Burgos into the Wild Meseta

It was the longest and slowest of slogs into Burgos. Almost ten kilometers of industrial parks, highway interchanges and car dealerships. A true concrete jungle. It was definitely the ugliest and most draining section of the Camino so far, totally devoid of charm and nature to motivate our walking spirit. That morning, our twelfth on the Way, we started in the dark, guided by the artificial sunrise in the west that was the ambient light of Burgos. Up and over a long hill, it is no small miracle I didn't twist an ankle on the thousands of loose rocks that fell underfoot. In the shadow of Kelsey's headlamp, I vowed to never again leave an albergue without my headlamp easily accessible. The beautiful weather that has graced me with a wicked farmers tan was gone as we set out from Ages, and we used our packas (rainjacket and backpack cover in one) for the first time since our first day going over the Pyrenees.  

Upon entering the old town of Burgos though, your jaw can't help but drop. Dominating the old town is the massive Cathedral de Santa Maria, it's spires reaching delicately towards the overcast sky. Plazas, winding streets, arches are all adorned by flowers, fountains and cafes. I can see why so many pilgrims are taking a rest day here, the architectural intricacy of the cathedrals alone could keep you entertained all day. Arriving before noon, we hoped to beat the rush and secure our beds at the Divinia Pastora albergue. It had only 18 spaces and promised a more intimate albergue experience. Steps from the albergue, an American pilgrim told us that it was already full. Ahhhh! Burgos is a popular starting point for El Camino, and we couldn't help but think that Divinia Pastora must be full of eager new pilgrims. We maneuvered up the grand steps behind the cathedral and made our way to the Municipal Albergue, and joined the queue of waiting pilgrims for the noon opening. 

Six stories of dormitories, this was a modern, gigantic albergue deceptively accessed through an offset arched doorway. After our obligatory chores, we set out to meet with two American friends of Kelsey who live in Burgos. They took us to a cafe where I had the second best hot chocolate of my life. I am not exaggerating when I say it was literally melted milk chocolate in a cup. After the cold, rainy day of walking, it was liquid heaven. Unfortunately our visit with Kelsey's friends was short, and we were on our own wandering the city, picking up fruit and bread for the next day. Before departing though, they gave us the best restaurant recommendation conceivable. Walking into Valor, chocolate filled our senses. We requested the Spanish chocolatier's signature treat of  churros dipped in hot chocolate. Hands down, this takes the trophy for best hot chocolate of my life. Holy man, it was out of control. I intend to eat this at least three more times in Spain. 

Later, we ran into my long lost friend John, and I had an absolutely wonderful conversation with him. He is staying an extra day in Burgos, and I am surprised at how sad I am that I may not see him again. As Dave said to me, a week knowing someone on the Camino is the equivalent of knowing them for two years in normal life. Even more, Jesus, my correo savior is also returning home, and I will very much miss his gentle voice and broad smile. He very seriously assured me that we would one day see each again, and with a customary double cheek kiss, I am saying goodbye to another Camino friend. 

But when friends exit, new ones arrive. I met beautiful Anat and Tom, from Israel, and they told me of a walk across Israel, from North to South. So...that's happening. And I now have two new friends in Tel Aviv when I arrive later in the Spring. 

In the evening, Pepe, Tomas, Tobias, two German girls Rachel and Teresa, Kelsey and I wandered the streets of Burgos, until it became apparent that typical of a large group, no one wanted to make a decision on dinner. Boldly, I suggested pizza, and so it was. A large veggie pizza to top off a day of city eating.

This was an important meal for me. I had created a mini drama in my head, as cliques seem to be forming along the Way. I suppose this is natural, as we are logically divided by language, age and nationality. It seemed ridiculous, and not in keeping with my idealistic version of the Camino that we would form cliques, inclusion and exclusion, and I had somewhat blown it out of proportion. Kelsey listened to my gripes walking the streets before, alternating between the humor of the "Camino catwalk," where we seem to be checking each other out all the time, to disappointment in pilgrim's behavior. It seemed the only people removed from this silliness were couples and elder pilgrims. But the Burgos dinner set me right. People are people, and each have their own attractions. I have not yet met a malicious person on the Camino, so any perceived slight is simply a barrier that needs to be broken down. I am already making such amazing connections with an unbelievable number of people, I am continually amazed at how easy it is to talk to people if you are just open to it. I came into the Camino free and light, and I can say I have engaged most every person I have come across. I had always thought of myself as a little bit introverted, but I have realized I am very much my parents daughter, and I am here embracing every bit of my extroverted-ness. 

A serendipitous self-portrait.

Setting a new record of bed to ready in less than 30 minutes, Kelsey and I set out from Burgos at 6:30, traversing a much easier exit than entrance from the city. We were entering the much lamented Meseta and Tierra de Campos (Land of Fields), an area of Spain comprised of plains and plateaus. I found it stunning. 

There has been a dramatic shift in the temperature to accompany the scenery change, and you could hear the whistle of the wind throughout the day. Descending into the one calle town of Hornillos del Camino, we made one turn through the modest plaza to the Albergue Municipal. Alas, there was no hot water, stove or wifi, but as the sign proclaimed in the albergue in Burgos: "Tourists demand. Pilgrims thank." The seemingly purposeful quiet of Hornillos, in stark contrast to Burgos, seemed designed to afford more time for quiet thought. As I write this section, I am sitting in the very still, high ceilinged church, where in its cool calm, I am encouraged to close my eyes and let my energy flow.  

Hornillos and its only distinguishing feature.

Later on...

I now understand why the Meseta is a bit lamented. It is not due to the scenery which is magnificent, where there is a sensation of walking on the oceans floor, fields rolling away in the distance into plateaus. Your eyes are afforded the luxury of seeing as far as they can see. No, it is because of the desolation and isolation, the towns quiet and set far apart, that the Meseta is rushed through by  many pilgrims. After wandering the one street, exploring ancient ruined buildings, and reading over 100 pages in my book, it was still only 5 pm in Hornillo. Somehow, we made it to 8, then promptly passed out with the intention of a long walk the next day. 

Waking at 5, we walked through the open darkness of the Meseta for two hours waiting for the sunrise on the misty morning. Descending into the town of Hontanas (for those planning on doing El Camino, I would recommend staying here vice Hornillos the day after Burgos) we had a rejuvenating tortilla and cafe con leche. Kelsey and I have figured out our clockwork, we need a semi-meal every 2.5 hours to keep our energy levels high. With this in mind we had our longest, most champion day yet. We walked for 11 hours, and covered a distance of 39.4 km. In doing so, we put ourselves almost an entire day ahead, allowing for a rest day along the Way, maybe in Leon. The scenery was so majestic, we compared it to the plains in the U.S., Oz, Fantasia (from the NeverEnding Story), and an ocean. 

Passing through Castrojeriz and Itero de Vegas, from fields of hay, up and over a plateau, through fields of lettuce, corn and decapitated sunflowers, we arrived at the beautiful albergue in Boadilla.

Up and over a plateau.

What a stark difference from the albergue in Hornillos (which was so grungy, that I woke up in the night and it smelled like a ham Lunchable). 

Albuerge En El Camino in Boadilla.

Deservedly tired and a little sore from our marathon walk today, we settled into the comfort of the albergue, passing our evening with the knowledge that each day we are letting go, walking further and accomplishing something truly wonderful.

Slowly but Surely Setting Free

I suppose it may have been bound to happen, life after all is like the Camino, mountains and valleys, easy and hard. Kelsey and I had our first disagreement, the first challenge to our new and natural friendship. Walking out of Santo Domingo, the morning after our disagreement, we both felt the weight of this small rift. This was stressful and unexpected. Should we walk this day on our own? We're we going to be cordial but distant from here on out? How much had we learned on the Camino, was our discussions on humility and human wakefulness just words, or could we actually put lessons into action? Walking quietly through the fledgling day, we did take time apart. For the first time in our 10 days of walking, we walked alone or with other pilgrims more than each other throughout the day. And such, we gained clarity throughout the day. This was yet again, a lesson in pride and ego. Why is it so hard to communicate a hurt, but so easy to need vindication and "be in the right." Really our mini-argument was silly and a miscommunication more than anything, but such things have ruined many a relationship between all types of people. And as quickly as it came on, we moved on. Sitting in a cafe upon arriving in Belorado, after a relatively short 22 km day, we simply spoke to each other. No anger or blame, just an expression of thought. I am not sure if it could have been so easy in years past, but the result is that our friendship gained a whole new dimension of closeness and respect. This is the Camino and there are lessons abound. 

Friends who walk together, stay together.

Each day I am feeling physically stronger. The rebound ability of the human body is something quite miraculous. Today, walking from Belorado to Ages, I was sans knee brace and my morning dose of ibuprofen. Furthermore, Kelsey and I walked beyond the recommended stopping point in our book, and got ourselves 3.6 km closer to Burgos feeling nothing but a steady flow of energy the entire distance. Despite the initial doubts and relatively slow pace compared to other pilgrims, we are adapting to El Camino and its physical challenge. 

Belorado is in the same charming vein of many of our small town stops along El Camino. We stayed in the albergue Cautro Cantones, complete with a swimming pool and more queen sized bunk beds. After a mid-afternoon snack of tortilla and cafe con leche, we decided a pilgrim's meal would have been too indulgent. Instead, I decided to return to my camping and college day roots and go hobo. A can of beans it is! Cheap, nutritious, fibrous and requiring zero preparation, beans are sometimes just what you need. 

One of the most disgusting sights on this trip: a meat vending machine.

Following my plateful of lukewarm beans (I've come a long way since my fine dining habits in the U.S.) I took a stroll around town. Walking into an old, birds-nest adorned Church, I found myself completely alone in the place of worship. Imagine a place of absolute silence. No static or background noise, no voices or footsteps. Just total silence. The Church was flooded in natural light, domes rising steeply overheard, panels of wood ending in single rounded points. I sat in the front pew, scarcely breathing to preserve the total quiet, looked over by statues of Saints. This sort of solitude invariably comes to an end too quickly, and it was only a few minutes later that I heard the creak of the floors as other pilgrims walked in. What a wonderful, and not often realized, experience.

A place of quiet.

Getting ready for bed, a solid hour before other pilgrims (this enables our early wake up), Kelsey and I confronted what is possibly the number one enemy of the modern pilgrim. Bedbugs. Dramatically, we start looking up bedbug images on our phone, reading about its disgusting biting and mating procedures, and overall working ourselves (well really, it was mostly me worked up) in to quite a state about the "bedbug". I even used my phone to zoom in on it, studying its lazy zigzag progression along the wall for the better part of 20 minutes. Finally we determined that we would bet on it not being a bedbug, mostly to avoid the awkwardness of stealing away in the coming night past all the other relaxing pilgrims. I took a 25mg Atarax (an anti-histamine) to induce a deep sleep, wore two layers of turtlenecks, my long spandex pants, socks, and pulled my sleeping bag around my face so I resembled an Eskimo. I am going to diligently examine myself for bites for the next few days and hope for the best. Gross.

A donkey! A hint of things to come in Nepal.

Our scenery went through another shift today. As much as yesterday was exposed and yellow, today was green and shaded, topped off with fields of sad sunflowers.

Downward facing sunflower.

Stopping for our tortilla (I am going on an egg strike tomorrow in the interest of preserving my healthy cholesterol levels) and cafe con leche, we received a lesson in the Camino from a man at the cafe. Reciting in Spanish numerous Camino poems, the history of the town Villafranca and its 9th century harboring of pilgrims, the importance of all relevant monuments in the surrounding areas and his own experiences walking the Camino 5 times, he could have kept us there all day. So insistent was he, that anytime I broke eye contact with him, he would give me an exaggerated tap on the shoulder. With pregnant pauses, large flourishes of his hands, and deep elongated rolling of all of his "r's" it was a one sided conversation of much emotion. We managed to break away 30 minutes later, much to his disappointment, but we had to keep our own pilgrimage moving.

We arrived early and strong after a 28 km day to Ages. It was a beautiful entrance into the town, fields of yellow sunflowers, rising up from the cluster of red rooftops. 

Walking into Ages.

Sitting in the airy Municipal Albergue, we relaxed into the albergue settling procedures as some of the first people to arrive. Slowly all of our friends started to trickle in. Jorge, Dave, Pepe, and so many more. We have picked up a lot of new pilgrims since Logrono. And in turn, many have had to return home, like the sweet German couple Oliver and Stephy. It is sad to know you will never see these Camino companions again, but such is the Way. As you must only complete the final 100 km of the Camino by foot to receive the Compostela, I imagine we will see more and more new faces. At this point, Keksey and I feel a little like El Camino 2013 veterans. Just today we set a new record of bed to walk in 45 minutes. "Slowly but surely" as we have been teaching our Spanish friends.

Wandering around town as the sun began to set, we followed an arrow leading us behind the Church. And oh! What we would find! A garden of pilgrim's origami cranes. Painted in all beautiful shades and designs. As we free the paper from a cage, we change it into a bird to set free. That's Camino symbolism for you. Of course I had to make one alongside Tomas, really figuring it out by luck, as the directions were lacking a bit.

My ave.

Following our arts and craft, Tomas offered to teach me some yoga sun salutation variations (fortunately Kate has shown me the basics so I wasn't totally out of my element). Under the watchful gaze of a 93 year old Spanish Señora, I practiced yoga for about 15 minutes before my walking soreness drove me towards a cafe and a croissant. 

What a beautiful, successful day. Burgos and a third of the way through our journey tomorrow.

Load Shed: Mochila Mini

From the moment I opened my eyes in Logrono, I was worried. I felt physically drained. I took my first step, and I thought for the first (and hopefully last) time that it was going to be a rough day. My knee went from peg-leg mode the day before, garnering sympathetic stares from fellow pedestrians, to unbendably (not in the dictionary) painful. Pain changes everything, and it brought me to my knees (no pun intended). All night revelers, swaying drunkenly from celebrating an all nighter for the Logrono festival, shouted the first disingenuous "buen caminos" of our walk. As Kelsey and I walked through trash, incredibly strong stenches of urine and vomit, and a beautiful city marred, we both felt the weight, physically and mentally, of our journey. Starting before 6 in the dark, we hobbled painfully through the city, not even able to speak. I found myself gasping for air as I was holding my breath from pain. The 440mg of ibuprofen on a nearly empty stomach didn't help either, until Kelsey swept in with a clutch granola bar. About an hour and a half into our shuffle, and still no loosening of the pain in my knee, it all became abundantly clear. I needed to distance myself even more from pride and ego. I needed to not give up, but let live. I needed a post office. 

Passing woodchip crosses on the way from Logrono.

I had thought "Oh look at me! I can carry 30 pounds of unnecessary stuff across Spain. I'm tough." My brain and my cardiovascular system could endure the weight, but my body was suffering. I wasn't going to make it to Santiago without some extreme stress to my body, if I was going to make it all. Walking, really limping, along, I became fixated on purging my bag. After a week of varying climates, different albergues and the realization of how civilized El Camino really is, I started thinking crazy thoughts, like cutting buckles off my backpack and just tying straps together. I decided that if I couldn't find a correo (post office) in the next town, I was going to find the first albergue and start donating to the ever present pile of pilgrim's discarded belongings. Mentally combing through everything in my pack, and obsessing about a post office for over two hours, we finally reached Navarette. Hallelujah! A post office, and it was open. Pilgrim luck was on our side as I found a perfect sized box at a market down the street, and when I explained in Spanish my dilemma, the shopkeeper dumped out the toilet paper in the box, re-wrapped the corners with tape and gave it to me. Furthermore, Jesus, a fellow pilgrim had been sitting in a cafe across the street, had seen our break for the post office, and came over to help translate what was sure to be a complicated transaction. 

Then came the fun part, as post office patrons looked on with bemused expressions, I proceeded to spread the contents of my pack over the majority of the floor, and select items destined for the box. In went the sleeping pad (it was a convenient kick stand for my pack, propping it upright, but...), the beautiful journal Kate had given me (I'll use it in Nepal!), duct tape, toilet paper, body wash, the carefully selected camera and charger, and so much more. So much in fact, that with the addition of a few of Kelsey's belongings, this ish came to 5.3 kilos. Onwards it will go to Santiago, ready for pick-up when we arrive.

Oh my God. What a massive difference. A third of the weight of my pack went into the box. Lifting it up and hoisting it on to my back, I felt like I could go run stairs. Seriously, what had I been thinking. Almost immediately my knee felt better. For the first time I listened to some music (I was trying to be a purist, but I love music and had already sung to myself all the songs I knew), and I was literally dancing down the Camino. 

I bumped into a German man, Tomas, walking with his mother from Logrono to Leon. Last year, they walked from St. Jean to Logrono, and next year, they will go from Leon to Santiago. With an infectious smile, he described an ideal life: a gardener in Berlin, landscaping beautiful public parks, winters in India practicing yoga, and traveling to yoga retreats around the world during any time off. Hmmmmm. Kelsey felt rejuvenated too, and we powered through the longest day yet, and arrived in Najera 10 hours after we had left Logrono. 

Walking through the blissfully small town, with its cafe lined plaza along a river, we arrived at the Albergue Municipal. A slightly eccentric Argentinian women checked us in and showed us our most interesting sleeping arrangement yet.

Sleeping next to Kelsey, in what was essentially a queen size bunk bed, it's a good thing we know each other. It may be a bit awkward to wake up, and realize you have rolled over and are face-to-face with a complete stranger. The fact that it was also about 90 degrees with all the sleeping pilgrims, and most people had thrown off their sleeping bags in their sleep, all lent itself to the free form atmosphere. After 8 days as pilgrims, our bashfulness is in full retreat, and we feel rather comfortable with the public atmosphere of the albergues.

Kelsey and I decided a salad was in order for dinner and we were led to a market by our friend Pepe. Loading up on salad fix-ins, baguette, cheese, cookies and nectarines, we prepared our evening meal in the albergue kitchen, breaking bread with Pepe, and greeting other familiar pilgrims as they transited through the common area. 

Guillermo, my grandfatherly conscience from the first day, came and sat by me after dinner and as I shared leftover salad with him, he told me about his Camino. Our conversation went further, and soon we were discoursing on American social issues, the state of the environment, and the importance of family. He pulled out his camera, and we went through the 350 pictures, 150 of which aren't even of the Camino but of his beautiful family. It touched my heart, his pride in the closeness and solidity of his family. He is a patriarch and is on the Camino to give thanks for the family that God has granted him. 

A pilgrim, resembling a Spanish Rastafarian, pulled out his guitar, and the room, full of merry pilgrims, began to sing Spanish songs, American songs, really anything with a recognizable tune. An old and grizzled Spanish gentleman, with only a few strums of a guitar to accompany him, sang in a rich, deep, slightly trembling voice old Spanish ballads. Looking around the room, as the pilgrims all leaned in towards the old man, it felt like a true Camino experience. 

The moon.

Sunrise at our backs.

We allowed ourselves a luxurious wake up of 6 this morning, as we only had 21 km to cover. It felt like a whole new Camino with my lighter mochila. My mind was able to move on from the pain, and once again revel in the experience. 

My pequeno (small) mochila next to a grande (big) stack of hay.

It is a gift to be able to release your mind to roam and dream big. This can be achieved, for me, with walking in a beautiful place. A typical Camino internal monologue could be something like "do I have the ability to affect other beings through simply being happy, or do people need something more physical to  recognize  the gift of happiness." Or "the only people around me, in this painting of a land called Spanish wine country, are pilgrims and farmers (and how lucky we are)." Or on love and the people I love. Or how many pounds will I lose on the Camino (so far none, which blows my mind). 

Sheep crossing.

Kelsey and I are growing closer and closer each day. How unbelievable to find such a wonderful person, that I happen to be so compatible with. It is crazy to think we hardly knew each other two weeks ago. She is strength and calm combined, and I have expanded my mind and self with the conversations we have had.

Roadside dining.

I call it the xylophone effect. At once you are surrounded by a gaggle of pilgrims, groups converging on each other, "buen caminos" and "hola" ringing out. And then you round a bend, or pause to regard a vista, and you are completely alone. All day long, it is the xylophone effect, and you pick up and drop off Camino walking companions throughout these transitions. So far, it has been a perfect balance of walking with Kelsey, walking with other pilgrims, and walking alone.

We arrived in Santo Domingo with plenty of time to enjoy a lazy afternoon. We had run into our long lost friend, Leon, lounging in a cafe 5 km before the town. And lo and behold he was our roommate in our tiny (wonderful) room in the nun's albergue in Santo Domingo.  

Tiny, private (sort of) room in Santo Domingo.

Leon educating us on what the sound of "Najera" means in Russian.

We found Pepe eating a mountain of fruit in our albergue's patio, and he offered a meal of homemade pasta for dinner. Perfecto. Laden with vegetables and bread, we returned from our shopping trip and patiently waited as Pepe performed miracles in the small kitchen. We also scored some long sought after fleeces which would round out our wardrobe for cool evenings.

Filled to the brim with deliciously olive oil, mushroom and powerfully garlicky pasta, we lounged around socializing until we started cargo crashing. Time for rest, time to heal, time to dream of the day ahead.

Growing Pains: Physical and Mental

There is so much to learn, on the Camino, and in life itself. To release ego and arrogance, to recognize your own limits of insecurity when you are wounded by someone's words or actions. The art and work of remaining within yourself, of being kind and patient to those around you as much of the time as you can, is a challenge that should consistently be engaged. I am learning that, Camino or no Camino, people are people. There is certainly a sense of euphoria and kinship amongst each other, but you arrive at to the Camino as a fallible human being, and your first steps don't necessitate a dramatic shift in perspective and personality. We all suffer from weaknesses, from not being our best selves at all times. I can see that in my fellow pilgrims as much as I can see it in myself. So I will endeavor, on this Camino, to open my heart to the rock of faith, to solid tenets of goodness. I will pledge my daily spiritual work to hold myself to these principles, no matter what may come on the Camino and in life. Tough stuff.

Kelsey is too cool for words. She is like a sea of calm for me. She is such a good listener, and reads herself so well. I am so utterly grateful that she is my companion on this walk. I am learning so much from the way she approaches life, my connection to her already feels unbreakable.

I naively and, somewhat, arrogantly thought I would walk the Camino with ease and vigor. But it is hard. Plain and simple. After my really stupid (in hindsight) decision to run through the city of Puenta de la Reina's cobblestone streets, my left knee basically said "f*#%k you." Tiger Balm and ibuprofen, I thank you.

Please excuse the crazier than normal hair as I model my new knee brace. Kelsey is sporting a couple if these bad boys too. 

Today, particularly tender as we walked down hill after hill, Kelsey and I observed that we looked like a) deranged ballerinas (on tiptoes and wobbly), b) lurching zombies with peg legs, and c) those giant white robots the ewoks battle in Star Wars. 

Yesterday morning we set our sights on Los Arcos as we departed Estella. Gingerly walking from town, we watched the simultaneous sunrise and moon-set as we crossed open fields. 

Yesterday was like out of the James Taylor song, "Country Road," passing fields of grape vines and leaning towers of hay. I have never experienced life at this pace, only as fast as your body can take you, for so many consecutive days. I have never even walked a day down country roads in the U.S. El Camino is a blessing in so many ways.

The distance to Los Arcos was relatively short, about 21 kilometers, and we arrived around 1. Settling in at the Albergue Municipal, we ran into our Camino friends, already relaxing on the patio. As we passed through town, we had walked through a beautiful and lively square with umbrella shaded tables and cafes. We joined an American couple, Dusty and Michelle, and lazed away a sunny afternoon, complete with hot chocolates and a giant tortilla sandwich for an early dinner. That evening I attended Mass in the stunning cathedral right on the square. 

This is actually in La Viana, but similar to the Church in Los Altos.

As I walked in before the service, I saw a man who appeared to be a pilgrim sitting in the pews. He had a flannel shirt on and cargo pants, and I almost approached him as he stood up. To my surprise he walked towards the alter with authority, disappearing into a side door, and appearing a few minutes later dressed in his robes to deliver the sermon. As the service was delivered in Spanish, with a few pilgrims quietly in the back, unable to respond back in Spanish to the priest, I quietly reflected on my own spirituality. Overcome at one point, I realized my desire for some form of direction. Some guiding principles. Whether it be religious or not, I am opening myself for a path to follow. This I have come to realize in these last few days.  

This morning, Kelsey and I arose very early, at 5, to start our day. It was such a successful day that we have decided to start every long walk day as early. We are slower than a lot of other pilgrims, so it helps to start early when it is cooler and quieter. 

A clutch bridge over a highway rushing with traffic.

Today was our longest and strongest day since day 1. Shielded by a cloudy sky all morning, and perfecting our imperfect hobble, we walked 28 kilometers to Logono in the heart of Spain's wine country. Momentously, we also passed the 100 mile marker of our walk. Stopping in the town of La Viana for our daily (sometimes twice daily) cafe con leche and tortilla, it feels we are truly assimilating into Camino life.

As we rolled into Logrono, an hour before we had anticipated, walking the last 6 kilometers on the worst material possible for your feet, concrete, we arrived at the Albergue Municipal as they were giving the last bed to another pilgrim. Unable to dim our happiness at the day we went on to Albergue Check In, and were greeted with our most luxurious albergue experience yet. Private bathrooms! A dormitory flooded in natural light and relatively stink-free! Yes and yes!

Today, Kelsey made a major Camino decision. We are throwing the schedule out the window. To make her deadline of 15 October, we would have to compress the already aggressive 26 recommended days remaining into 22. I don't think our knees would be able comply. This looming decision has been weighing heavily on Kelsey for days, and already within minutes of making this executive decision, her shoulders seem lighter. And not only are we giving the Camino schedule to God, but we will also be able to walk to Finisterre together instead of going our separate ways in Santiago. Perfect.

Wandering the festive streets of Logono (there actually is a festival going on) we ducked into the central cathedral to catch a bit of the Mass. My knee started to stiffen sitting in the pews so we continued on our way to a dinner of pintxos, which for my vegetarianism, turned out to be a bunch of fried cheese. I may need to chill on these from here on out. Indulging in some gelato in celebration of 100 miles, we watched a group of street performers in the main square posture around to loud music and make as if they were about to complete some acrobatic feats. Despite the massive crown gathered, they mostly seemed to be doing a bunch of head stands and elaborate stretches. Eating our gelato, listening to Gnarls Barkley, and watching a bunch of shirtless men, I could only comment "we are on a pilgrimage right now," and laugh.

Tomorrow, another day of what I love: walking.