Wednesday November 19 th 2014 Calzada de Valdunciel 15 km.

Last night in the dark I walked 4 km back to my simple inn in Aldeatejada. At bedtime I tied Leon to another pole, so he got plenty of new, good grass. Just hope he does not get colics, of which a horse can die, and also hope that he does not get laminitis.                                                                                        This morning at 5 o’clock I woke up on the floor in my poor, cold tavern and heard the rain gushing. Poor horse, I thought. I soothed my conscience a little bit, thinking that here all horses, cows, donkeys and watchdogs often are in the rain too. But they do not have to work all day like Leon. But the nursing cows with a calf and sheep with lambs also must stand this weather. Then for sure Leon can stand it too. So I’m worrying . And the bald spots in Leon’s coat because of the rubbing packing gear. I hope it doesn’t become a wound. I’ve stunned the packing gear a few times, but it did not help much. Worries.

I saddled and packed the horse in the rain and off we went. I think Leon was pleased that after waiting like in jail, at a pole one long day, he could walk again. With Paulina and Roberto (Spanish) I agreed to meet on Plaza Mayor of Salamanca, it is said to be one of the most beautiful and famous squares in Spain. We would film there. But Ho! Police: Get out of here, no horse in the square, over there is the way out of the square, the cops pointed me out. Even after leaving the square a lady cop came running to me to send me away. The first Spanish woman approaching me running! Yes, I know. Yo Salgo (I ‘m leaving already). I walked through the crowded main shopping streets like I was Santa Claus, along with the now arrived Paulina and Robertino. Still I made a few video recordings in Salamanca, among others, of the side entrance of the cathedral.

A somewhat drizzly day, not too cold, a treeless, undulating field drab landscape. In Aldeaseca the Armuña we entered a bar. Oladeladio. Wild west. Everyone there had a horse, they made me believe. Dog Tosca wanted to eat the canary in the cage, but those in the bar were afraid that the whole cafeteria would be covered with feathers , so preventive measures were taken. Leon stood outside, tied to a drainpipe, water from the roof dripping on his back. Out of compassion he received a bag of old bread from the barkeeper. The landlady said she came from Belgian Brussels, like king Charles V , I believe, the great Spanish emperor in the 16th century. Well, it was a lunch in a great atmosphere again, for only about one euro per person.
Arriving at the inn of Calzada I immediately put Leon temporarily on a grassy field. I finally showered, shaved, washed clothes, charged all electronic devices. Should I next move horse Leon to a better place? I’m soaked wet. What to do now? My soaked shoes had been drying a little bit, should I wet them again?

“Alli”, (over there) says an old (so even older than me) local Spaniard outside our inn. Leon was standing quite a distance away from his rope, in a different field, sheepishly laughing . How could he have entered that field, that was surrounded by barbed wire and locked with a gate? You think you can kid me with so little grass, Leon probably thought. I ask the Spaniard in Spanish the best I can: did you do that? Akakadabra. Is that pasture yours? I only understood Encerrada: closed. Bueno, man, muy bueno, well done, good people here, pat on the back and I went back inside, satisfied.  In the evening we took the Spanish pelegrino who had also been put under our protection in our hostel, out for dinner at the local bar and that was just about it for today.