Days 24-25 Una peregrina de lujo
Day 24
El Burgo Ranero to Mansilla de las Mulas--11.78 miles; 329 km. to go
Today´s walking highlight is a cornfield in amongst all the wheat. Oh yeah, and a couple of trains streak by in the distance. And a large machine is laying pipe. I think this little section is why people bailed off the Camino back in Burgos and took the train/bus. But the terrain is flat with no rocks, so I´m happy.
Walking along in the morning
Mansilla de las Mulas is a surprisingly nice little town. Its name comes from once being a mule market, but the only pack animals it sees nowadays are the pilgrims toting all this stuff on their backs.
I walk up to the town albergue/refugio and already it's noisy with Italian pilgrims lined up in front. I turn on my heels and find a small hostel that has a--big gasp here--designer decorated room: a wrought-iron bed frame with filmy white curtains hanging about, rocking chairs, and a copy of Elle next to the bed. Of course I open the magazine to an article about (shhh, gotta keep quiet so the feet don´t hear) chichi salons in Madrid where you can go for special foot reflexology treatments.
"Hey, what are you whispering about?"
"Nothing. You guys just relax for a while."
"Oh, OK."
Storks on the church ledge outside my window
Better change the subject. How about the ancient European tribes that presently manifest themselves as countries? The Italians, for example. Very nice, very fun. But they can´t stop talking. Especially middle-aged Italian men. They cannot shut up for a second. Put them on a chair next to an open window where people are inside trying to sleep, and off they go. For several hours. Any flicker of a neural impulse in their heads must be verbalized, and if no one is around, it´s yak, yak, yak on their mobiles, text messaging as the very last resort. They even do this while lying in the albergue bunks. Even in the wilds of Spain, I´ll be sitting next to a small stream, and if a group of Italian pilgrims pass by, they´ll stop in their tracks and start yabbering--to each other, on the mobiles. And they can yabber and smoke at the same time.
Day 25
Mansilla de las Mulas to Leon--11.16 miles; 311 km. to go
Today´s walk takes me through the industrial neighborhoods of Leon. Technically, I think the meseta ends in two more days, but I feel like I´ve already walked across the state of Nebraska.
It´s time to celebrate though, especially since I´m back in civilization. There are real stores with real goods in them, real cafes with really good pastries, and real restaurants where they don´t need special door curtains to keep the flies out.
I am staying at the famous Hostal de San Marcos, one of Spain´s grand monuments as well as a parador. In the 12th century this place was bult to shelter pilgrims, and four hundred years later it became a monastery for the Knights of Santiago. Now that my eye is keen to catch such detail, on the immense Plateresque facade is a splendid carving of Santiago de Matamoros. I am told, while being escorted to my room, that early in the morning I can watch the pilgrims pass by from my balcony. The hotel even gives me a pilgrim´s discount.
My hotel: the San Marcos--note Santiago de Matamoros above the door
A weary pilgrim statue
El Burgo Ranero to Mansilla de las Mulas--11.78 miles; 329 km. to go
Today´s walking highlight is a cornfield in amongst all the wheat. Oh yeah, and a couple of trains streak by in the distance. And a large machine is laying pipe. I think this little section is why people bailed off the Camino back in Burgos and took the train/bus. But the terrain is flat with no rocks, so I´m happy.
Walking along in the morning
Mansilla de las Mulas is a surprisingly nice little town. Its name comes from once being a mule market, but the only pack animals it sees nowadays are the pilgrims toting all this stuff on their backs.
I walk up to the town albergue/refugio and already it's noisy with Italian pilgrims lined up in front. I turn on my heels and find a small hostel that has a--big gasp here--designer decorated room: a wrought-iron bed frame with filmy white curtains hanging about, rocking chairs, and a copy of Elle next to the bed. Of course I open the magazine to an article about (shhh, gotta keep quiet so the feet don´t hear) chichi salons in Madrid where you can go for special foot reflexology treatments.
"Hey, what are you whispering about?"
"Nothing. You guys just relax for a while."
"Oh, OK."
Storks on the church ledge outside my window
Better change the subject. How about the ancient European tribes that presently manifest themselves as countries? The Italians, for example. Very nice, very fun. But they can´t stop talking. Especially middle-aged Italian men. They cannot shut up for a second. Put them on a chair next to an open window where people are inside trying to sleep, and off they go. For several hours. Any flicker of a neural impulse in their heads must be verbalized, and if no one is around, it´s yak, yak, yak on their mobiles, text messaging as the very last resort. They even do this while lying in the albergue bunks. Even in the wilds of Spain, I´ll be sitting next to a small stream, and if a group of Italian pilgrims pass by, they´ll stop in their tracks and start yabbering--to each other, on the mobiles. And they can yabber and smoke at the same time.
Day 25
Mansilla de las Mulas to Leon--11.16 miles; 311 km. to go
Today´s walk takes me through the industrial neighborhoods of Leon. Technically, I think the meseta ends in two more days, but I feel like I´ve already walked across the state of Nebraska.
It´s time to celebrate though, especially since I´m back in civilization. There are real stores with real goods in them, real cafes with really good pastries, and real restaurants where they don´t need special door curtains to keep the flies out.
I am staying at the famous Hostal de San Marcos, one of Spain´s grand monuments as well as a parador. In the 12th century this place was bult to shelter pilgrims, and four hundred years later it became a monastery for the Knights of Santiago. Now that my eye is keen to catch such detail, on the immense Plateresque facade is a splendid carving of Santiago de Matamoros. I am told, while being escorted to my room, that early in the morning I can watch the pilgrims pass by from my balcony. The hotel even gives me a pilgrim´s discount.
My hotel: the San Marcos--note Santiago de Matamoros above the door
A weary pilgrim statue
posted by Pam on the road at 8:13 AM
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