Day 33, July 10th, 2023
It is still pitch dark at six this time of the year. Sometimes I have to use my phone's torch to see where I'm going. I have to admit I find it a little creepy, but then again, there aren't any stray dogs around here anymore, so what is there to be afraid of?
As a reward, I get to experience a beautiful sunrise from a hilltop.
For the first time in a while, I buy myself a bocadillo with ham. I completely forgot about the oil. Now I am sitting here in front of a huge, chewy lump of bread that I can barely bite into and that doesn't taste good at all. Hungry as I am, I still manage to eat half of it and put the rest in my food bag as an emergency ration.
31 kilometres to go until Melide. The walk is actually quite easy today, I take plenty of breaks at various cafes along the way. However, after about 24 kilometres, my left foot starts to hurt terribly, so differently than usual. This time it is not the soles of my feet, but my ankle. Unfortunately there are no more hostels before Melide, and I am too stingy for an expensive guesthouse, so I just grit my teeth and keep going.
„Solo para clientes“
Just before I reach the town, as I emerge from the woods, there is an old house on the left. A sign advertises some kind of beer, it's probably a restaurant, but it looks closed. The few chairs outside are empty and scattered somewhat haphazardly. I sit down briefly on one of the chairs to examine my ankle and take off my sock. A rustic woman in an apron comes out of the door and actually tells me I am not allowed to sit there, that it is only for customers. Buffled by this reaction, I point to my foot and explain that I am injured, but the apron-clad woman unperturbed repeats, »Solo para clientes! (Only for customers!)«, continues on to the rubbish container, and ignores me completely. I am shocked by such a lack of empathy and angrily gather my things. With my shoe in one hand and my sock in the other, I hobble barefoot away from the chairs, glaring at the woman as she returns from the rubbish container. She doesn't seem to mind at all. Oh, I am furious. How could she just chase me away? I could just as easily be seriously hurt. I probably would have even ordered a drink if she had only asked. But I believe in karma, which is kind of comforting. It is just a shame I won't be there when it happens.
I still have quite a walk to do to get to the new town, where all the hostels are supposed to be. Once there, I experience the less pleasant side of the Camino once again. It is exactly as Angela said, which is why she didn't stay here; it is hot and noisy, the streets are full of cars and lorries, and the pavements are teeming with people.
I trudge along the dusty main street, desperate to find a bed where I can rest and put my foot up. Exhausted, I sit down on the kerb edging of a flowerbed right next to a busy intersection and search my app for a hostel just outside the city. If I can muster the willpower to walk a little further, I might get lucky and get a bed in a hostel with pretty good reviews. But should I really go any further? Surely I could find a bed somewhere nearby, but it is bound to be much more comfortable further away, isn't it?
My indecisiveness and the fact that I don't really want to move at all are causing me a lot of stress right now. I would love to knock over the kerbstones and tear up the whole flowerbed, that's how dissatisfied I am. The encounter with the apron-clad woman in the wannabe restaurant completely threw me off. Then there is this noisy traffic here, plus I have run out of food!
You are not going to lose your nerve so close to Santiago, are you? Pull yourself together and get up. You have had worse pain on this journey, and the thing with the apron-clad woman wasn't that tragic, says an inner voice.
Yes, it was! Nobody chases me away like a mangy dog. I am a woman over fifty who has pain in her foot after walking thirty kilometres, and surely I should be allowed to rest briefly in my pain!
After shaking off my self-pity, I resolutely get up and head to the nearest supermarket to buy some food, then set off for the hostel with the good reviews further out of town. And what can I say? All my frustration vanishes when the very friendly receptionist tells me that yes, she does have a bed available, but would charge me an extra euro because I would be in a better room with five single beds instead of bunk beds, and which I would most likely have to myself, as she doesn't think anyone else would arrive after me.
I want to hug her, so happy and grateful I am. A quiet room all to myself, without having to climb any rungs, a dream come true.
Angela texts me the following lines as I lie exhausted and tired on my bed:
»Where are you? I am sitting in a meadow five kilometres past Melide in a strange mixture of happiness and sadness.«
I know exactly what Angela means, and I feel much the same way. On the one hand, I am glad to have made it this far, firmly convinced that I can manage the rest too. On the other hand, I don't want it to be over. The last few stages must be even more emotional for Angela, especially since she has been on the road a month longer than me. Such a shame, she is only five kilometres ahead of me, I wish I could be sitting with her in this meadow right now. I hope she doesn't run away from me, and I never see her again.
As for my supposed mosquito bites, I am now pretty sure they were bedbugs or fleas, or both. Some of the bites are close together or arranged in a triangular pattern, and they are in places where mosquitoes wouldn't normally go. But what do I do if the critters crawled into my rucksack too? That would mean I am bringing them home with me! So I am reading up on bedbugs and everything related to them, and I am glad to have an empty freezer in the cellar. Once I get home, I will freeze my rucksack there for a few weeks and hopefully get rid of this unwanted souvenir.
Then the door opens, and a young Italian man with bright blue eyes named Giuseppe comes in. A truly handsome fellow. He is wearing a pink straw hat and carries two solid branches from the forest which he uses as pilgrim's staffs. His knee is inflamed and wrapped with a thick compression bandage. We only exchange a few words as Giuseppe wants to go out again to find something to eat. And because he mentions that he wants to get up at 6:00 tomorrow, I set my alarm for 6:30 so that I can get ready in peace once he has left. With my earplugs in, I sleep soundly and don't notice when Giuseppe returns.
Distance: 32,3 km / Steps: 48176