Thursday November 6th 2014 via Cacerės to Cases de Cacerės 22,6 km.

Here I was accosted by pretty chatting lady. Cáceres Here I was accosted by a pretty chatting lady. Caceres 

  Gypsies among themselves     Gypsies” among themselves

Straatkinderen voor Mama Alice Posing with the musicians

.  Cadaver. Food and perfume for Tosca  Cadaver. Food and perfume for Tosca 

 Albergue in Cases de Caceres

The days always begin cheerful. Tosca drags sticks, is rolling over in a cadaver that she has been dragging for half an hour and has devoured partly, so that in the evening she is not hungry anymore. Because she still jumps into every puddle of water, the stench sometimes is washed away.
A few darn kilometers we had to walk across the busy main road again, sometimes caught again between guardrails. Perilous. Some drivers slow down, most do not. And Tosca is suddenly distracted by a downtrodden hare, or with galloping horses and starts jumping and pulling me and Leon off balance. In this case the educational principle of ignoring undesirable behavior, doesn’t work any more. I have to communicate direct, firm and clear: Stop it, here and now and not otherwise. And in all possible body language I make that clear. That works, because we’re still alive! But here we go again: 4 pm, the sun is low, it’s cooling down ominously. I will reach my inn, but how about my two foster children? This morning I phoned in Spanish to the police Cases de Caceres if a horse can be accomodated in the inn. After a stream of Spanish words, I ask simply: so yes or no? No!
Caceres is supposed to be a beautiful old town, according to Pauline and she should know, because she has lived for many years in the south of Spain. Actually I wanted to walk past Caceres but the street  past Caceras was barred, so I had to enter the center and then began the shit of walking to and fro. Shit because I was sent four times hit and her through the center of the city. But thus I got a good impression. Furthermore, I start to feel more familiar with all my animals in cities. I keep hearing caballo, burro (horse, donkey). I guess they wonder whether Leon is a horse or a donkey. Leon is interesting, not me, I think with some jealousy. But maybe they are saying, watch that horse with that donkey next to it. A handsome guappa flacca stopped her car in the middle of the narrow road and friendly chatted quite a story to me. I didn’t understand much, but she was talking about a cafeteria 200 m. up the street. I did not want to go all the way downtown, but I could not disregard such a convincing guappa’s advice. I got there on a beautiful square, between ancient buildings, with guided groups of tourists around. The guappa’s cafeteria I didn’t find to my regret. I tied Tosca and Leon onto a giant flowerpot and wanted to grab my camera and film unit out of the bags. But first I had to dig through my backpacks, take out my shoes, a bag of dog food, unwashed underpants and put it all in the street. in the mean time tourists were taking pictures of Leon again, or of a tourist  taking his position in front of Leon. Not in front of me! Anyway, I got a lot of attention, so nothing to complain about. I make a film of a few musicians on their guitars. But for them it was just me who was the vagabond. So all of us together on the picture. We asked a passing pretty, female guide to pose with us, but she probably thought, with her chicque boots and suit, that this motley crew was too low standard for her and she ignored us. We had fun.

Finally we arrived in Cases de Caceres. Eventually we found the inn on the village square. That does not mean good prospects for my two companions. At the nearest cafe I asked advice about my animals. Finally, after many calls by the bar keeper with his long ponytail (which should give a committment to my Leon) a young lady comes to me, offering a bare pasture for Leon. Tosca may stay there outside in the field too! I’ll consider it, I shrugged off tacticaly her “generous” offer and left Tosca tied to a bench on the main square, in front of the inn, for a few hours, while I went out for diner with a French pilgrim woman in a nearby bar. She walks the Santiago route from north to south, so don’t be afraid Sonja, I’ll never see her again. Then, when it was dark, I smuggled her (Tosca), after consultation of the Francaise and the other hostel resident illegally into the inn. There she (still Tosca) now is tied to a table leg.
In five days I get friends joining me from around here. But I cannot wait at this same spot for 5 days. Then tomorrow I’ll continue my trip again and see where we will end up.

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