The night before, I told Gro I’d say goodbye in the morning before I left, as I was feeling unwell, nauseous from the food, which really hadn’t agreed with my stomach. We had our own room, meaning peace and fresh air—there's nothing better than that on a journey like this.
The morning was so dark I could hardly see her. She was already up, asking me what I was looking for. I replied, “For a change, I’m looking for you, to say goodbye.” She started laughing, and we shared a long hug I wanted to hold onto. But it was time to go our separate ways. I had a long day ahead. As I’ve mentioned before, the Camino is about the people, and at the end of the day, when you’ve walked your kilometres, it’s time to socialize and have fun.
Erik was two stages behind me, Andrea and Marco one stage ahead. These are the people who intrigue me and challenge my brain. But I wasn’t looking back or waiting for Erik, so he was out of the picture. My only choice was to set off for a long walk through the “park” to catch up with Andrea and Marco, two charming Italians. The weather was cloudy, so I was determined to take advantage of it for a long walk. I walked all day, from 6 a.m. to 4 p.m., and by the end, I wasn’t even tired. In fact, I felt like I had rested during the day. That day, I realised just how much damage the sun can do to the body. When it’s scorching, I’m exhausted after 30 kilometres, but when it’s cloudy, my body feels soft, with no pain, and I don’t even sweat. I managed 50 kilometres on just 3 dcl of fruit yogurt, two bananas, and two small beers. Maybe half a liter of water. That’s it. When the heat’s on, though, you drink about 5 liters of water on the trail and eat more, because the body is working harder to cool itself down and burns more energy. As I arrived at my destination, I wasn’t tired. Quite the opposite—full of energy, ready for a good time. But when I entered the room where the boys were resting, I saw they were totally wrecked. I knew this would happen soon—after pushing your body for so long, it eventually breaks down. If not from anything else, then from the heat. Marco couldn’t even get out of bed, while Andrea’s legs were as stiff as rocks, but his smile never left his face. He was a positive guy to the end, even if he could barely move at that moment. When I arrived, we hugged. He knew I was a machine, but wasn’t sure if my feet could handle 50 kilometres. He took me for a beer, and then another, and another. We talked about the trail they’d walked the day before under the blazing sun with no shade. “You guys are tough,” I said. It was an endless stretch of wheat fields, with no end in sight, winding along a highway—probably so you could throw yourself under a car if you’d had enough of the monotony and couldn’t take it anymore. My morning was fantastic, though—I caught another amazing sunrise. The trail stretched on through endless fields. If I had met Jehovah’s Witnesses, I would have gladly chatted with them. But no, just one wide open space. When I finally saw the rooftops of houses in the distance, I felt relieved, even though there were still two hours of walking to go. The endless monotony was wearing me down, even though I love fields and peace. Finally, a contrast appeared: sunflower fields, which were a burst of life. But what can I do? My feet had 20 kilometres under their belt by 9 a.m. That’s when the Spaniards are just starting to think about their coffee. Should I end the day’s walk that early? I came here to walk and get out of my comfort zone. I understand that 20 kilometres is a lot for some people, but for me, it’s not even worth packing for Spain. Then, I might as well stay home on the couch.
Andrea is the same me in male form and you can really laugh with him. He’s sarcastic to the core. Spiritually, he seems like a 30-year-old, though he’s a young 50 and loves electronic music. He dances while walking and twists his arms just like I do. He’s on the Camino for the same reason as me—to get out of his comfort zone and meet random people because he needed something new.
At the end of the day, when we were both in high spirits, and with the best blood sausages in our stomachs, we headed back to the hostel to rest. As we lay in bed, Andrea came to me and said he was having severe knee pain. I asked if he had any painkillers or cream, and of course, he didn’t. So, I introduced him to the best pain cream, available only in “Gorenjska” pharmacies. He was overjoyed when I told him that this cream works wonders. He started massaging it in with his index and middle fingers, very delicately, like an Italian would. It was hard to watch my cream disappearing, so I asked if I could do it. I know there’s no better gesture after a week of walking than someone else massaging your legs. It’s almost orgasmic, especially when they know what they’re doing. The sounds coming from him made me ask him to quiet down, because I didn’t want the others to think he was… well, you know. He was ecstatic, and the next day he was set to walk 35 kilometres.
Before going to sleep, he showed me the Italian Camino group on Facebook, where they were apparently talking about me—how I walk fast and wear headphones but don’t greet people, and they weren’t exactly thrilled about it. Well, fuck you. I’m not here to wave at everyone. It’s like in a shopping mall, where people don’t greet each other. Some people have obviously read too many Camino books and taken it too seriously. So, I asked Andrea to take a picture of me, waving with my hand high in the air, greeting all the Italians who were upset that I hadn’t waved at them on the trail.
