After a fun Saturday, Sunday showed its consequences. Since we had "overdone" it the day before, the morning felt like MC Hammer—lazy but still smiling. The view from the kitchen with Andrea spoke louder than a thousand words. To top it off, Connor decided to have his own night orchestra, and his vocal cords sang all night. It probably sounded like he was riding a dirt bike in his sleep. After breakfast, we hit the road. Naturally, I managed to get lost in the city, thinking the route just went straight out. And of course, some pilgrims followed me, thinking I knew the way since I walked like I had lived in this city for years. It was so dark that the yellow arrows were invisible, and I was too lazy to check the app to see if I was going in the right direction. When I finally realised something was wrong, I checked the app and found that I had walked nearly a kilometre in the wrong direction. The people following me weren't thrilled when they saw me turning around. "Don't follow me, especially not in the morning when my brain hamster is still in deep sleep!" I thought.
Today's stage was one I was really looking forward to, as it was the only part of the Camino I hadn’t walked in 2016. Back then, Tina and Henry advised me to go to the hospital because of foot pain. I didn’t want to go because I knew what they’d say: fewer kilometres and a few days of rest. But they insisted, so I took a taxi to the hospital. I had to pay a bit less than 100 euros for a doctor to tell me exactly what I already knew. But who can argue with professional advice? The “Gorenjc” ([1]) in me cried over those 30 kilometres and 100 euros to Hontanas, where Tina and Henry had gone that day. I, of course, arrived three hours ahead of them, and as Prešeren([2]) said, "alcohol kills all pain." So, I had no choice but to entertain myself with the local senior citizens in the village bar. They taught me how to drink wine from a special bottle. There was more wine on my shirt and on the floor than in my glass. When Tina and Henry finally arrived, I asked them how the walk was, and they were both thrilled. I felt a little regretful for asking, as I really wanted to be walking, not taking a taxi. That was then, but today, I couldn’t wait to get started and see what I had missed back then.
When I finally managed to get out of the city, sunflower fields awaited me, and suddenly I came alive. There were quite a few pilgrims on the way, and I greeted every one of them, just to avoid any bad moods on Facebook in the group 😊
In the last three kilometres, an emergency vehicle passed by, and one of the four paramedics asked if I needed water or a ride. “But I didn’t call you, and where were you in 2016 when I really needed you?” I responded. One of them spoke English, translated for the others, and they all started laughing. When your feet obey, and you treat them kindly, your sense of humour doesn't fade. The people here are truly kind; you don’t see anyone with a grumpy face. Everyone greets you warmly and wishes you a Buen Camino. Anyway, we chatted for about five minutes. I told them I wasn’t cheating and would gladly walk the last kilometres to the hostel because I felt great. We said our goodbyes. When I arrived in Hontanas, Marco was already there, and Andrea was about 2 kilometres behind me. At the bar, which also had an albergue, the whole village seemed to gather throughout the day. Sunday is the day for a fiesta. Andrea and I were both lazy and couldn’t muster the energy to shower, so we quenched our thirst because one beer just isn’t enough… So much for "no beer today." In high spirits, we headed to the hostel, which was lovely, neat, and clean. The price was 12 euros. There was so much good energy that we decided to play some music. I pulled out my JBL speaker. The age of the pilgrims at the hostel was such that it was time for '90s music. You can't go wrong with that. Smiles appeared on everyone’s faces. Some people were singing on their bunks, Andrea was jumping, dancing, and was everywhere in the hostel. I and a few others were singing in the shower. We were like happy children. I came on the Camino to have fun and remind others that the Camino shouldn’t be just about suffering. It’s an escape from the real world where you nourish your soul and reconnect with your roots.
Later, Connor came into the hostel, looking grim, as he had blisters bigger than his feet. Agony. The day before in Burgos, he had found used sneakers because his had fallen apart. He managed to find two different sneakers of the same colour. We said our goodbyes to him that day, as we decided it was best for him to take a bus to León, rest his feet, buy a pair of shoes a size larger, have a pizza for his "last supper," and we would try to catch up by Friday and continue the journey together. Connor is a Canadian who doesn’t speak French. A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.
That day, we were joined by a new pilgrim named Lucca, who came from Sardinia.
[1] Gorenjc – inhabitant of Gorenjska (upper Carniola)
[2] France Prešeren - today he is considered the greatest Slovenian poet, having written the Slovenian anthem, Zdravljica.
