Paulien in front of the local heating system. Picture of the harsh bar life
Local elderly younsters heating their putekes/puëtjes (hind limbs)
Bad photo of Harrie’s harsh bar life
I stay cool and just want to get my pilgrim passport stamped.
Pedropilo, pedrofielo, petro dildo, silly pedro, Pedrosillo. We get all confused even without alcohol or mushrooms.
Let’s start at the beginning of the day.
The weather is awful. All day gevets (see Endepols, Diksjeneer vaan ‘t Mestreechs) on a plateau of 1000 m. altitude. Rain and a “chill factor” of the wind, so it feels like around zero C. Today I had stuffed my luggage for the 2nd time ever in the Eddie saddle bags. As I have not had any experience with this way of packing, I could barely get into my backpacks. I was almost frozen. I had left my winter coat in the Netherlands. After all, I would go to hot Spain. Should I proceed in the rain, or stop, unpack the saddlebags and then pack them in the rain again? I decided to stop before I could change into a cold, stiff Roman milestone. It’s a good thing I stopped because this weather is kicking me off the b….. I must admit: beautiful scenery, whole stretches of the Roman Via de la Plata were still clearly recognizable. Since last night the sheets were very grubby, the conversation went on bedbugs, fleas, crabs etc. We have renamed the old Roman road Via de los Platjes ( Dutch for pubes lice). Once in a while we also passed houses named Villa de la Platjes. We suspected that it was a warning not to sleep there. We spotted an eagle and we saw many cranes in the field.
Arriving at the inn, there was no heating. An electrician was busy trying to fix the shower . There was a small boiler with warm water. Paulien asked where was the front door key. There is not, because if the door is locked, you can still push it open! Tosca is allowed inside and there she is safe, the nice manager said. Whatever, there is nothing to destroy anyway. Leon got a bare pasture, without any shelter, like all the other horses here. I wonder how this animal can stand all that. I asked the manager: no stable here? No, he said, in the whole village not one stable.
So we go to the bar Laurano, a few houses away from our albergue. There was wifi, a central stove and the whole village seemed to be there. For the rest, Rob found it also barren. He was right. What we have for diner? Pappa’s? We’re here with cannibals. Pappa’s turned out to be potatoes or French fries. We laughed. Those Spanish children adress their father with potato. A guy at the bar said that The Netherlands had a lot of roses. Yes, especially tulips, we said. Rosa behind the bar is our rose, he said. Our tulip is Paulien, we said. He had already seen her blush. The two older girls no younger than 70 at a table under the TV, were warming their feet at a little stove with ash. See picture. Here they jump on each other like toads or penguins at the South Pole, to stay warm. See picture. Two elderly youngsters of over 70 sat there, probably waiting to be warmed in a similar way. I encouraged Rob, but he was not yet adjusted enough to Spain. How will that be tonight in the icy inn? You may introduce some older youngsters for free. In the bar we got our pilgrims passports stamped, otherwise they will not let you in the free or very inexpensive hostels (photo).
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