Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Day 11 Camino de Santiago July 16, Ciruena





Waking up in Ventosa today I noticed that all the beds were empty except our little group of six.  Everyone had gotten up at 5:00 AM and were wrapping Christmas presents (rustling plastic bags and their backpacks).  We don't hurry.  We don't let a little guide book dictate to us how far to walk.  We walk, we talk, we walk alone (we are not talking then), and we stop when we are ready.  This is a picture of our dorm in Ventosa.














  Is it illegal to throw Italians off a cliff?  Two Italian women were talking non stop in the dorm at 5:oo AM as if they were at the beach.
 


Not to whine but to give an idea of the toll the Camino takes on the body, our feet are sore, duh, it's been about 250K.  My left knee is about played out.  Swells at night and won't bend.  Right shin strained.  EVERYONE has some ache or pain so it's normal.  When someone asks how I'm doing, I always sign great, or wonderful.  We all hurt.  But seeing hydrangeas eases the pain because it brings back good memories.


 




 Why do people who like Classical music think that everyone likes classical music?  Bit of snobbery, don't you think?  I like Waylon Jennings, but if I had a hotel, do you think that I'd have it blasting away at 6:00 AM?  Uh...no!!
 















 Love these little way stations for pilgrims!  Very well made and sure to stop the cold wind in the winter.  We saw pictures of Ventosa in the winter under a blanket of snow!  Beautiful.






















  Passing through the town of Nareja, we crossed over a creek that screamed, "Get your flyrod out!!"  I don't have a fly rod!





















 We had planned to stay here for the night but, Owen, one of the informal group said he had a second and.  Left the pretty town and the beautiful monastery.




















 One more dusty road, but I don't mind it because you have great views and freedom wafting through your head.  Ya gotta love it!




A person who won't read has no advantage over one who can't read. - Mark "my man" Twain