9th June Casterjiz to Boadilla en El Camino
Antonino and I were joined in our 8 bed room by two others for the night. One of them was Beth, an author from Canada who is writing a book about her Camino. The other person, a man I never spoke to nor found out his name turned out to be a Camino angel.
Antonino was in great pain with his feet this morning. The slightest pressure caused him to moan in pain, it was pitiful to listen to. Three days ago the doctor had told him to rest up for three days. He didn’t. The end result is flesh wounds on heels that must be half an inch deep. On one sole of his feet he has a large infected blister and somehow or other he has managed to get a deep blister inside that one.
I watched silently as the Camino angel tended Antonino’s feet. Barely a word between them could be understood by either. The tenderness by which the angel treated Antonino spoke more than words ever could.
This morning I get a message from home which stuns me. I have been oblivious to the fact that none of my e-mails to loved ones back home have been getting through to them. I check my outbox and there they,are every single one of them, including the photos some “Camigos” had asked me to send to them. I can’t fix the problem and have set up another way of contacting home.
At 7:15 I start walking. Soon I am lost in thoughts of home and the hurt I have caused. The next time I am truly aware of my surroundings is about 3 hours later when I stop for a toe wiggle. I have just passed through a place called Castorejiz. I don” t even remember taking these photos, so, somewhere in the middle of my troubled thoughts, a part of me was looking after my Camino for me to look at later. I am seeing these photos, like you, for the first time and I am pleased to share them with you.
Some the walking today includes some steep hills under a hot sun with feet that ache to be freed from their leather confines. Toe wiggles are more frequent today than at any other time so far. During one stop, I am engulfed in a wooly, dusty, bell tinkling, dog-yelping maelstrom of noise and smell as this lot squeeze past me, forcing me to quickly rescue my boots and socks before they are trampled under hoof.
– I realise I have walked about 28 kilometres. I am in a place called Boadilla del Camino. It’s crowded with pilgrims who have obviously been here some time. They are fresh faced, cleanly laundered, relaxed and enjoying a tipple of their favourite something or other. I meanwhile am sweaty, dusty, hungry and thirsty. I am lucky to get one of the very last beds.
This is my refuge for the night.
I am quickly, showered with my laundry done and look forward to dinner which turns out to be a noisy, multi-languaged affair. The fare is simple with garlic soup to start with (yuk!) followed by a lovely stew of beans and some sort of meat. The last course, bravely advertised as ice-cream turns out to be an ice-cream lolly.
This is Gunilla from Sweden the only person I could really speak to during dinner, and although I tried to speak with the others at our table, with my poor hearing and the various accents, I couldn’t and soon recognised people were being polite and trying to communicate with me. I decided to make life easy for them and fell into a silence.
I speak with a couple of Americans who pass me a message from Alana and Ethan from our original family. Ethan you may recall is the little guy who had the bad night at Granon. It seems they are now only one or two stops in front of me now so, if all goes well we should see each other fairly soon.
About an hour after dinner I was asleep.
Steps today 38524