Seeing Stars

The honeymoon is officially over. After yesterday's near forced march to get in to the pension by 4, we decided to get an earlier start today, we were up before 6 to get walking by about 7 - or so we hoped. Breakfast was typically Spanish, which means continental (honestly, what do I have to do to get some bacon around here!), and after last minute bathroom trips, pack adjustments, and going through mental checklists to make sure you have everything it was closer to 7:20 before we were walking.

The walk this morning into Pamplona was beautiful. I know that most folks can't take a month, nor have any interest in doing so to walk the whole Camino, but it would be well worth the investment of four days to do St. Jean to Pamplona. We crossed the river several times on Roman and medieval bridges, walked through wheat fields, and stumbled on sleepy little villages crowned with old Romanesque churches that were old before our country was born.

In the town of Villava (founded 1184, medieval bridge still intact) we asked for directions to a clinic to have Mom's mouth looked at after yesterday's mishap, just in case. An hour more of walking (8 miles so far) found us in the clinic we had been looking for. They informed us they only saw urgent care patients until noon. It was 12:30, so they directed us to another clinic. We had left the Camino some way back on the outskirts of Pamplona, and would have to get back to it.

They were able to see Mom right away, but informed us we would have to pay. 33 Euros. Compared to my last urgent care visit, this strikes me as a smoking deal. What was interesting was that they could not take payment at the clinic. I had to take the bill they printed for me to a bank (they gave me a list of acceptable ones) and have the money deposited directly into the provincial government's account, get the bill stamped as paid, and bring it back to the clinic. At first blush, this struck me as dreadfully inefficient. On the other hand, we are foreigners who are not entitled to public benefits in Spain, and they know we will be leaving the country at some point, so maybe it's quite expedient on their part. I am amazed at how cheap the medical services were.

I was also impressed by the system for taking money the bank teller used. Instead of the typical cash drawer like you would see in the States, he fed the 50 euro bill I gave him into a slot, which apparently counted it, made sure it wasn't counterfeit, and stored it. This mini-vault then gave him the 15 euros of change I was due. Pretty smart machine, and relieves some responsibility on the part of the teller, plus it's more efficient. By the time I got back to the clinic, Mom was all fixed up. No stitches required, and we were back on our way. Total time lost was about an hour. Not bad, really.

We made our way through Pamplona, and I have to tell you, the most wonderful thing happened. We are obviously pilgrims, as we're carrying large packs, hiking poles, and wearing scallop shells, the symbol of the Camino. Probably 30 times today as I walked through the streets, people would stop to ask me if I was going to Santiago, where I was from, and with a look of genuine joy on their face, wished me "Buen Camino" - a good journey. What a cool thing, and tired as I was, it was difficult not to smile perpetually.

After a wonderful lunch we began the last four kilometers of our trek. We had started out the days walk in very cool temperatures; it was now well above 90, and we no longer had shade as we left Pamplona. We had not really had issues with carrying sufficient water to this point, but if those temperatures continue, we will have ton rethink hydration.

I found myself thinking about three main things as we labored in the heat this afternoon. The first two I knew intellectually, but they took on new meaning as a pilgrim than they had before. Spanish towns and houses, largely because of history (they were at war for 800 years after all), are both built with an eye toward defensibility. This means that Spanish towns are dense. Unlike American towns that have a downtown, an urban area, suburbs, and finally rural areas, Spanish towns basically go from city to rural in one block. There are few single-family homes, almost no yards, and everything is as crammed together as reasonable. The buildings themselves, still, seem to be constructed with an eye towards durability. Almost all construction is of thick brick, with relatively few windows. This keeps out heat and energy costs down. Spanish towns, again because of a history of war, are almost always built on a hill. In medieval times, you wanted to see your enemy far off, and then you wanted him to have to work to get to you. This does not matter much in the modern day, except when your mode of transport is your own two legs and you are walking from place to place. Climbing up and down hills every time you enter or leave a town bets old fast.

Finally, I thought about how much smaller your world is when you walk. Today I walked from one bedroom community of Pamplona to another, and it took all day. I thought about pretty much nothing in my nor al world except walking, eating, and hojw 15 miles seems like 1500 sometimes.

Which brings me to the blog title. We have once again eschewed the pilgrim hostel four a four star hotel. We've decided we'd rather pay a little more, where feasible, to at least have a private bedroom, if not bathroom, simply because having to plan your life to keep an eye on your possessions gets old, as does sleeping with your wallet and passport in your pocket. Tonight that meant a Marriott affiliate a couple of kilometers off the Camino. Do I feel guilty? Yes. But even medieval pilgrims didn't make themselves suffer unnecessarily.

Tomorrow is 16 more up-and-down miles. I am holding up better than I thought, but am worried a bit about the folks. We struggle to keep our average speed above 2 miles an hour, and with the heat...we'll just have to see.