Tag Archives: Camino Frances

Adios España!

The last step on our journey; we took the bus from Gijon to Bilbao and then from Bilbao to Irun, not knowing that the bus would actually go all the way to our final destination just across the border, Hendaye. Hendaye is a resort town in France, on the southwestern-most point on the border with Spain. It was a good day to travel as it rained steadily all day. The rugged, mountainous countryside made us realize how much more difficult the Camino del Norte is (we had initially planned to do that Camino). We are happy with our decision to have started with the Camino Frances!

We were ready to get off the bus in Irun, thinking that it was the final stop but then Michael noticed another passenger staying on the bus and asked him if the bus was continuing on. The answer was yes so we hopped back on. (In Bilbao we had tried to buy tickets to Hendaye but hadn’t recognized the Spanish form “Hendaia” as one and the same!!) We crossed a bridge and presto – 5 minutes later we were in France. The bridge spans an inlet from the Atlantic called “Le Bidoasoa” – the border between Spain and France runs right down the middle. We had booked a hotel close to the train station as we would be catching an early morning train to Paris. The bus stopped across from the station! What an easy last step!

I wish there was some way to thank Spain, it’s generous, always welcoming, warm-hearted and helpful people, the agencies responsible for maintaining the Camino Frances, the many wonderful ‘hospitaleros’ at the albergues and Hostals/Pensions that helped make this journey not only memorable for us but also affordable. As we walked along, day after day, through village after village, each with its own special flavor, we often talked about what it must be like to have this endless, constant stream of people inundating your neighborhood/village/country, day after day, regardless of season or year or even century for that matter….and remain so friendly and interested in us as ‘pilgrims.’ Many times we remarked about the huge amount of trash, mostly in the form of discarded tissues, littering the “Way.” As a matter of fact, once, in a lunch break chat with a Swedish couple, it was suggested, “Why do they make the tissues white? They could at least make them a dark color.” LOL!

Now, as we wait to take the train to Paris and for our final departure from Europe, we find ourselves equally excited and just a bit apprehensive to leave Spain and to resume life in N. America. The Camino is deeply life-changing, in a way we can’t fully understand at this point. We have a lot of processing to do. The Camino and Spain have been our home for the past 60 days.

THANK YOU BELLA ESPAGNA!!!

‘The People We Meet…’ Nationalities

“The people we meet along the way…” -My answer to a casual question – “What about the Camino have you found most memorable?” – asked over a Pilgrims meal.

There were so many interesting folks we got to know along the way. As soon as I would comment on one person, another would pop up from memory. Instead of editing out certain persons, a difficult proposition as they all had qualities I wanted to mention, I opted to break them into groups. Even so I had to let some go. The first is Nationalities, simply because that was invariably the first question asked was “where are you from.”

The Camino was an international walkway where we met South Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, Germans, Poles, Hungarians, Dutch, Austrians, Swedes, Belgians, Spaniards, Americans, Canadians, Mexicans, Brazilians, Australians, New Zealanders … so many that we lost track. And even though most spoke some limited English (not surprising), fewer spoke any Spanish. Which was very surprising to me, since most cafe & albergue staff had little English or any other language skills*. Still we managed to communicate.

The character who posed the question was a Galician Spaniard. He grew up near Santiago and was walking the Camino because “for years I’ve seen people from all over the world with backpacks on, entering the square of the Cathedral at Santiago, some crying, some laughing… others collapsing and just sitting… all after walking this thing called ‘the Camino’… SO I thought maybe I should try it to see what it was all about.” He had walked 110 km in a week ( all the vacation time he could spare) and was heading home via bus the next morning. I asked If he had discovered anything. He responded “No… not really”, with a laugh.

img_5813-1“Mik-hile” (he gave himself this nickname because his real name was too difficult to get westerners to pronounce properly), a twenty-something South Korean man, was the only other person at one of the first albergues we stayed in. As we unpacked I watched as he wandered the rooms holding his smart phone up over his head then down to check it… took me a few minutes to figure out that he was looking for … I asked, “No WiFi?”… he looked at me puzzled- so I said “INTERNET?” and he replied “NO Weeee Feeeee… very sad.” A laugh and shrug… As we enjoyed the evening meal using limited English & pantomime, we teased him about being young enough to be our ‘grandson’. Along the way over the next weeks we would suddenly hear “GRANDFATHER… GRANDMOTHER” as Mik-hile jogged up to give and receive a hug… We were always as pleased to see him as he was us.

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Olivia was another South Korean. She became known along the trail as the ‘Buen Camino Girl’ because of her exuberance when meeting or even seeing other pilgrims; yelling “BUEN. CaMEEEENO!”. You could hear her from blocks away.

Sel-Soo (phonetically spelled because I have NOT a clue how it should be) was a Brazilian man we kept passing and being passed by. We would smile, he would smile…and then exchange a “Buen Camino”. One evening being the only ones at the restaurant, we shared a table and a meal. Broken English and pantomime sufficed for our conversation. TWO weeks later we were approaching Palas de Rei and saw Sel-Soo waiting for a taxi. He was going into the next largest city because his legs hurt BUT, more importantly so he could eat some “pulpo” – pronounced POOL POE – a local delicacy. Apparently Palas de Rei is famous for it. Tilly asked “what is that?” Sel-Soo responded, “pulpo, pulpo… poooool-POE!” as he searched his memory for the English word… I laughed and then- having seen it mentioned on the menu – say ‘octopus?’… “YES – PULPO!”, he exclaimed and we dissolved into laughter.

Bern, an Irishman made my memory list when after learning about the Las Vegas mass shootings said “The whole world is broken.” We all shared a moment of silence at the table and nothing more could be said about it.

The Canadians we met were dominated by British Columbians (and mostly Vancouver Islanders) but we met the odd Québécois, Albertan & Manitoban.

Americans came from all over… Massachusetts, Georgia, Oregon, Washington (state & DC), Colorado, California, Texas are a few of the states I remember. OH yeah and we all avoided speaking about politics and ‘you -know-who’ back home.

p1030820Rich, a young American, was walking the Camino as a break from his volunteer work as a school counselor in Ghana. We remember his smile and positive manner. He walked fast and quickly out paced us so, we were surprised to catch up and pass him a few days later. Until, we saw how he and his new walking partner Katerina were interacting… I don’t think either of them were in any hurry to finish the walk….good for them.

Other nationalities I have not listed here include Swedish, Austrian, Polish because they fit better into one of my other groups.

*HINT – Learn some basic Spanish IF you are going to walk the Camino – you’ll wish you had learned more!

AFTER THE CAMINO – Muxia Days

We are in Muxia. It’s our 9th day here – we have another 5 days before heading off on another adventure – the adventure of getting back to Paris and from there – HOME!

But first, let me tell you about Muxia because it’s such a unique and beautiful spot:

It’s actually a tiny peninsula jutting north out into the Atlantic Ocean. Our Air B&B is situated right at the beginning or neck of the peninsula, on top of a hill and we are on the top floor. (This is a view from the beach at the entrance onto the peninsula.)

You can clearly see the peninsula and the 2 hills shaping it. We have lots of windows: when we look out the bedroom and dining room windows we see the sunrise in the morning and we see the business side of the village….the port where the fishing boats come and go….the restaurants and bars….and so on. When we look out the extra bedroom and den windows, we see the other side of the peninsula…the other side of Muxia….more residential….and we see the sunset….when the sun is out that is! When we go walking every day, we choose which way we want to walk around the peninsula.

At the other end of the peninsula is another large “hill” on top of which is an old stone cross and at the top of which you get a 360 degree view (I call it Stone Cross Mountain). Just past that hill is an old church (which I believe still celebrates Sunday Mass every week).From the church you can descend onto the rocks that form the northernmost point of the peninsula and those rocks I call the “Martin Sheen Rocks” because that is where, in the movie “The Way”, he tossed the rest of his son’s ashes. We also call it “The End of the World” (although Finisterre has that official but dubious honour) – the waves roll in all the way from N.America with nothing to stop them. It’s a most beautiful spot and we have spent a part of each day there, just sitting on the rocks, watching the waves crash in, always in different sizes, formations, directions, volumes, and shapes, marvelling at the amount of energy unleashed by each one.

Every day we walk in one way or another around the peninsula. Sometimes we walk in an entirely different direction, towards the mainland. Then we encounter a couple of beaches, a wooden walkway, and a little used road that wends its way around another point before it stops. Wherever we go, it is beautiful. The previous week was stormy, windy, cold, and either rainy or misty. This week has started with blue, blue sky and sunshine. SPECTACULAR!!

So that’s Muxia. Yesterday we went to Finisterre, just a short trip by bus south, down the coast from Muxia and it too is beautiful but much bigger and much more touristic. The big attraction is the old lighthouse at the very end of the point, the very “End of the World” as they believed in the medieval days. We sat and contemplated Camino experiences; enjoyed the sun; admired the lighthouse; dipped our feet into the Atlantic Ocean; sipped wine. A great day bu still, we are happy we decided to stay in Muxia.

Despite the quiet beauty of this place, I must admit to a certain feeling of dis-ease….a very strange sort of feeling that is difficult to describe….boredom maybe? Homesickness maybe? A feeling of ‘not knowing exactly what to do with myself.’ We walk, talk, eat, sleep, cook….all of the everyday things one does at home so why do I feel so much dis-ease? I think maybe it’s because for almost 40 days, I knew exactly what each would be about…walk, rest, eat, walk, rest, drink, walk, eat, sleep and repeat the whole thing 40 times. To all of a sudden stop …. well, I find I am confronting my issue of always needing to be busy: teaching with all of the tasks that made teaching so satisfying (and frustrating too) being with kids, watching their amazing variety of learning styles, seeing them grow, marking, planning, creating, organizing….and more; with the chores of daily life; with physical fitness; with going adventuring and discovering new places, making new friends….! All of a sudden, I don’t have “things to do” and I feel restless…like a turtle hibernating in its work shell and only now pulling my head out, looking around and seeing the world in a whole new light.

Michael and I talked about “walking into retirement” and now I laugh because that’s exactly what we did … inadvertently …. because the “Camino gives you what you need” we heard from several fellow pilgrims….you get the life lessons you need….! So yes, we are receiving our respective lessons now. The joke is on us!

 A Typical Day on ‘The Way’- Living in the Moment

Not that there’s really any day that’s the same, we did start to see a bit of routine develop. But I should go back just a bit…..we did initially try to plan every day, setting an end point for each day but discovered very quickly that most days never went according to “The Plan” we had made. Either the distances were longer or shorter than we were prepared to do each day (every day you feel different both emotionally and physically), the terrain you covered each day varied so much (some days there were many steep ups and downs or you walked a lot on boulders which is hard on the legs and feet), or maybe there were long distances to cover with no cafes or albergues in between so that when you’d get somewhere, all you wanted to do was to eat, drink, and rest; or it was raining and you were wet, or it was hot and dusty and you needed a sangria/cervesa/cervesa y limon, or you found a great ‘pilgrim supply shop’ you simply had to go into and shop….the list goes on. 
We were using a great guidebook which had been highly recommended to us, written by John Brierley. (As we walked along, we saw copies of the same book stuffed into numerous N. American pilgrims’ pockets and packs (Brierley must be making a killing since we saw so many and such a variety of editions!) Brierley divided the Camino Frances up into 33 stages; each stage with comprehensive maps, diagrams, lodging, and food. We learned that a sort-of “Brierley’s Brigade” as Michael called it, had developed along ‘The Way’ – many pilgrims who followed the Brierley book stayed at each beginning and end village/town/city at each stage. The distances for each day fell between 18 – 30 km/day. After some experimentation, we decided we wanted to listen to our bodies as to when to stop and to stay at the albergues in places between Brierley’s stages. Oftentimes there were fewer people, smaller albergues, and different choices in ‘Pilgrim Meals’ in these places. We stopped , usually at the first albergue we’d come across since our sore feet, legs & lungs and/or growling stomachs insisted.
So we gave up planning where we would stop to eat, drink, stay each night and learned to live in each moment. (Being a planner, this is something I have strived to do all my adult life.) The moment we awoke started our day. Sometimes if it was quiet or if we still had our ear plugs inserted and our masks still on, we could sleep past 6. If not, we’d get up with everyone else using our flashlights and headlamps (so as to allow sleeping pilgrims to sleep) or when the lights were turned on by some brave soul after 7am. (Sometimes that brave soul was me as I hated packing in the dark, afraid I’d leave some vital piece of equipment or clothing or toiletries behind.) Early on in our walk, when we were still part of ‘Brierley’s Brigade’, we would get up very early if the distance was far so that we could get the ‘required’ kilometres in.
Sometimes our ‘coffee moment’ started before the day’s walk began if the cafe was open early; other times, our ‘coffee moment’ happened along the way after an hour’s walk; sometimes (rarely) even after a 3 hour walk. We preferred to have a coffee and something to eat before we started but sometimes we started with just the water in our camelbaks. Then, finding a cafe that was open and serving breakfast was pure ecstasy. Most often, breakfast consisted of “cafe Americano con una pocita de leche” (coffee with a tiny bit of milk) with a croissant for me and tostada (TOAST –  which turned out most often to be warm slightly singed bread – few places had a toaster and threw the bread briefly on the grill) for Michael. Once I finally learned how to say “scrambled eggs” or “huevos revueltos” in Spanish, we sometimes had eggs for breakfast/brunch. We got so we actually liked to start with just a coffee, walk for an hour or more, and then stop for breakfast/brunch.
‘Rest moments’ happened very spontaneously depending on if: 

– you came across an unexpected and interesting coffee place – one playing Spanish guitar music… one on wheels…..;

 
– you came upon a Halloween parade;


– you are from Wyoming and just happened to come across a “Cowboy Bar”;


– you just had to stop and shop on THE WAY;


– a photographic opportunity beckoned; 

 
– you wanted to stop at a “landscape altar” (as Brierley so aptly named the many beautiful natural places) that simply called to you to come and spend some moments in silent contemplation; 

– a church with an open door, music playing, candles lit, invited you to come in; 


– you had a ‘hot spot’ needing the application of vaseline, sore feet, socks that had twisted around, or blisters that needed attention; 


– you spotted a vineyard with grapes or maybe a fig tree with ripe figs….! 


– you came by a ‘Donativo’ rest spot where many items/foods were on offer all by donation


– there was a particularly comfortable looking bench to sit on either in the sun or the shade – whatever the current conditions dictated;

– you found an outfitters shop for pilgrims and HAD to go in;

– you had to stop and enjoy the “Cow Concerto”;


‘Rest moments’ happened frequently some days and rarely on others. Sometimes a ‘rest moment’ even turned into a night in an albergue….and that is a whole other story altogether and the subject of another blog.

We also had ‘conversation’ moments and ‘silent moments’. Simply walking, placing one foot in front of the other for hours on end, clears your mind. You stop thinking about all the daily stresses and worries of everyday life. All of a sudden, you find you are having ‘moments’ of a totally different nature. Moments that:

– involve spontaneous singing of or whistling or humming of marching tunes you haven’t heard since you were a kid

– make you sing songs about the sun as it rises in the sky behind you, warning your legs and the back of your head as it lights up the sky behind you in magnificent colors of orange, fuscia, magenta, and yellow (You Are my Sunshine, Yellow Submarine, Here Comes the Sun….and many more)

– have you asking each other questions of a more spiritual nature and what you believe and why such as the connectedness of everything, the divine, universal energy, God.

 – are silent for what seems like hours

Living in the moment and making decisions when they needed to be made, made the walk relaxed and comfortable. We had the luxury of knowing we could stop whenever we wanted, whether it was for photography, to talk, to contemplate, to visit churches, to take the roads less travelled (aka the scenic route), for sickness, and that we’d still have as much time as we needed. We allowed ourselves a lot of extra time – over 60 days – for the entire walk. Brierley suggests that the walk can be done in 35 days but we wanted to take our time. Our average mileage turned out to be around 22 km/day with daily distances ranging from 8 to 30 km/day. We did the whole thing in 38 days including 2 rest days for sickness.

Albergue Nights – Sleepless on ‘THE WAY’

 One of the first scenes in the movie “The Way” takes place in a large, crowded albergue (pilgrims accommodation usually open rooms with rows of bunk beds and very little – mostly none – privacy). Martin Sheen lays awake as the multitudes begin to snore and snore… IT is funny. UNTIL it is you laying there… 


Almost every morning I/we awoke to some fellow pilgrim complaining about the SNORING and not being able to sleep. Just to be clear: EVERY albergue has a ‘snoring problem’ and with rare exception, EVERYONE snores… YES LADIES – even YOU! People snore LONG & LOUD – first, when they are TIRED & second after they have had a few drinks. Combine a large group who have walked a 20+km day, then consumed the cut rate “Perrigrino Menu” which usually INCLUDES lots of WINE… AND the RESULT will be a LOUD & most cacophonous concert that night. Rather than complain, I thought about solutions. After all we were warned.

Every Camino guidebook stresses the need for ear plugs when planning to stay in albergues. From my perspective they are an ESSENTIAL – CRITICALLY IMPORTANT piece of gear. So important that I would even say 2 pairs are advisable – just in case. GOOD EAR PLUGS – NOT some cheap foam ones that the airlines hand out; BUT high quality – GONNA let you sleep through WWIII EAR PLUGS. Before we left the states, Tilly and I purchased 2 pairs each of silicone earplugs  that deadened the snores so much you could hear your own breathing. Only problem, for me – comfort.

I would usually wake up in the middle of the night take out the uncomfortable ear plugs  and lay awake for a while, exposed to the full intensity of the noise. The first night, I braced myself for a sleepless few hours… wondering why I consented to sleep in one of these places. Sure enough there were dozens snoring! But, before I could manifest my frustration, I perceived a rhythm. Some of the snores were synced with others. Patterns began to emerge. Then one section of the room seemed to reply to another section. It was a symphony of nasal obstructions that I was hearing. Instead of being aggravated I became fascinated. Soon I fell easily back asleep. 

Most nights in albergues, I seemed to be hearing different concerts. The snores, puffs, squeaks, sighs, humps, whooshes, all blended … I began to name the nights… The Somnambulist Symphony, The 40 Wink Opera, The Snorers Sonata, but the best and most memorable performance was in the public albergue in Leon -The Barnyard Concerto. I awoke to the sound of a cow. ‘Humpf…moooooooooooo’ -‘Humpf…moooooooooooo – then a pig joined in ‘huck…eeeeeee’ …. ‘huck…eeeeeee’ …. ‘huck…eeeeeee’ … chickens clucked… dogs barked… cats meowed …. climaxing with a tractor starting … sputtering ‘puh’ … ‘puh’ …. ‘puh’… the farmer muttered something unintelligible … AND then the cow started the sequence over again. I swear it went on for an hour or more… but who knows… I fell asleep smiling. 

But before I make sleeping in albergues sound idyllic, as is wont to happen there was the occasional concert crasher. The Irishman was one. When he snored it was as his neighbor said the next morning, “like a bloody 747 at full throttle pulling an 8 hour long freight train”. I was three beds away and even the super-duty earplugs could not entirely stop the roar. And there were the nights of raucous partying by the locals in the bars located directly beneath our accommodations… one lasting until 0430… On those occasions I thanked the makers of our ‘industrial grade’ ear plugs…. 

So, if you are planing a Camino walk… pay attention to the warnings of the movie and guidebooks… take some darned good ear plugs. It will help to throw in your imagination and sense of humor.

Black Magic, Angels, and Miracles on the Camino

Black Magic, Angels, and Miracles on the CaminoBlack Magic- on a Friday, late afternoon – bad luck we ran into last week when we followed the advice in our guidebook and took the bus from Mansilla to Leon in order to bypass the heavy traffic coming into Leon, a large city here in the north of Spain. Michael in a moment of haste, left his “murse” (man’s purse) on the bus. He didn’t realize it until we were halfway to our albergue so we had to make the decision: return to the bus which most likely would already have left the station, or check into the albergue and ask for some help there. We decided on the albergue option. There, we met our first angels, Christina, Paul, & Jose, the hospitaleros at the albergue S.Maria de Carbajal, a convent in the old city. As soon as we explained what had happened, Jose was on the phone to the police in both Mansilla and in Leon. They recommended we take a taxi and return to the Mansilla bus station, so that’s what we did. No sooner had we started back in a taxi, than Paul called to say that the Guardia Civil had gone to the station to check and that it wasn’t there and that we should return to the Leon National Police to fill out a police report which we did. Not a word of English was spoken by anyone at the police station. The report we filled out was in both Spanish and English. Finished! We were sent on our way. The police couldn’t even send us in the right direction.

It was as we stood on a street corner looking at our map, trying to figure out how to get back to the albergue, that another angel popped up. He led us all the way to our abergue!!! (Meeting again two days later …he asked if we’d found the bag and when we answered NO, he said we should just stay in Leon!) We checked into the albergue and immediately Michael got on the phone and cancelled all of his credit cards. Thankfully, all of mine would still work. Thankfully also, Michael had his wallet and cash in his pocket. The passport and iPad were the issue. We could deal with a missing iPad but….the passport would be a very big issue … we would have to go to Madrid, to the US embassy there to apply for a new one AND that would take three weeks. 
The bad luck wasn’t quite over. That night, unbeknownst to me because of my super duper Walmart silicone earplugs until 2 am, Michael was ferociously sick, vomiting violently all night long. I think the last episode being around 0530. I had no idea what caused it because we had eaten exactly the same thing and I was fine. Our three angels at the albergue insisted we stay another night and let Mike sleep most of the day.. they would clean and organize around him as he slept. I, on the other hand, had to leave.  
Off I went, not dressed for the cold – armed with map and guide book. Within minutes I was totally lost without my trusty navigator (Michael). Seeing a woman walking by carrying a pack, I asked her if she was a “peregrino.” Indeed she was; Alicia arrived the night before from Menorca and spoke fluent English and Spanish. She became the next angel. She was headed for the cathedral and invited me to join. The cathedral was closed so she bought me a coffee and we sat in the freezing cold outside so she could have a smoke. She kept covering me up with her sweater. We went to the cathedral when it opened at 9am followed by another site, San Isadora, where I believe the Holy Grail is kept, but after that, she spent the rest of her time helping me by walking to the bus station, calling numbers for the bus line, the police (both in Mansilla and Leon), the Police lost and found ….. and so much more….she did so much for me. Finally, I bought her a smoothie before she had to catch her bus to Villafranca to start her Camino there, and returned to see how Michael was doing. He was weak but, much better than before. 
Leaving Leon the next day, Sunday, Michael wasn’t able to go much farther than 8km. We got a private room in a Hostal. Mike still wasn’t eating much and I wasn’t too hungry either, having caught another version of my cold and maybe a bit of Mike’s flu bug. The next morning we tried to call the embassy to talk to a human….no luck there – only got the message telling us to write an email. USELESS! That was Monday morning. 

We made the decision to walk on for two days, allowing time for the bag to be turned in. It had disappeared on the weekend when everything was closed…. maybe it still would be accounted for. With nothing else to do so we walked on, admittedly feeling despondent & considering throwing in the towel on this experience.
We walked and as we walked we started to feel better. We saw a sign asking, “Are you a pilgrim?” It was a rest area off the beaten path. Michael wanted to stop and I wanted to take pics of the stork’s nest on the church. What a delight. Fresh squeezed orange juice, chocolate, fresh fruit….lots of stuff all by donation. There we met are biggest angel of all, Manuel who ran the place, and Barbara, an angel who helped translate to Manuel what had happened. Manuel called all of the numbers that angel Alicia had written down for me, without luck. But, he wanted to know where we would stay that night, just in case something turned up; as he promised to ‘try’ again later. 
Although we had planned to stay at Villavente; we ended up staying only a short distance further at Villar de Mazariffe. We went for a snooze and at 645pm were woken by a knock on the door to tell us that there was a man waiting to see us. Mike went up first. By the time I got there, I saw Manuel from the rest stop in Oncina, giving Mike his bag, with all the contents intac. From what we could understand of the situation, the bus driver had found the bag, contacted the Leon police who contacted Manuel.

Tears began to flow as we learned that Manuel had driven his motorcycle all the way to Leon to pick up Mike’s bag….drove to the village where he thought we might be staying….Not finding us there, he stopped at every albergue on the way back until he found us!!! I still cry to think of his great kindness…without any expectation of reward….just for the sake of helping and giving. We bought him a beer and then we met our next angels, Renata and Sylvia from Brazil. We wanted to know the details of what had happened and asked them if they could translate. So we told the story in English to Renata, who translated it in Portuguese to her sister Sylvia, who in turn translated it into Spanish For Manuel and that’s how we found out all the details.
And that’s the Miracle of the Camino for us. 

Blisters, colds and rest days … 

As you walk the Camino there are two topics of conversations that crop up continuously… one is BLISTERS… the other REST DAYS… everyone has a story … this is ours…

35 Years!… It has been over 3 decades since I had a blister… Hell I thought I was immune. We hiked and hiked and hiked our butt’s off in preparation for the Camino… I had nary a hot spot. BUT Day 9 – I’ve got a painful blister on the ball of my foot… caused by sheer arrogance. I noticed the hotspot when we stopped in a little village 3 km from our ‘destination’… a quick fix and off we went. Could have stayed in that village but, no… had to press on. So, my reward for being pig-headed was a dime sized blister. The fix was to pierce the blister with needle & thread… leaving the thread in to facilitate draining as it healed…. build up the area around the site with moleskin – taking the pressure off the blister. 
Even with the ‘fix’ we had to cut the next day (day 10) short. By noon I was in enough pain to know I needed to rest my foot. The tiny village we stopped at had no Farmacia. When the hostess of the Albergue learned of my problem she left with a “momentito” and came back quickly with 3 feminine pads… in broken English she explained that other peregrinos had used them on the insoles of their shoes to cushion the blistered area. I was skeptical but foregoing my ‘macho’ instincts I took them with a quick “gracias”. Although skeptical, the more I thought about it the more it seemed like a good idea. I could modify the pad by cutting a ‘my blister’ sized hole, further relieving pressure. After several attempts at proper placement – i.e.- the hole was centered under the blister… it worked, brilliantly and would remain in my shoe until the blister was completely healed. I was back on track… a few km warm up and then I could work through the discomfort & into a regular rhythm.
All seemed on track as my blister healed. Day 12… Tilly walked while complaining of a ‘minor cold’. That morning 3 fellow peregrinos had taken the bus to Burgos ( the next large city) in order to get one of them to a doctor because her ‘minor’ cold gone major. Now it was Tilly’s turn…over the night she went into full blown suffering (as bad as any ‘man-flu’ I’ve ever had). It made no sense for her to walk 18 km into Burgos. Without objection (yes I win a few on occasion), I decided to reserve a hotel and then take the bus to Burgos. Only thing as we soon discovered, there was no bus service. Thanks to the charming & lovely owner of the local panderia [bakery] who offered to call a taxi from Burgos – a 20 minute wait, we arranged transport. Although I knew we would pay for both directions of travel it did not matter. Hell, we had paid through the nose to for a taxi in Paris to catch a bloody train … this was about Tilly … her health first, budget later. The driver arrived promptly. His skill and deftness at navigation had us to our hotel within 20 minutes. 
Arriving at 0920. I spoke to the receptionist… explaining that we were early, that Tilly was sick and I asked to leave our backpacks until we could check in. The receptionist looked at our reservation, said there was a bigger room available immediately for 20 euro more AND it faced the cathedral. 20 euros seemed a small extra to get Tilly into rest mode. Tilly was quickly ensconced in the huge master bed and asleep by 10:00. The outer room had a second smaller bed where I could sleep without concern of waking/disturbing her. She slept all that day and night only waking to have dinner. I took the time to wander the plazas around the cathedral… 
Next morning I was expecting a good recovery. Only a few minutes passed and I knew another day of rest was needed. The hotel was fully booked – a holiday weekend it seemed. I hoped on the iNet quickly booked another room in a highly rated hotel 1/2 a km away. Although it was not as big a room, it had two beds, comfortable and had the added benefit of being 1/3 less. Another day of rest.
Today was day 16 and with Tilly feeling better, we set out. The pace started slow, picked up and within 3 hours we had cranked out 10+ km. We stopped for a brief snack and refreshment. I could tell Tilly was not yet up to snuff. Even tho’ it was 70+ F she moved into the sun and complained of being cold. I knew it it was time to stop… we will walk again tomorrow…. increasing our distance in small amounts daily.