Today was a very low key day. We convinced Dad to go to the doctor this morning. Once again I am impressed with the efficiency of the Spanish health care system, as from the time my folks left for the hotel, took the taxi to the doctor, saw the doctor, and returned was barely an hour. Dad is not dying. He just has a bad case of tendinitis. The doctor told him to lay off his feet a couple of days and to buy an ankle brace.
As we went into a bar for breakfast, we ran j to a German we met our first night on the trail, in France. His name is Marvin, and he is from Frankfurt. Studying Chemistry he just finished his Bachelor's degree and is taking a semester off to walk the Camino before he begins his Master's work in October. Marvin was not having a very good day. Someone had pickpocketed him, and while he had all his credit cards and papers, he lost the key to the locker where all his belongings were stored. They were having some trouble opening the locker, so he had four hours to kill. We blight him breakfast, but when we asked if he needed any money, he declined, saying that he had run in to a Swiss woman he had met previously on the Camino and she had given him 50 Euros. I made a quick joke about the Swiss always having money, but it occurred to me that this was a remarkable occurrence for two reasons: Marvin had been taken care of by friends on the Camino when he was in need, and he was honest enough not to take advantage of the situation.
We were able to make it to our 12:15 train with plenty of time to spare and an hour later found us in the town of Sahagún. This particular town, of fewer than 3,000 people was a Moslem stronghold for much of the Reconquista period, and is known as the birth place of the "Mudéjar" style of architecture. More importantly, we are now smack dab in the middle of the Meseta. It is flat. And hot again.
Mom and I walked around the town this afternoon, doing a little shopping (pastries!) and seeing what there is to see. I find myself thinking that it would be nice to have a little place in the country in Spain somewhere. But not here. I think I would much rather be in the northern mountains somewhere. If you picture in your mind the archetypical Spanish village with whitewashed houses and red-tile roofs basking in a shimmering sun on rolling plains, you've pretty much got Sahagún. So many places like this exist in Spain - old towns that whisper of glory days gone by when their fortresses held rulers of kingdoms or merchants or they boasted of powerful churchmen in their cathedrals and palaces. But that was 1000 years ago and a world away and now all that exists is a sleepy little backwater village with faded memories of youth.
Tomorrow, we walk to a town called "El Burgo Ranero", "Town of Bullfrogs". We have convinced Dad to take the train and meet us. What will take us at least four or five hours to walk, he will cover via train in exactly 11 minutes. I'll admit, that's a little depressing, but that's not really the point is it? I have enjoyed a bit of a change of pace, but am actually looking forward to walking again in the morning.
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