No Spanish Babies Were Jumped Over in the Creation Of This Post

Chris Macaluso, if you're reading this, we are staying tonight in the town where they jump over the babies once a year to cleanse them of original sin. I don't pretend to understand it, it must be a Catholic thing.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, we are making progress, albeit slowly. Today's climb took us up and over another mountain range (yay!) and into Burgos. The fog and mist of yesterday gave way to very cold temperatures and 40mph winds today, and I still do not have long sleeves or a jacket.

Voldemort is still chasing us, though today he had both a backpack and a female companion, whom I will christen Bellatrix Lestrange. They zipped into the bar just as we were finishing our first coffee break to get out of the cold, and then they marched past us double-time about a kilometer out of town. I imagine we will lose Voldy and Bella in Burgos, thank goodness.

Burgos is a sizable town, being a provincial capital, and so the last five miles of our trek was through the industrial complex of the city. This was a stark reminder that we are perhaps not out of the Great Recession as it's being called. It was much like walking through a ghost town, and I was reminded that unemployment in Spain is still hovering around 25%. I am feeling the need to be mindful and thankful of how blessed I am as a result.

Our hotel is situated near the cathedral in the old part of town, and once you are in the city proper and out of the wind, it's actually a beautiful day. I found an Internet deal and snagged us a two-story suite for 98 Euros. We had hoped to get out and do some walking around, and catch the bullfight, but I think we are all too tired.

Dad does not seem to be improving. His blisters are better, but his leg is worse, and in fact it felt feverish to the touch and he has a large bump about midway down his shin. This is his left leg. He did not even feel like going out to lunch, so Mom and I brought back a sandwich and coke for him (after we enjoyed some delicious tapas and sangria ourselves!). We have been trying to wheedle him in to getting his leg looked at in a clinic, but it would seem that my own tendency toward obstinence comes from both sides of the family in equal doses.

Tomorrow, we have a bit of a break. We are taking the train to the town of Sahagún, where we will resume our trek afoot on Saturday. Dad has promised that if he does not feel better when we arrive in Sahagún, he will stay there until he can meet us in León.

We are almost two weeks into the trek, and I am loving it. True, traveling with my folks and their various foibles is wearing on me, but I know that I have quirks that weigh on them too. This is the nature of traveling in close quarters for extended periods of time. So you try to have a little patience, or failing that you have a little wine!

Every little town we go through seems to have no shortage of old houses for sale. We have talked about buying one and renovating it, but I have a feeling this will probably not happen. It's simply one of those things that brings joy to dream about, and that's OK.

I do find myself thinking about friends and family back in the States quite a bit, especially those who have travelled with me to Spain. I wouldn't say I'm exactly homesick, but I am beginning to feel a bit out of touch. This is probably a good thing, as it means I am probably getting to a place mentally and emotionally where God can do some work.

A rather funny thing happened today as we were on the outside of the industrial complex, headed in to town. We were standing at a crosswalk when a couple of road workers in a van started honking, pointing, and laughing. Now, we are Americans, but it was obvious we weren't that strange, so we started looking around. On the other side of the street, in full view of God and everybody, a perfectly sober-seeming 80-year old man was relieving himself. I will admit,it was rather humorous. When the road workers drove by him they yelled at him, and let me tell you, he yelled back and gestured unequivocally....with his cane. Then he waddled across the street by us and said most politely, "Buenos Dias". I was laughing for the better part of a kilometer.

Not much else to report, really. It should be a low-key couple of days, I hope, free of snoring Germans, unintentional moonings at wayside bathroom breaks by my mother, or further problems with my father's feet or legs. Enjoy the pictures, and if you have a moment, let me know how it goes stateside!