually after all this while, even the menu de los peregrinos at dinner, it’s getting a bit boring with too much food with little variety and  lot of bread. Sorry for digression.

I take normally 15′ to get ready having prepared the backpack the night before. Just need to meditate a little on the bowl, wash hands and face, brush the teeth, fold the sheet liner, hang the scallop shell to the backpack, tie the shoes and I am ready.

If the skies are clear as there were this morning, the solace of being surrounded by such field of stars, is beating all back thoughts of a bit more sleep. Compostela is deriving its name from campus stellae, i.e field of stars, and ancient pilgrims were able to orientate themselves at night following the Milky Way.

My headlight was projecting a small cone of light on the gravel road. All the rest was silent, magic, and mysterious. All of a sudden, I heard some little steps behind me, and fearing the worse, I turned immediately, flooding with light a small Korean lady that trailed me respectfully three steps behind. She had no light and was trying to walk in my shadow to share the light. I offered her to walk in front of me instead, so that she could see better any obstacles or loose stones on the road. She shyly agreed and we almost found out immediately that we had no common language to communicate extensively. We walked in this fashion and in total silence until day break almost 1.5 hours later. Once at the top of what I think was a Meseta, she turned and indicating the stars, she named a few of them using the Latin name. That was quite odd but I was nonetheless pleased with exchange. Much later, at a picnic area, she came to me smiling thankfully and offering me an apple. I was so touched by this simple gesture and the rest of the day continued in a different light. Her name is Kwan Hae Sook.

At Itero de la Vega, an Albergue managed by an Italian fraternity was another special encounter. The simple and high spiritual place is hosted in an hermitage, and has no electricity or running water. The guests are given candles and the simple dinner is also shared in the main church hallway.

The meseta landscape is feared by most as being barren, inhabited or with scarce villages. However it has a sort of natural dignity and so far the most inducive to enable meditation while walking alone. Contrary to what it seems, it looks as this desolate land cultivated mostly as wheatfields and sunflowers (unfortunately all dried up already), is connected to an universal and ethernal wisdom. Having accepted to slow down to a lower pace, I found out a new connection between my breathing cycles, the gust of the wind sweeping the land incessantly, and the pace. All this is harmony and sheer happiness. I keep torturing my middle fingers to continue the esoteric healing process and I am at peace.

An unknown hand wrote: “Love is the way; the Way is love”. Today I finally believe I can understand it’s meaning.

I woke up all of a sudden, with my unconscious self reminding me to take the pills at 6am. The leg was a bit stiff but somewhat more manageable. The affected area was also cooler at the touch. Well relieved I went forward to activate plan B, which was to take a cab to about midway through and walk the remaining 10km or so. Plan A was to walk all the way, and Plan C to call it a quit.

In Burgos, Maria Luisa from Seville told me: “There is no race, no prize to be won, find your own pace and do not be affected by the pace of others. The right people to keep you company are the ones that will show up again during the Camino, not the ones you want to emulate.”

I treasured the advice, and managed to walk with a renewed purpose and made it to Castrojeriz, with no significant issues.

The key issue is to reach the destination before 2 pm at the latest, failing which you may need to confront a “full house” sign. This explains the urgency of the early risers to have enough time to make it with no delays. In different circumstances I’d rather to ditch the plan, and stop for the night wherever I am by 2pm. Noted for my next Camino adventure.

I will post pictures from this stage the next time hoping on a more reliable network connection. Hasta la vista, compañeros!

Surely not a wasted day. There is so much to see and to do in Burgos, that the day was gone in a whiff. Keynote activities were the quest for a decent breakfast in a location kissed by the morning sun and a wifi hotspot with a decent bandwidth. The main tourist areas are provided with free Wi-Fi connections (you need to register though) but with such a tiny flow of bandwidth that only competes with the even tinier water flow of the showers in some Albergue. To finish up a 5′ Skype conversation with my wife, it took more than 30′ where most of the exchanges were: “Hello, can you hear me, can you hear me?”. Anyway not a major issue all things added up (literal translation into English of the Italian expression: tutto sommato). I had to check out the Albergue at 8am, leave the backpack there, and to check in again at noon. So I had 4 hours to kill and apart from the breakfast and the various fragments of Skype calls, I decided to pay a respectful guided visit to the gothic cathedral.

The visit costs euro 7, one third of my daily allowance,  but surely was worth of it. Apart from hosting the remains of “El Cid Campeador”, knight and hero of Burgos who was instrumental in the war against the Ottoman Empire in the eleventh century, it also hosts incredible artistic masterpieces. Three hours were absorbed easily in touring the massive cathedral with two cloisters and incredible architectural hazards. It was build to rival the French gothic cathedrals of Reims, Amiens and Paris, and master gothic architects from Colon were invited to grant Spain with a place of honor among the other European cities if the Holy Roman Empire.

At the end of the visit, the time was just  ready for the check-in at the albergue. Already a long line was forming of the anxious pilgrims that left the previous starting point at 5am in fear of not finding a place to sleep. By right the albergues open at noon and by 3pm in best cases are already full. This one in particular can host 460 people, and this will give an idea of the enormous influx of pilgrims even in this relative low seasonal part of the year. Anyway after about one hour I managed to settle down in my new small quarter for the night.

It is incredible how talking about feet and related parts is the key subject of conversation with other pilgrims. With no modesty, everyone seems quite proud to take off the socks and enumerate the blisters, calluses and other amenities of that sort. Even more incredible is the level of attention received by the occasional listener, who in turn also takes off his or her own socks and compares the gravity of the injuries. Quite common is also the distribution of wisdom in terms of most appropriate remedies, such as self inflicting a pain below the middle finger nail, to help out the pain on the feet (this one is also mentioned in Coelho’s Pilgrimage book) or blocking the blood circulation also on the middle finger with a tight rubber band. It seems that most issues are connected the middle finger! To my particular case, my audience nodded in consensus to a suggestion from a Danish lady, reassuring me that I should have wrapped the leg with fresh green leaves to suck off the infection. Honestly this last remedy I did not try, but I had some good time with the middle finger.

One way or another, the heat in the affected areas has cooled down quite significantly (miracolusly ?) and I feel confident of restarting tomorrow with a short walk of 10 km. I will take a cab to take me midway to the next destination. I am sure that on the occurrence also medieval pilgrims would have climbed on an oxen cart…..

The walk from St.Juan started with all sort of good feelings, which in reality were mostly a representation of my desire than of reality.

As usual, when I woke up at 6am, half of the dormitory was half gone already and the other half (except me of course) was busy with packing and repacking their belongings. I thought of  indulge in some laziness and let everybody out to enjoy the luxury of the toilet for me only. Also I wanted to rest as long as possible to ensure that the pain in the leg could soften. With my surprise, it felt very good and strong. Just a small hint of pain in certain foot twists, but I ingnored it believing that I could just proceed avoiding that particular movements. That was the first delusion.

The second was the outdoors temperature, which was highly overestimated. The dormitory was indeed quite cold, but given the previous glorious afternoon sunshine, I expected something like 13 degrees. When I finally packed and stepped outside at about 7:30am, the thermometer on the Albergue’s wall indicated 3 degrees! I was totally ignoring that St.Juan is 1080 meters high! The stars were bright in the clear morning air and giving a certain solemnity in leaving that tiny conglomerate of human dwellings along the road into the pitch dark. Given that Spain is on the same time zone as Central Europe, the sun rises this time of the year at 8:30am and the benefic warm rays do not become such before 9:45, at least at that altitude.

Maybe, in the effort to generate some internal heat, I may have accelerated the pace over the guard level, and by reaching Atapuerca, some 8 km past St.Juan, I sensed that the leg pain was far than healed but still quite bearable.

Is worth to mention that Atapuerca is the site of quite remarkable anthropological findings, where the ancestors of prehistoric settlements of humanoids were discovered and now is filed as an UNESCO site. The remains date over 90,000 years ago, and have ascertained that those early European ancestors, were cannibals. This may explain why it took so long and endless wars, for Europe to become an united entity, and to some respects, we are not there yet.

Longing for a breakfast stop, I entered in one of the many pilgrims’ bar y tenda along the way. Tenda stays for grocery shop, where I bought a bocadillo (sandwich), tomatoes and a peach, my usual diet for lunch.

With a refill of energy fuel I reached after a short while the summit of the Cruceiro, where I left thanksgiving stones in memory of my parents and also for my in-laws for having given life to my beloved wife. Nearby, as a contribution to a spiral-shaped spontaneous giant sculpture, I also left down a few well-wishing stones for some of my friends.

The city of Burgos appeared in the distance with its relevant contribution of noise and pollution.

After a short while, the leg started burning internally very intensely and I had to reduce the speed considerably. The approach to Burgos is endless and very tedious and to make it more pleasant I chose the approach via the river.

For the last 7km, I was in agony and very concerned on the reason of the pain. The ankle and the lower right leg was now visibly swollen in comparison.

Once arrived in the Albergue, I managed to take a shower, wash my laundry with the help of Maria from Andorra, and than hop on a taxi to the nearest medical center.

Thanks God, I took with me the Italian Health Card that covers emergencies in the whole Europe territory.

In less than half hour, and without spending an Euro cent,  I have been visited and diagnosed with a tendinitis and inflammation of the nearby tissues. Prognosis: medications for 8 days and 3 days of rest!

Take it easy, I said to myself and decided to be reasonable and stay in Burgos one more day. Tomorrow will check any improvement and eventually decide what to do.

Just a brief update to inform that I am stuck in Burgos, since my leg infection got worse and I had to see a doctor. He prescribed medicines (anti-bio and anti-inflammatories) and three days of rest. I am a bit concerned about my frailty, but I have no choice than accept and try to figure out what is the positive impact from this circumstance.

Actually Burgos is a magnificent city and I can take some rest from the soaking in of the superbe Castilla landscape, and visit the city instead. Burgos was the capital is Spain during the Civil War in 1936-1939 under the Generalissimo Franco, and is filled up with monuments, gothic churches, castles and fine buildings. The city center is only pedestrian and is very alive with elegant people, crowding the many bars and restaurants all over.

After a night of rain, I was preparing to an early start dressed up in a poncho. Thanks to some powerful intervention, while I was finishing breakfast, the rain stopped abruptly and was replaced by a strong cold wind coming from NE. I wore all the warm clothes I had along, and started at about 7:40. Today I took some pictures of what I mean when I call the landscape as endless farmland.

All around me were still unfamiliar faces, situation that was likely aggravated by the fact that I slept in hotel for two nights in a row, and hence missing the opportunity to familiarize with other pilgrims in the hostels. Despite the pain in the leg is still quite excruciating, I decided to spend the next night at the St. Juan de Ortega Albergue. Along the way I met Gaurav, an Indian guy living in Milan due to an university fellowship program, a very reserved Canadian lady, reminding me of a literature professor and a huge Australian with over 1.5m pace span. Apart from these brief encounters, it was another day of reflection spent in almost total loneliness. At the beginning I saw a guy with a little dog, whose enthusiastic jumping all around, with no worries whatsoever, was really contagious. This episode allows me to remember other guys and girls with dogs: Dirk with the dog Einstein, Christine with the dog Cariñho, and another guy with a big shepherds’ dog. Then can walk the Camino with their pet, but mist Albergues do not take dogs, so most of times they have to sleep in tents, and also carrying with them the food and needs for their animals. Christine, a slim figure, was carrying 17 kg but was it complaining that much.

Finally I managed to see Florence  who’s travelling during the night with her white horse, whose poo I noticed almost everywhere during the previous stages.

Finally, 2-3 km before the chosen destination, the clouds broke clear.

St. Juan is s gem of a place, that was worth the day to get there.

The albergue is hosted in the old monastery and can accomodate at least 75 pilgrims in three large rooms situated around the cloister.

I attended the pilgrim’s’ mass at 6 pm with the blessing from the tomb of the Saint, who lived around year 1100 and helped the maintenance of the Camino for the welfare of the pilgrims. The dinner at the local Locanda was not remarkable: pretty much salad, a tuna pie, and either cheese or morcillas (sort of rice, and fried pork meat, rolled in a sort of sausage with pork blood)

A day of atonement and reflection. I started at 8:30am, a bit worried for the persisted pain on the right leg. A couple I met the night before suggested me to take sodium hydrocarbonate to reduce the swelling due to accumulation of lactic acid in the muscles. I did not have it with me but I used Alka Seltzer instead and I was surprised to feel graduallly all the aching joints to recover promptly. However the leg was still quite painful but I decided to give it a start anyway at a much slower pace. Actually I felt somewhat relieved to accept my limitations with no urge to be on par with anyone else. Today was in facts the first time I completed the stage without a walking companion since I joined the Camino Frances in St. Jean.

I noticed how the mood of the other pilgrims changed quite substantially since the early days in St. Jean. Then there was plenty of excitement, with a genuine drive to make new friends. Responses to greetings along the road were more open and curious to share personal stories. Now, one week later and some 235 km on the legs, the former group I started with has vanished in the infinite hilly farmlands. The occasional people along the road are all strangers, almost hostile, cutting short comments and jokes. Everyone seems folded on their own purposes perhaps already committed to the inner Camino journey. Along the road today I had just a brief encounter with a mother and daughter from Boston, and a brother and sister from Colorado. No handshakes, no promises for a drink together at the common destination for the day. Now it’s 8:20pm and I am sitting outside at a bar in the Plaza Mayor of this small town, but there is no searching among pilgrims. Everyone seems to rush to buy groceries for tomorrow’s stage, and then disappear in their hostels. The small town is slowly repossessed by the locals who are preparing for their usual dinner at 9pm.

I am going to follow suit. Instead of the usual pilgrim’s menu, I opt for a plate of pinchos and a glass of red wine. I have yet to go to the Pharmacy to buy an industrial supply of Alka Seltzer, and find an hotspot to upload the blog update.

No pictures today apart a sign indicating the entry in the Castilla y Leon province, the largest in Spain.

The wheater has been cool the whole day and with thick clouds limiting the interest in capturing shots of the quite monotonous rural landscape. I took also the opportunity to visit a local peluqueria (barber shop) where Miguel the master barber trimmed my beard to an acceptable level.

In retrospective, one of the worst days so far. In part due to the road, which crosses vineyards and wheatfields, with practically no shelter from the heat. The same road which has been diverted from his original layout and now is either paved or dusty in proximity of highways and partly near construction sites. The villages are scarce and unremarkable. The worst of all is this Cirueña where a massive and horrible housing development near a golf course is constraining the Camino walkway in the midst of deserted homes, like a cemetery of empty shells: not a sign of life, not a chatter of children, only infinite housing estates with sales ads fluttering in the gusts of the wind. For being the Camino a UNESCO heritage, there is very little that has been done to restore it to the original track.

The tentative idea to build a spare day by stretching the stages beyond the guidebook suggestions, it’s coming at a general body fatigue that the precarious nights in the hostels cannot recover.

The experience in sleeping at hostels is generally quite good and cheap. There are plenty of chances to meet new pilgrims and debate on Camino topics while we wait the washing machine or the dryer to finish their cycle. In some private hostels in the villages, the dinner is a common affair and all together we eat the day menu usually in good spirit and a good mood. If the sleeping quarters are organized in modern structures, usually each user has a reserved locker space linked to the bed number and the life in the dormitory can be comfortable. The problems start where the education of some people end, particularly so in old establishments where the common space in not organized and is there for anyone to seize it.
Some people take long time to take out everything from their backpacks occupying all the available common space, and then wander through the dormitory with no apparent business to do. Others pack furiously in the night once they decide to leave at 5am, taking particular enjoyment in pulling zips on and off or chafing with the grocery bags. Fortunately, most people leave quietly at around 630am after having prepared all their belongings the night before. In any case without ear plugs or sleeping shades, there is no even the slimmest chance to gain some sleep. I have seen some guys hiding their ear plugs in their underpants while sleeping on fear of being robbed of the precious stuff. Otherwise you happen to be in the first row of an incredible bassoon and trombone concert, with some fine motif played on the piccolo.

The last incident of the day had been the insurgence of an acute pain on both the lower leg fronts. According to Mario these were cramps, and offered one of his creams to reduce the pain and continue to walk. The “cramps” were my faithful companions for more than half of the day trip forcing me to slow down and stop frequently. I therefore announced to check in at an hotel in Santo Domingo and take it very easy tomorrow. So I did, and filled up the bathtub with hot water and foam, and slowly I simmered into the comfort. I slept in the bath tub for one solid hour and then I rushed to the Pharmacy to buy a tube of anti-inflamatory cream to continue to cure my painful legs.
I met Mario in the main square and informed him that tomorrow I will go solo. He is a good little man and was very concerned since he speaks only Italian with the thick accent of the northern valleys and was quite well supported by my presence. We exchanged our addresses and we hugged each other.

Actually, and I am very sorry to say this, my fellow countrymen are the worst socially developed people. Since they speak no other languages forces me to tag along to other Italians and to hear all the complaints, etc. whereas I’d like to join the other multi ethnic tables and have a bit more varied conversation. With tonight no more Italians, possibly. Exceptions only for lonely 30 years old females…

As this is was expected to be a long stage with temperatures rising to the 30 Deg +, with my new occasional partner Mario from the Seriana valley, we decided to start quite early. He woke me up at 5:45 and by 6:15 we hit the road wearing our head lights. For a good hour we walked in the pitch dark under a canopy of stars. Then the day broke showing off an extraordinary color palette.

My new partner Mario is a very reserved person, religious and very humble. I enjoy to watch him opening up to this new improbable relationship. As the kilometers unfold, he’s telling me about his family, his habits and his very simple life. In no other place I could have had the chance to share my thoughts and my life with this person. I am very grateful of this opportunity.

My influence can be dangerous for him, since the first time I met him he was never eating or drinking anything else than what he carried in his backpack. Slowly I convinced him to have breakfast in some flamboyant pastry cafes, or even dining at a tapas bar.

This in particular is worth to mention. It is in Navarrete, the place where we are spending the night, and is managed by an Italian guy. The choice of tapas is irresistible: so what can be better than a cold beer and a selection if yummy tapas from Antonio?

If any of you happen to be in Navarrete, do not miss to visit Antonio at his Bar Deportivo (941-441-065). I forgot to mention that as we entered the city of Logroño, we enteted also the province of Rioja, home of excellent wines and very warm people.

After a short prayer of thanks for the day and its treasure of secrets and discoveries, in the magnificent cathedral of Navarrete

we headed back to Antonio for the dinner menu, where he surprised us with a specialty made of sweet Navarra peppers filled with baccalao (cured cod fish) and olives, with rice milk in a dark calamari sauce. Divine.

The price still in accordance to the pilgrim’s dish menu (12 euro).

Today I changed walking partner. Deb has expressed the intention of doing meditation along the walk and hence to continue solo. On the other hand I do not mid stretching the stages a bit more and to build some time pad wrt the planned itinerary. So we hugged at a road junction, and thanked each other for the good company and support we enjoyed that far and we split ways.

Another day of great sunshine, and hot temperature as I proceeded in a almost inhabited farmlands. The road climbed to an advantage position from where I had a good vision of the surroundings. I believe I reached total happiness in being part of such beauty.

Along the way I shared some impression with Chris and Frank from California and also with another gentleman from Scotland. Anyway I did not want to compromise my solitary walk and I increased the pace ahead of the small group.

There are many solitary walkers along the Camino. Frank once was showing a paper sheet with the words: “Silent Day” in response to anyone prompting him with the usual greetings. So in general one should be quite careful in approaching others as they may not appreciate excessive familiarity. However, it is a bit disappointing to notice that apart from a few exceptions, most people on the Camino have mundane purposes. Either they consider this just as a vacation, or a gastronomical adventure, or even a odd experience of hostel living maybe just for a few day before reverting to the usual 5 stars hotels. Some have luggage transfer arrangements, some cut short some lengthy portions of the walk taking cabs in between destinations. The credential stamp can be obtained almost anywhere: from churches, restaurants, bars and even aunties selling peaches along the road. So the pilgrim’s passport can be filled up by many stamps regardless whether all the stopovers have been genuinely walked through with sweat and pain.

Even the Camino cannot remain immune from consumerization. The whole phenomenon is a massive attraction fair to bring more and more people to spend money in the Spanish regions cut through by the Camino. Most sections that can be flooded have been paved in concrete slabs and steepest climbs have been facilitated with stairways and hand rails. The concept is to spread out the concept that everyone can do it. The Spanish road admin has even built a highway on the Camino layout. The footpath has been then rerouted alongside the highway totally vanishing the spiritual purpose of the journey with high traffic noise level and pollution.