Again a liquor cellar. Bodega? And the beet that Leon does not want is carried away by Tosca 
Why don ‘t we d do it in the road. Song of the Beatles. Undemanding Leon 
The road is ours. So walking in the middle of the road at least Leon can not always pull me down, which gets me crazy
Grim Reaper in the middle at the inn. That totally naked one I did not photographe! 
the shadow of the Grim Reaper hovering over the mushrooms
Abouty 20 km. done . That’s not much, but I know that there is shelter for the animals and … for this pilgrim today is Sunday (hypocrite), implying rest. After making coffee in the inn with the filtration system of daughter in law Danya, having a piece of stale hard bread and some cheese for breakfast, on the road again. Like yesterday Leon had not eaten the beet I had stolen from the field for him , so he has no right to complain about hunger today. I had leftover concentrate of the Parvo ladies and actually when I watched Leon, my Icelandic horse, at dawn, I thought that he nevertheless still looked reasonable, rather thin, but healthy. I’ve said it before: women, find an Icelander: tough, yet loving, willing to work, no specks, only .. they pull you off balance, but that is something to get away with. That also happens when dancing! And they are easily satisfied. But I have to add, this only applies to castrated Icelanders! See picture.
Nice weather again. After noon nearly cloudless. We walked almost constantly on a path besides the road. But along that path was grass and that implied Leon tugging on my shoulders. Therefore I walked right in the middle of the road . I think I have seen only 3 or 4 cars . Oh, rush, I’m in great urge to leave a brown bear on the road! And no bathroom available. In this wilderness you do that in the ditch next to the road. In the meantime I can release Leon so he can graze here. Why does a car pass me exactly at this very precious moment and it also even stops next to me? How embarrassing. A baby poop yellow Citroën (you know that color?) stops. I pretend I’m resting, put a few cloths into shape and wait. The man gets out and goes for a chat. Cozy! I with my pants still unbuttoned, soon covering it with my jacket , so it does not stand out too much. He asked what I intended with my journey and after this Spanish class I resumed getting dressed and I continued my journey, right in the middle of the street (photo). Again I passed some of those bodega cellars.
Meanwhile, the saddlebag is tearing. That’s because Leon sometimes does not properly pass a tree or something else or has to walk over a too narrow bridge and then he pushes through. Let’s see how long the plastic bag wil stand. If it eventually will completely tear apart I can still use the plastic to cover my backpacks with when it rains.
My thoughts go to the next big city, Burgos. On my 14th I’ve been there. My thoughts go 50 y. back in time. At Eastern 1964 Dad took his two sons to the Semana Santa in Sevilla. How in God’s name he got the idea, heaven knows. He had one week off. Uncle Jean was made hot. The two of them drove the 2500 km. day and night on the at that time tiny roads to Seville. We admired Seville, huge processions in the Holy Week. I still remember when I first smelled the delicious sweet scent of orange blossom. Songs of Leonard Cohen (picture yourself in a boat on the river, with tangerine trees and marmelade skies) and other romantic melodies remind me of those exceptional youth scents on that impressive trip. Since then I also like the Hoya (wax flower), the stefanotus, jasmine and similar sweet floral scents. In that week we also visited Toledo, the cathedral of Burgos (that’s why I am reminded of Seville), Paris in half an afternoon and one night. Dad dashed up and down the stairs of the Paris subway, square up and down, and we in tow running behind him like broken dogs . So I am memorizing: the spirit of my dad is in this journey, though he would NEVER do it my way, in this primitive way. I am able to do this ’cause I’m a little disturbed, half adhd, probably inherited from my dad. Did you ever meet anybody who was normal? And did you like it? This is all a result of Burgos.
In the inn of Berciano are a lot of anything and everything. Tosca and horse Leon are allowed in a courtyard next to the inn, where they can be under one roof and where there is hay and straw for Leon. I met among others a Hispanic boy who could fluently speak Flemish ( which is similar to Dutch), because he has a Flemish (Belgian) mother. We still sunbathe here in the late afternoon. Furthermore, I am not going to elaborate in the inn, because I hope to arrange many other things tonight. First googling for a shelter for tomorrow.
bye-bye.
See
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