Last night stretched long with birthday celebrations. My first Italian birthday party – pizza and beer in quantities big enough to feed an entire football team. Happy to do it again, but let’s leave at least a week in between so my stomach can recover.
We didn’t get to bed until 1:00, and by 6:30 we were already on the trail. Which basically means the moment we lay down, the alarm was ringing. I think each of us had our own personal orchestra of headaches this morning.
The night before, we’d promised to finish the walk to Santiago together. Today’s stage: 34 km. The morning was so cold I could have used gloves – not the chic kind, but the kind you wear to shovel snow. God tested us again with a climb as long as a Sunday sermon, never-ending. And since we were all still suffering the aftershocks of pizza and beer, enthusiasm was at rock bottom. At least the climb offered brutal detox – no herbal tea cleanse could ever compete.
That was the moment I truly wished for hiking poles. If nothing else, I could have used them as a stretcher for someone to drag me uphill.
It took 15 km before we could get our first coffee – basically Ljubljana to Domžale* again without a drop of caffeine. We walked through another burned-out area. The ground still smoked here and there, like it was enjoying one last cigarette.
At the café, we ordered ham and bread. Viktor first, me second. And guess who didn’t get food? My stomach stayed empty. So did Massimo’s. Apparently, the waitress was on a sympathy diet and we didn’t make the cut. Luckily, I had apocalypse-survival rations stashed in my backpack. Massimo too.
The walk after that went quickly. The sun was mild, shade plentiful – compared to the Camino de la Plata, this was luxury. Still, the whole day had that drowsy vibe, as if our entire crew had transformed into sloths. When we reached the albergue, we all agreed: straight to siesta.
Except… the guy at reception was moving slower than a snail on sleeping pills. At one point, I nearly yanked the pen out of his hand and said: “Here, I’ll write, you just stamp.” Otherwise, our beds would’ve been ready sometime next year.
Finally, I got my sheets, made up my bed, hit the shower, washed the stink out of my clothes and hung them up – praying they’d dry by morning, not by the next century.
The plan was to meet at 18:30 in the bar for food. But before I could collapse into bed, two hikers from Taiwan stopped me: “Do you remember us?” I stared at them blankly. “Uhh, no?” Then they reminded me – we’d met on the Camino del Norte, at that infamous albergue where I lost my bed even though I had a reservation.
I still remember calling the owner three times, explaining I was arriving after a 60 km walk. And who ended up without a bed? Of course, me. The guy offered me a couch from the prehistoric museum that stank so bad even the rats had moved out. I ended up sleeping on the floor – way more hygienic.
The Taiwanese guys had their own shock therapy there – booked two beds, got one. “No problem,” the guy said. Yeah, no problem for him! They were kind enough, though, to share a piece of cake with me when I was on the verge of a breakdown.
Now, as they told the story again, I hadn’t recognised them. But later, lying in bed, I remembered: yes, they really were there, on the left side of the room.
And just as I finally closed my eyes, someone nudged me. The Portuguese! Doing the Camino on bikes. Great they showed up, but guess who didn’t get to sleep again? Yep, me.
I went back to the Taiwanese guys and told them I finally remembered them. Invited them to join us in the bar, but they declined. Clearly, they had smarter plans – probably catching up on sleep, which I could’ve used too.
* Domžale: a town located near the Kamnik Alps and the Kamnik Bistrica River, not far from Ljubljana.
