Tonight it was freezing. I lay on the ground in the unheated “pilgrim hostel” of Aldeatejada: one room with a wood stove that did not open, no wood available, no electricity against freezing. I had wrapped the sleeping bag in a horse blanket and on top of that Leons rain cover and Tosca sleeping against it. I prefered Leon also to sleep inside, but yes, there are limits. Straw for the stove I had allready offered Leon, which was a rewarding addition to his gelbsj (lush) grass. The toilet of the pelgrims shed had exactly enough water for 3 x partial flushing. I got breakfast in a bar: ordered all Spanish portions double. Including 2 cafes con leche grandes, 3.40 euro. I payed 3.50 E, so 10 c
Inn at Paulien and Rob’s in Salamanca, with buttresses
too much. That’s a little extra for the waiter so he can buy a necklace to adorn his beloved one. Next I walked 4 km again with dog Tosca, to Salamanca center, where Paulien and Rob had found another albergue, next to a house, that was supported by heavy steel beams. Rob did not dare stamping on the stairs, afraid that the inn might collapse. After a walk through the city Plien wanted according to Spanish custom, to have a hot meal for lunch. In the bar they played JJ Cale “After midnight”. And also the rest of the CD. Tosca was allowed under the table and our energy level rose again. Rob and I wondered who was most impressed by the female half of Spain, but then again we are spoiled with Paulien’s company.
When we asked, Paulien indicated that her eyes sincerely checked the virile part of Spain. That does not flatter Rob and me. What shall we do tomorrow?, Paulien and Rob ask. Harry wants to sleep a little longer tomorrow
I’ve noticed that we in Western Europe are growing into one Western culture. Here, like in the Netherlands, most children are too heavy. All these honey pies are brought to school by car , even in the smallest hamlet, grandfathers with a blue shine in their gray thin hair, toothless grannies with yet black hair, fashioned quilted jackets, trousers showing the butt crack right above the underpants. A old chap with gray ponytail, a 70+ lady with tight leather pants, high heels and heavy makeup and trendy haircut, an oriental beauty who asked me to take a picture of her at the Roman bridge. I asked how. Only my upper half. OK. The lower half she wanted to skip. She was very right. And there was a madman with a horse and a dog. In the evening I returned with Tosca one hour strolling back from Salamanca center to my cold, humble shed in Aldeategadan again. The grass was covered with a thin layer of frost.
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