BAD ATMOSPHERES

I had been looking forward to arriving in Merida for several reasons. Firstly, to hopefully see, some very significant architecture from the Roman empire, and the Roman ruins. Also so that I might get a few days to catch up with the blog and rest my feet. Though in good shape, needing a rest was well on the cards.
The feeling returned throughout the day that I had missed something important about the ´Ömens`, over which Santiago had spoken some weeks ago. He had said to pay attention to them. Well Paying attention to, and becoming immersed in them was of course very different. What for example had the omen of the snake been about ? Obviously I kept a keen eye out on the ground as I walked, hoping not to surprise one and get a nasty bite !!! But I felt certain that the meaning was far more subtle thatn that with a more practical angle. What does a snake signify, was my first train of thought. Well, a snakes behaviour by nature is very secretive, quiet, hidden from view, no doubt to protect itself. From stories about ´original sin`, the snake features heavily in the assumption that a snake is somehow evil, and therefore untrustworthy. The Bible clearly defines the role of the snake as one of a malevolent and cunning creature, twisting truth ´til it is unrecognisable. But what if anything did this have to do with my feelings about its relevance in my journey ?

The walk was very relaxing, I soon caught up with a few of the group from the last evening, and walked for a while with Sacramento. A Spanish lady, widdowed, with time on her hands, like me, to follow her dreams. We talked at length about how our realities had become what we had once only dreamed of, some years ago. She had herself travelled extensively over the past few years, to places that had had an attraction to her, now that she had the time and the opportunity. I recounted my own euphoria, of only a week or so ago, when I realised that I was indeed living the life I was born to live. I had ´become`, or at least felt as though I had become, the ´World Adventurer` I had wanted to be. My other dream was to become a writer. Now, this is my reality !!! Obviously, I have yet to ´become` a published author of a book, but now I trust the Universe to grant me this reality too, if I live in harmony with my choices. Yes, of course I have had to make some sacrifices to achieve this begining of my journey towards that goal, But I feel on top of the world with my present reality...

Arriving at the gate to the city of Merida, a huge arched rail bridge, began the confusion of the way. Few clearly defined arrows, led to us getting lost for a while. We stopped for a refreshment and to ask the way, the Australian girl insisted on buying us all a drink, but I turned down the Amber nectar, in favour of the local Mahou. Paco the Ex-police officer found us our way to the Roman bridge crossing the river. It was a very long low bridge, I guessed that the Romans had realised the river levels didn´t change that much here.

We were looking for the Albergue named surprisingly, ´Pan caliente` (Hot bread). The name gave me the idea of a warm welcome, rewarding rest and solace from the journey, and some hot food in our bellies.
What we got however, was a locked door and no warm reception from our travels. Paco took charge as was his way, and rang the number scribbled on a note hanging from the door. He spoke to someone, who came staggering along to greet us fifteen minutes later. It was then that I knew why I had been thinking about the ´omens`. This guy, for whatever reason, oozed a very real and unfriendly aura. A snake in a mans body, his eyes furtive, his behaviour hidden and cunning. Now as I previously said, I try not to judge, only observe what I see and feel. Here was someone attempting to test me at this. From the very begining of his arrival, he had tried to lure us off to someplace to eat, well before we had even gotten into the Albergue and set ourselves to rest. He kept insisting that we go with him. Fortunatley a few of the group had also sensed this oddness, and like myself, resisted this coersive behaviour. Because we wouldn´t go with him, he tried to tell us that we had to leave our bags outside. What was this guy on about ? We are the pilgrims for whom this Albergue is open, are we not ?

Later I set off to see the Amphitheatre, and Roman theatre, a well known and very well preserved site. I have to say that I was really impressed by the Romans for their ingenuity and design styles. The feeling of sadness however, filled me as I sat observing the silence in the once cruel, bloody arena of death. Oh yes, you could almost hear the raised ghost voices of the baying crowds, as down below the blood curdling screams of slaves being torn apart limb from limb by the Lions, and Gladiators, were echoeing skyward........
History seemingly has taught us little about sparing one another cruelty, as I thought of our present world. How someone could enjoy the death of another human being, or animal, in such an environment was beyond my comprehension. But I left having enjoyed the experience to go back in time for a while. Seemingly Merida had been a point of great interest to the Romans in thier campaign to rule the world, as they once had. The historical significance lost on me, as I only felt the thread of death, coming from every place I walked. I thought of the odd feeling I had gotten whilst walking earlier. I had seen a stork, still whole but dead at the side of the main hyway. Now sitting here in the main plaza, infront of the townhall building, I spied another, very much alive in its nest on top of the facade. Funny, I had been told that they had all left on their winter migration to Africa, this one possibly had missed the boat.
The stork, a symbol I supposed of new life, new birth, the bringer of babies, was in contrast to my feeling of death in this place. Strange omens once more opening my eyes to things changing. And then, as before, so many times here on my present camino, a feeling arose, that I was waiting for a new connection.

That was the moment I looked up and a friendly face was smiling back at me. Tim was a young guy from down under, and I invited him to sit at the table I was sharing with Catherine the 72 year old German walker, and take a drink with us. Catherine had an arrangement to meet Hanns, her walking partner, so excused herself, wishing us a plesant evening.

"I was expecting you", I said.

"Were you ?" his reply.

"In a way, but Ill explain later, just glad you got here".

Like me Tim had followed an odd route to arrive on the Via de la Plata, and we shared stories about the way so far, in all its painful glory. He was also very encouraging about my book Idea, and it transpired that he was also attempting to write a book during his travel adventure. What an amazing coincidence. (Not) He told me that he had himself read a book written about the Camino, published by an Australian ex diplomat, that had figured heavily in his desire to come to walk across Spain. His job had been in the News paper business, and I realised that he would probably be a good source of ideas about publishing my own. If not directly, indirectly his experience would no doubt prove useful in my aims to become a published author. Also like me, like most of us who came to walk the Camino, he was dealing with the inner road to clarity. I sincerely hope that my encouragement and words, helped to open his heart and mind wider, to more wonderful paths yet to follow, of understanding and enlightenment, on the road to Santiago. I have to say a great big thanks to Tim, for his encouragement, and to ´My` Santiago, for his continued wisdom.
Then came John, the ´other` English pilgrim, who had just finished his Camino for this year here in Merida. He comes every year to do a part of the Via de la Plata, as his time allows. Together we went to eat at a place recommended by John, and spent a very pleasant evening recounting our tales of heroism and suffering, and the whole of life too.
Back at the hot bread Albergue, tensions were getting heated (No bread available) as some pilgrims (No names mentioned, You know who you are) were also feeling the negative vibe from the Hospitalero.

´Come on children, get into bed now, and cut out the talking`.

I`LL CATCH YOU UP

Staying here in Villafranca, was a lovely way to relax. There was not a typical Albergue here, a few hotels and a pension.One hostal, that had four beds per room, similar to the normal routine had space, and a kitchen, washing machine internet facility and great hot water showers. Everything and more a pilgrim could need. It was however one of the more pricey of venues to date but not absurdly high. During the afternoon out shopping, searching for somethings to make a meal back at the hostal, I met the Australian girl again. She like most of us had begun alone, but gotten caught up in the movement of walking in a group, where the people all seemed to follow a similar rhythm, and by nightfall all arrive to the same town. We joked about how she kept finding me turning up where she also happened to be !! I promise I was not stalking her !! Funny, I thought it was my aftershave that kept drawing her to me......

We returned to the hostal together with our provisions and the idea to put together a small meal, talking about how everyone today had seemed disjointed in their arrival times andd eating patterns, which had made it almost impossible to organise a group meal. A few of the group must have also had the same thought because all of a sudden there were lots of people with stuff to prepare, so we did almost have a group meal. Everyone shared waht we had and soon the wine was flowing and the beer uncapped. By sunset the small group, sharing our meagre provisions watched the sun setting, out on the open patio. Again this was a lovely trigger for my memories of eating with the Kings of Leon, and new pilgrims, so many times on the road to Santiago.

By the time I rose in the morning everyone had gone, set off on the long hike across the plains. Only Carl remained. He was a Dutchman, and for some reason seemed to have walked so many caminos, including parts of France, Germany, Rome, and even some of Morroco. Up to now he claimed to have walked some 2500km`s, and was presently walking like me, to Santiago. One thing was obvious, he liked walking !!! Unlike most of the other pilgrims he seemed happy to walk only in jeans and a teeshirt, I presently needed the feel of cool air around my legs, the days were very warm. After setting out finally we met in a bar opposite, for the constitutional coffee. He liked about three or four before he set off for the day, and I also sensed that he wanted a bit of solitude, so said I would possibly see him sometime later in the day. As I headed off, he shouted after me, " I`ll catch you up !"
I wondered if he was some kind of speeding bullet, my rhythm was quite strong at the moment. I did like to take a few breaks during the walk to appreciate the nature around me, whenever the mood took me. If the scenery was particularly breathtaking I would sit for a while to breath it all in.
I made sure I carried some provisions with me today, as apparently there was a national strike. In fact I had almost taken the day off in support, when the hostal owner told me about the huelga general. Apparently it was a national walkers strike.... Isobel later clarified that she had meant it was a national workers strike, her English pronunciation throwing me into some confussion.....

During the morning walking, I seemed to catch, and overtake all the pilgrims from the previous evenings  accomodations. My bag the heaviest it had been for a long time, yet my pace somehow the fastest I had ever walked. Not that my particular desire had been to walk in a hurry, but I was like the TGV, cruising across the caminos of Extremadura. Carl later told me that he had intended to catch me up, but could only find a cloud of dust whipped up as I screamed through the heart of the Sierra Grande. I arrived early afternoon in Torremejia, surprisingly full of energy after such a speedy walk, covering some 30 plus km`s in record times. Only the Older German couple had arrived ahead of me, they would set out at dawn.
This facility like so many others was very plush, Apparently the former residence of some Marquessa of the region. As you expect it carried some of the character of the old days, and lots of pilgrimage symbols, as well as many of the luxuries of modern living. Thanks to good old European funding we pilgrims were able to wallow in luxury for hardly anything.

Whether because of the strike or just a local lack of interest, there were no restaurants open this evening. The huge band of pilgrims had to make do, with a few tapas and bocadillos in cafe Casa Blanca. But despite such meagre choices, everyone found something to eat, and we soon retired to the Ritz for our well earnt rest.

PEGGY COCK

The previous day having been spent in the cybercafe typing, had left me with a headache. They only had artificial lighting in the room and it had the affect of bluring my vision. I spent the morning partly typing, partly listening to Klaus, who was such a lovely guy. He had plenty to talk about, I got the feeling that like me, he needed this chance to share his thoughts, with someone who knew what the experiences were that he had had, and could possibly share some enlightenment as to their meanings. (I have no idea why he was asking me.) we seemed to talk a lot about relationships, particularly, ones that had begun on the Camino. We had both had this experience. One or both of us had followed one or more relationships since our beginings of camino experience. I had to reflect somewhat, as my own thoughts returned to last spring. So many great adventures, and so many new camino friends. The love shared between some of those aquaintances as ever alive, sharing messages of support and friendship, even a camino reunion last autumn in Bavaria, with three of the four ´Kings of Leon`. And without doubt, these relationships were what the camino became all about. I wrote some poems during that camino, as a way of remembering the experiences, and my responses to them. (blog still active) As you can read, some of the people I had met feature heavily in my own camino, and they became ímmortalised in literature, beacause of their part in changing my view of the world in which we all live. I really hope I have done these wondeful people an honour, by this memorial.....

Klaus had discovered, by chance, a very odd set of scenarios he needed to work through, and one of his ´Camino loves` had helped in this endeavour immensly. But largely, this was what was holding him back. He found that his thoughts had not yielded a totally fruitful harvest. I hope that I was able to shead some light on the burden he carried, over choices he had made then, despite two people having been involved. We swapped contact details, as Klaus was readying to leave, I was going to miss him. But of course I have my own rhythm, and he had his camino to walk. I am sure we will remain friends, people like Klaus are hard to come by. Hugs and best wishes declared, I set off back to the grind of typing, Klaus set sail on the oceans of change, towards Santiago, ahead of me.

Staying the extra night in Zafra had been a good choice, a wonderful rest for me. Of course here were new pilgrims coming to the Albergue, and as ever they were a varied bunch of people. Too many to name, but surely some of the people to become important in my camino from here onwards. The present camino for me, I hoped would take in a wider view than before. Not only did I want pilgrims to be the ones I met, but local people too, people who witnessed this passing of strange folk through their cities and towns. I wanted to know what it meant to them to be hosts to such travellers. I had the pleasure to meet, and spend time chatting with, a young courting couple, who noticed me as a pilgrim and began asking lots of questions. Antonio and Maria Jose made a lovely couple. He an open minded young Spanish guy, she a talented, pretty young Spanish woman. I have to say that talking with them, reminded me about what my camino should show. Not just about the love and kindness of people trecking across the countryside, but the way in which for centuries the local populations have lived with the passage of wierd folk, who cover huge distances daily on foot. Antonio and Maria Jose, to me, were the epitomy of the openness of this nation. They showed me a care and friendship, that is lost in so many european cities, towards immigrants, or people passing through. I was asked so many things, and hope that I was able to be clear and relevant to the interest showed, hopefully setting seeds of consideration to the young people of Zafra. Maria Jose, who could read English reasonably well asked if she could have my Blog address. It was both my pleasure and wish to them both that they one day might follow their own camino, to find out first hand what this camino was about, and the joy to be found following the ´Way`.

Surprisingly, as I had been one of the last to rise, I seemed to one of the first to actually leave the Albergue. This was another of the five star accomodations provided by the Junta de Extremadura. The day was cool, but temperatures were likely to rise, by mid morning. strangely the track seemed to head off almost towards the sun, which at this time of the morning signified an Easterly direction. I began a climb into the hills outside of Zafra, and soon tuning more Northward, I felt happier. As I was passing through the next village, Los Santos de Maimona, I met up with a pilgrim who, as yet I had not had the pleasure of meeting. Peggy all the way from South America, was a young  and vibrant pilgrim, who drew me to her peacefulness immediately. We walked together for a few hours before finding ourselves in a small town, and stopping for refreshments. I remarked on how her name didn´t sem to be typically from her region of the world. She explained that some time during the 1960`s there had been a beauty queen from her country, named Peggy Cock. Her farther had been very enamoured with this pagent winner, and thus named his daughter in that memory. I had thought to myself at the time, surely Peggy Cock had not been as lovely as the pilgrim Peggy. Funny how some people choose the names of their children. Walking with Peggy was another of those fabulous experiences as we shared stories, talking a lot about following peaceful routes in life. Oddly enough my friend had left her job recently, as things did not seem to hold the same value to her anymore. A familiar story to me also. Taking some time out of her ´normal` life, to rest her body and her mind, had been what she had decided to do, though walking the kind of distances she wanted to do, would hardly give her body much rest. I sensed a bouyancy about her, desperate to share her passions. When we arrived in Villa franco de los barros, I deceided to stay, Peggy wanted to go on, as she had a plan to cover a lot of road before she stopped for the night. We had our drink together, and then hugged our goodbyes. Despite the blisters that we all get in the begining, she still wanted to move on, it was only early afternoon. She said that she didn´t expect to meet again on this camino, as her rhythm was strong, strangely I felt that we would definately see one another again. The pain would get her for sure, no-one can keep that pace up, I knew from my own trials. I wished her well despite this knowledge, and she set off along the road. Having been the victim on several occaisions of my own stupidity, I knew that despite the will of the mind, the body, untrained could not take this kind of punishment. It needed time to immunise itself to this type of regular activity, before setting huge challenges.
I set myself up, under a tree in the town square, in the shade, just besides the church. I was ready for siesta, and also found this to be a great way to soak up the energy and mood of  towns and villages I passed. Incredibly easy to feel their rhythm this way, even with my eyes closed. In fact, possibly because of this !!

ROAD TO ZAFRA

Without a guide book I rely on either other pilgrims, local people or the hospitaleros of the Albergues to find out all about the following days walk. It makes for interesting travel, though I do recomend a guide book, for those of you who are not able to go where the wind blows. I had an idea that I was in for a 20km walk to Zafra. Being a Sunday, things were closed, no-one working except a few local farmers. Antonio my host popped in to the house, busy looking for some tools he needed, he was preparing for a festival next week. He was surprised to see that I was still at the house, but happy as ever to wish me the complimentary ´buen Camino`. I finally got my bag packed and headed across the square, to have my breakfast with Matea. She was smiling bright and so chatty, as a grandmother should be, with time to spare she kept me entertained until I was ready to leave. She told me that she had seen other pilgrims pass through already this morning, so I might get to see some new faces.

The way was reletively easy for a change, now my feet were healing faster, and I even considered going back to Arcos to finish that part to Sevilla. But no, I will leave that for the end of my Camino, when I will be walking stronger. I had other reasons I wanted to go South again aswell. Some strange Magic had been working since the begining and I felt that it might be where my destiny lay. Here and there I was begining to see the first of the vines that grew here in Extremadura. Such changes over so few days, the terrain much more level here. After a couple of hours, I spied an odd sight, well rare. Another pilgrim, Wahey !! It took me about   45 minutes to catch them up, but chatting again was such a good thing. Elisabeth, a French walker, was very happy to oblige me, with an hour or so of her time. Later I sensed that she needed some privacy, so excused myself and left her to some solitude, and her blisters were holding her back too. I forged ahead through the railtrack cemetry and into Zafra alone. I had previously seen one other pilgrim ahead on the road in the distance, possibly the older gentleman that Matea had told me about. It was bit of a new experience for me, so used to seeing so many pilgrims on the Camino Frances, being spoilt for choice so to speak..

Upon arrival  into Zafra, a lovely large town, I found that the Albergue here had opening times, so sat relaxing, whilst I waited for the end of the siesta period. When 5pm finally arrived, I was greeted by a young lady, pleased to see her second pilgrim of the day. Tabitha spoke a little English, though she was very shy to use it. Seemingly though, I had misunderstood the sign, which was for another building entirely, she had been open all the time, I had just needed to ring the bell..... Durghhh... Still it was a beautiful Albergue, one of the nicest, such luxury for us poor pilgrims. I soon set off to discover the town, and explore the architectural delights.

I had a feeling that I needed to wait for some reason, so found a bench in the park I had passed through earlier, watching the world go bye. Sure enough, after a few minutes had passed, a lone pilgrim passed behind me, missing the arrows, few as they were, clearly unsure as to where he needed to be. Lucky for him, I knew where the Albergue was, and he happily accepted my help to guide him there, via the short route. Klaus, a German pilgrim, of a similar age to myself, was a breath of fresh air. We soon found that we had so much in common and could share a humorous tone. Once he had checked in we set off to find somewhere we could both eat, and spent the whole evening sharing our tales of the Camino our journeys so far, and laughing ´til our sides ached. It was so good to laugh like this, a release of pent up frustrations with aching limbs and tired feet. Klaus had started his camino in Sevilla, but had also walked the other Camino, though earlier this year, and like me was keen to do another. He had returned a week or so ago and set out to reach Santiago before the bad weather was due. I had no idea what he meant by this, the climates had been good to me so far. We also found much to talk about our individual missions, and I soon realised we were of a similar creed with regards following the way of a peaceful warrior. Back finally at the Albergue, with two minutes to spare ahead of the curfew, we both were happy to get into bed and sleep off the effects of so much merriment (wine) with our meal.
Trying to get into the top bunk when you are pissed is not a clever thing to do, nor let it be said, quiet !!
Fortunately the other pilgrims were already asleep soundly.

LAID TO REST

As is my custom now, I set off a little later this morning, but not on the Camino. Not yet at least. I planned to get a morning of typing in, at the local cyber cafe. The internet at the Albergue being painfully slow, and the library computers were broken. They are supposed to be getting them fixed, sometime before next year !!!
The cyber cafe was not very expensive but you do have to put up with the Spanish kids jostling you whilst they played their internet games, and making a huge racket. So headphones on, and a mamouth 3 hour typing shedule ahead. At about 2.30 pm, happy with the progress of my story, I left Fuente de cantos on a huge 6 km hike, to Calzadilla de los Barros. I had heard that there was a hostel there, on the main road passing the town. Sometimes strange things happen when you make plans. Often they happen even if you don`t make any !!!
The walk was easy for a change, no great pains or pressure to arrive or keep the pace going. I had by now realised it was Saturday, the amount of kids in the Internet cafe, meaning there was no school. I passed into the village during siesta time and out the other side, in the direction of the hostal. Hostal los Rodriguez was closed but boy was I happy to arrive there and find a nice shady terrace. By the look of the place, they were not going to be open for business today or in the near future. There was some work being done inside, by the look of the interior. So what now ? I was close to the bus stop. I could go back to Fuente, or forward to Zafra. This would depend also on whether a bus was running today, and when. I set a couple of plastic terrace chairs opposite each other, sat down and had a little prayer with the Universe before taking a snooze.
Soon, a car pulled up infront and the owner got out. That is the owner of the hostal. I asked him if there was any chance of me staying over, if I could have a bed for the night. No, was the simple answer ! He didn`t seem keen to talk, or entertain my questions. Ok I get it. You`re closed for reformations and don`t want or need my money or to give me any assitance whatsoever. Fine !! Fair enough !!
I set off back to the heart of the village, surely there would be someone nice here.
Something about the way the road to the left of the church seemed brighter, left me feeling this the way to go. Sure enough, as I walked alongside the church, as I had suspected, a lady called out to me from her window. Now I am not accustomed to being called out to from strange women, but the tone of the woman was kind and sincere. It became apparent that she was the person I needed to see to get the keys to the youth hostel/Albergue. She was the person sent by the universe to assist me. Thankyou universe..
Matea, a lovely grandmotherly lady, soon whisked me into her home and said that she would happily house me here if I prefered. Of course I prefered.... We agreed a contribution, and she began showing me around the place. Soon her husband returned and I was introduced to Antonio. It appeared that they ran the local bar in the centre of the village, behind the village hall. Antonio was also a very welcoming gentleman. we sat together for a while watching old western movies and later a bullfight, being televised from a local town. Oh yeah the bull got the first Matador, right in the leg, and he had to leave for the hospital once he had killed the bull. Shame !!!
Various grandchildren and cousins, popped in whilst Antonio and I snoozed on the couch. Soon Matea informed me that she needed to return to work, the bar opened at 7pm. I showered and set off to find the bar, where she was setting a place for me to eat. It was a delightful meal, too filling infact, I couldn`t manage a desert.
Back in my room, (they had just given me the keys to their house) I found the night passed quickly. The room was cool, like a tomb, with no windows. I noticed the depth of the walls was almost one and a half meteres thick. I thought that I was in a bank vault. I soon fell asleep, dreaming of finding true love, living my dream to be a writer and of reaching Santiago de compostela. Oh and helping to change the world !!!!!

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH

I woke to find the room was a mess, my bag turned out, stuff everywhere. I had been unable to unpack with any orderliness, as I had been feeling so poorly. Of course after yesterdays early exit, I had no intention of repeating the same, and I was running out of fresh underwear ! But the queasiness was not yet over, so I hung quietly in my descision to leave in a hurry. The brandy had helped, considerably. If I was sick, at least I couldn`t remember it ! The walk, a mamoth 20km`s was enough to scare me, but only because of my fragility. The previous week or so ago, I had been doing crippling 40km hikes. Oh yes, I do remember well that stupidity. Finally at around 9 am, I had fought to rise, pack and consider a coffee.

The Puerta del Sol, over which I had watched the sun setting last evening, was now in full swing, a huge local bar with patios full of people. I dared to to take coffee and orange juice, though the combination seemed somehow wrong, this morning. I mingled for a while, watching with keen interest the proffessionalism of the two bar staff. They seemed to intuit what the customers wanted. I saw no-one waiting for anything more than a brief moment. Smiling and cordial, they set the atmosphere for a relaxed breakfast, though no food passed my lips. I really hated being sick, especially with 20 km`s to walk.

Once out on the road, I soon found a rhythm even if it was slow. Fleece on, to avoid the chill, though the skies were relatively clear and the temperatures climbing. I twas a particularly lovely stretch along the riverside, between walls and fences of different forms. A s I mounted one of the early hills, I could see the town of Fuente de Cantos, out on the horizon. It looked so big, and so far away. I remember looking down over the city of Burgos, in a similar way last May. And, thinking as now, ´Yeah, I`ll do that in a couple of hours`. It took me, more like four. This terrain though hilly, did have a very open plan aspect. I rested on the hill for a while, realising that no-one, except me, cared if I stayed or walked, and so I stayed. Watching nature and letting my eyes and ears, readjust to her secret messages, the bugs and birds telling me strange things. An incredible feeling it is, not to have to go anywhere, or ring anyone. I walked on later and came to a river, that had quite a wide aspect in places, particularly where we needed to cross. There was not much in the way of crossing points for people (who wished to keep their feet dry) the cattle obviously didn`t have a worry over this. So I set my pack down, and set about rectifying this problem. Of course the pilgrims who passed this way ahead of me, had not found it to be a problem, no-one was camped out here awaiting my rescue. Even so, I had decided to try to construct something pilgrim friendly, for those to follow, so they could enjoy quick passage across the river.

I had a thought. The Camino is very much like this, about learning to build bridges. Between people, and nations. Whilst of course I realised a large percentage of pilgrims had some kind of religious viewpoint, mainly Catholic, the rest of us came for the wonderful peace and unity being laid down between peoples, who often found it difficult to communicate with one language. Being able to speak a relative amount of Spanish, gave me an advantage, but seemingly, everyone, even people from afar afield as Japan and Korea, found a way to get understood, despite few words of Spanish. Of course English, my native tongue, was the second most spoken language on the camino, but at times even that couldn`t beat, good old fashioned hand gestures.

I have made known before, just what I would wish for the world of ´Mankind`.  That the leaders, of the first world, come on the Camino frances, so they can themselves feel the spirit of unity and brotherhood seen here. We can do with much more feeling of brotherhood in our world at this time. So many attempts have been made. It has been such a long time since Bandaid, and still we haven`t brought about a workable solution to the poverty of the biggest part of the planet. All credit to Sir Bob Geldhof, Sir Bono, and Midge Ure and all the associated artist who helped in that venture, bringing shame of  the  situation to the worlds attention. Bad form, from the leaders of the world and the finacial institutions for not doing everything within their powers to put an end, once and for all to poverty. We don`t have to believe their words, when they say its not possible to end poverty, we know it is ! The planet, (Mother nature) produces enough food for more than the population now alive, and that is if we all ate like greedy people. The only real problem is, that we don`t share that food with each other. WHY ? So some big fat boss can have more of the huge profits, when keeping the prices artificially high. And then there is the tradgedy, that we would rather destroy this food, than give it away. Diabolical logic and reason, from a society that says we are civil. Shame on all of us  who support such unfairness!!!

But with my bridge (stepping stones) built, I felt as though I had begun my quest to do something positve in the world. I set off, pleased with my ingenuity. After another hour or so I passed a newly built villa, called ´Villa Camino de Santiago`. It looked like it should have been an Albergue, there was apool and lots of comfortable outdoor seating areas, in which to relax. It was locked of course, so not open for business, if in fact it was an accomodation and not just a lovely home. There were two signs at the gate, mounted on the wall. One pointed backwards towards Sevilla, at 114 km`s. The other, the less attractive one, pointed towards Santiago de Compostela at 889 km`s, still to go. A thoughtful touch !!! And a reminder of course, of just what a long way it was ´til the destination.

I hadn`t seen a soul all day, and finally a tandem bicycle arrived just as I was approaching one of the many reserve gates. The lady on the rear of the bike, opened the gate to pass through, and I closed it behind us. Teamwork. I recognised immediately that they were not from the locality, but from somewhere in the U.S.A. The couple, Scott and his wife Barbara, were from Massachusetts. They were taking in the scenery, planning to do the journey over about a month. I enjoyed the chance to chat with someone in my own language, even if our meeting was brief. We swapped blog addresses, and said our goodbyes, I watched them cycle away.
As they sey of, I thought that they had made an error, they went on the track to the right. But they were already a long way off, so pointless shouting them. The cubes, with green tiles went to the left. I set off in that direction noticint the footprints of many others ahead of me. Soon I noticed that there were no longer any yellow arrows along this route. OOPS ! But sure enough the prints of pilgrims were on the track. What ? I knew that I was possibly the last person to have left Monestario this morning, so not expecting anyone to be following me today, so assumed that these were the prints of the spanish group and the Austrian girl. Eventually I concluded that an error had been made, so I cut diagonally across country to where I imagined I should have been by now. I found a gate in the corner of the reserve, and the familiar yellow arrows. Phew !!!
Saved, I breathed a sigh of relief. Later that evening, whilst eating in a restaurant with the Spanish group, they admitted that they had also made the same error, though they had gone all the way back to the previous signs, and added about 5 km`s to their day. I said to them, " No wonder that I got lost, I was following your footprints in the sand" !!!

By the time I found the Albergue, I was feeling less sick and nauseous. I needed a rest though, and this accomodation was one of the best I`ve seen so far, ever. It was super luxury for pilgrims. Like being at a 5 star hotel. set in the grounds of some old monastery the old buildings had been rejuvenated  to a very high standard, and helped travellers such as myself to unwind from the stresses of walking, getting lost and the heat.
So the day ended with my health being restored, and my determination to build more bridges, over the days and weeks to come.

A DAY FOR GRACE.

Having spent an extra day in El real de la Jara, meant that I could spend the whole day typing my story on to the blog, both morning and evening. How I suffer to bring you all news...!!
The town has a fantastic facility for the local people and it is also accesible to us pilgrims, all absolutely free !!
Hard to find, but if you ask a local young person, you`ll soon find it. Set behind the local DIA supermarket, on the way out of town to the west. It is a fully equiped Information and Technology suite provided for the community by their local council. A young guy by the name of Ricardo, was ultra helpful with my needs to use the terminals in the afternoon. I had to wait a little bit of time, ´til the local kids had done their facebook stuff. But well, fairs fair, it is their IT suite ! I managed typing with slow hands to get up a few of the chapters. I just hope it has been worth it. Are you still reading or have you fallen asleep yet ?
The trouble with "Live" stories, is that they have to reflect, (as far as possible) the actual timeframe of the journey. Where is my secretary when I need her ? Painting her nails , no doubt !!!!

My day began early for a change. I was the first pilgrim to leave, on the 20km hike. ( Wow, Breaking records too ) Ahead of the Spanish pilgrims, who were walking with Karin the Austrian girl. I even beat out the door, the two French women with who´m I had slept the night. Madeleine and Marianne teachers of Spanish who were doing just part of the Camino, who were up early, still had not gotten ready by the time I fled the Albergue. It was dark as I stepped out into the street, and I quickly realised that it would be the first day I would need a coat. Now a little rain doesn`t put me off, but the weather reports had forecast that almost the whole of Spain was to recieve its fair share of inclement weather today. A light drizzle at the begining, heavier later. I had to come back into the Albergue to retrieve my coat from the neatly packed rucksack, and that was when I noticed my book, ´this one`, on the table just inside the door. Damn, I must have left it their since last night when I had been catching up the story so far before bed. I must have gotten distracted.
What luck !!!
"What a pity", I hear you all saying.......!!!!

Well, here we are, the Universe yet again looking out for me.

Leaving the village, passing the Medi-evil castle was quite a spooky feeling. Then after another km or so there was a second, smaller and partly delapidated castle to my right. It was still dark, but daylight was just peeking into the world, a backlight to the ruins. I acted out, a scene from the ´Highlander` movie, where Sean Connery gets his head cut off by the Kurgan. Well I had to do something, there were noises all around me and I could hardly see anything. I considered using the strobe torch, but fought the fear bravely !
Anyway, why did an old castle have a satelite dish on its walls ? Ok. yeah, thats just some plants growing from the walls.
Something loud, very loud, suddenly moved, just behind the wall I was passing. I thought it was a wolf, or a bandit. Thankfully it was neither, and being still dark, my shorts didn`t reveal my shame !!!
What was I doing ? Previously I had been pontificating about the joys of walking alone for the benefit of great experience. But now I was begining to doubt the wisdom of that rhetoric.
Very soon, within two kilometres, I was out of Andalucia, and into, Extremadura. The road here was noticably flatter. A recently laid track, gave no problems to walking as the darkness finally lifted, and a beautiful wet morning emerged.
So what does a pilgrim do, when there is no-one to talk to, and the noises of the night creatures has not yet ceased ?
PRAY !!!
Oh yes, believe you me, I began praying !! And singing !!
The two things combined, soon had me out of my shell and fearless once more. And of course, there are things to be thankful for. My new niece, Grace. A recent addition to the family, what a cute smiley baby...
She had been born with a seemingly common, and treatable, hip placement condition. She will have to wear a velcro brace to keep her hips in the sockets as they mature. (It could be as short as two months or as long as eight months, before the brace can be removed ) Of course not a life threatening condition, thankfully, I spent some time remembering her cute face, and her tiny fingers, wrapped around my own sausage fingers. Was I getting broody ? I prayed that little Grace, would grow up healthy, able to enjoy all that life had to offer, as I, and the freedom to make her choices.
For the last few years, I had finally realised, that I could have choices. Or that the choice to do or not do, was actually mine to make. Why had it taken me so long, to figure it out ? Possibly my Asbergic nature, possibly stubbornness. I had religiously followed the laws and directions passed down to me, without ever really asking why I followed them. Why do I do, what I do ? What makes me tick ? How do I fit into this crazy puzzle of this topsy turvy world ? How do I make a difference ? And how, do I make my life count for something ?
Here walking the Camino, I had been getting a subtle clue, both last year on the Camino Frances, and now on my present Camino.
Relationships, sharing, and being true to myself !!!!

I know that in the past I have let myself down terribly, and often. Being an abuser, a thief, and a selfish man. But here and now, taking other, observably better choices, I was being born again. Free of the hypocrysy, from my former existence, times were not always easy, but they were far more rewarding.

As Gandhi once said, " Be the change you wish to see in the world."
What a great, yet simple truth.

John Lennon wrote, " IMAGINE, all the people, living for today."

Mohamed the prophet said, " The most excellent Jihad is that for the conquest of self."

Jesus, the best known historical figure of all time, is reported to have said, " No greater laws are there than these two. Love god with your whole soul, mind and vital force, and love your neighbour as yourself."

So whatever religion or faith, ideology we were born into, we, YES WE, are the pioneers of its continued truth.

I was trying to create a song, out into the universe also, which would not only convey my personal view of how to change things, starting with myself, but also to win the heart of one special lady. And so I passed the few early hours of the way, until the Autostop motorway services. I had walked I guessed around about two hours, so possibly half the way to Monestario. I needed a toilet break and a refreshment. Following from here onward, was very much more as I remembered the other Camino, with tracks alongside the main roads, and often using roads left redundant because of the new hyways. It was raining harder now and I struggled  to keep focused into the distance. The smell of the Eucalytus trees reminded me of Gallicia in the northwest corner of Spain.
Following up, what I later realised was the hill climb into Monestaio, I gained a new pilgrim companion. A small white dog with a patch over one eye ( not an actual eye patch, like captain Hook). A Jack Russel type of dog, that made no threatening moves, but loved the fuss as I rubbed him behind the ears. I don`t know where he came from, but he was as welcome as anyone to accompany me for a while. He carried one of his front legs off the floor, unless he was sprinting, it appeared that one of his toes was broken. He seemed happy to both trot alongside me and also to sprint into the distance checking the way for me. Oh and he came back for plenty of tickling behind the ears. He was certainly living up to his creed, mans best friend.
"What´s your name little fella ?"  I asked.
He looked at me with a curious eye, his head cocked to one side.
"Emilio," was his reply, though his lips never moved. Then he trotted off ahead, and I wondered what had just happened.
Soon I spied a man, at a small Cortijo, he had began throwing rocks at my friend. I asked him what was the matter ? I could see he felt pretty stupid, as he asked if the dog was mine.  I explained that my friend was accompanying me along the road to Santiago, but was a free agent and could go where he pleased. He was amiable and not at all threatening, he had been a great companion. The man said that he thought that the dog would attack his goats. I was stunned by the lack of real understanding of some people. The farmer, a true simple man, of course was looking out for his goats and other animals. But the dog had not even raised an angry voice against the flock, nor approached them. The dog was scared to pass the man now, and stood on the track watching me as I climbed the hill. He observed me for a long time `til I finally waved him goodbye, passing the crest of the hill.
"Goodbye little friend," I called down to him.
I had notions of Santiago, and the pay attention to the omens comment from some days ago. The words continually running through my head. What was the omen here ?
Strangely, over quite a few months, I have not had any dreams. But here on the Camino I have been having some very vivid and lucid dreams, without any explanation. I could wake remembering great detail. yet understanding precious little. A gun, a betrayal, a reunion with an old relationship. What could it all mean ?
When I finally arrived at the Hostal, no Albergue available here, I was tired cold and wet, and seriously in need of a bath. I have to apologise here, to the very patient man running the hostel for not kicking me up the street. My manner was a little odd and I tried to be polite, but my diction was confused and disjointed, using all the wrong words to explain myself. He still showed me to a lovely room.
I woke later to the sound of more pilgrims arriving at the hostel. I had obviously been very tired, but was now feeling very strange indeed. I felt sick, possibly the rain had given me a chill, walking with only my coat over my wet tee shirt. Possibly the meal from the previous evening, hurriedly prepared at the Albergue. But I was feeling decidedly groggy. I needed some fresh air, but slowly. I was very cold even inside my sleeping bag. I dressed and set off in the direction of a local supermarket that I had passed on the way into Monestario. I needed some brandy to warm and settle my stomach. On my return, I sat in the plaza opposite the hostel, trying to get a bearing on what I should do. Bring it up or try to let the feeling just leave in due course. Finally I returned to the room, the clean, fresh air not recovering me suitably.

And so it was. Chatting with god all day, via song and prayer, I had the feeling that I was still awaiting an answer. So I decided the only option, was to give it one more try, using the big white telephone in the bathroom!!! Using my toothbrush to dial the number, soon got me my amswer.
And the brandy was a great way of recovering !!!!