Day 10, June 17th, 2023
Once again my night is over at 4:30, because most of the others in the room have started packing and are pretty noisy.
It is still pitch black when I set off, mainly following the beams of the pilgrims' headlamps ahead of me. Of course I can't make out any yellow arrows until the sun rises at twenty to seven.
Der Weg ist eben und angenehm zu gehen, es gibt nur wenige Anstiege. Unmittelbar vor dem Ort Sansol sehe ich jemanden, der aus einem Zelt krabbelt, das mitten auf einem Acker steht, einsichtig für alle Anwohner und vorbeikommenden Leute. Der hat Nerven, ich wünschte, ich könnte das auch. Aber das ist überhaupt die Idee, ich sollte mein Augenmerk auf die Dorfwiesen richten und versuchen nicht darüber nachzudenken von dort weggejagt zu werden.
Apart from that nothing particularly spectacular happens along the way. Every now and then I see a few familiar faces as well as some new ones. A bloke named Holger strikes up a conversation with me, and I find it pleasant to speak German again. Less pleasant is the moment he extends his sweaty hand to greet me. Ugh, how disgusting, when I like to have clean hands so much! Where is the nearest fountain, please?
Speaking of fountains, they can be found all along the route and in every town. They come from various sources, some of which are historically significant, such as the Rolandsquelle spring in the Pyrenees. Over the centuries, these fountains have been built for pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago by local communities and organisations. Most provide drinking water, but there are also some from which it is best not to drink. These are usually marked with appropriate pictograms.
In a small village I rest on a bench and forget my pilgrim's staff when I leave. I quickly realise it because my hands suddenly feel so light and free. So I decide not to turn back and get it but to leave it where it is. Someone will surely be happy to have it.
The town of Viana, founded in 1219
Shortly before Logroño, I leave the province of Navarre and enter La Rioja. The area is beautiful, and the path leads directly through the wine-growing region. Here I receive what is probably the most famous pilgrim stamp on the entire Camino, the one from the Camino legend Maria Mediavilla, who until recently sat every day under the fig tree in front of her house, counting the pilgrims who passed by. She had taken over this task from her late mother, Dona Felisa, who for twenty years had been something like the gatekeeper and the loving heart of the Camino. Maria died last year, strangely enough also after twenty years. The stamp still reads "FELISA Higos-Agua y Amor" (FELISA Figs, Water, and Love). Today, a man gives me the stamp, he may be be Marias son.
A very interesting and worthwhile article about María and her mother was once published in 'Der Spiegel', a German magazine. The article is from 2009, but that doesn't matter. I have linked it > here < .
Feast in Logroño
I arrive in Logroño at one thirty in the midday heat. A thunderstorm is threatening so I can forget about camping again, as I am afraid of thunderstorms. I check into a municipal hostel which is financed by voluntary donations. Here I get proper cloth sheets today, and because I am early - after an endless monologue from the hostel manager about prayer and meal times as well as about the facilities and closing times, I can choose my bed in an 18-bed dormitory. Once I have picked my favourite spot, I grab my toiletries and join the queue in front of the shower room. Unfortunately, there are only two showers, and now it is definitely rush-hour. . Everyone wants to wash off the dirt and sweat and cool down. And right here, with the next person already waiting impatiently at the shower door, I am finding it so hard to get organised again. In such a small space where everything is already wet, there are practically no places to hang things up. Where do I put my old clothes? Where do I put my clean ones? By the way, I wish I had a proper towel or at least a bigger piece of fabric than what I have to dry myself with, which is a pathetic little washcloth. I am never really dry by the time I get dressed again. Sometimes I can't even get my clothes on over my still very damp skin.
After I have washed a few things and hung them up in the garden, I am going again somewhere I never usually go but would if the stuff wasn't so unhealthy: Burger King! Since yesterday I have been incredibly excited for a Whopper and fries! Just the thought of it makes me drool, and when the moment finally arrives and I bite into the burger, the sauce running down my chin and I fill the remaining gaps in my mouth with the salty and crispy fries, I have forgiven Spain for all its tapas, pintxos, tortillas and bocadillos so far.
Afterwards I lie sated and lazy on my bed, enjoying the atmosphere while a fierce thunderstorm rages outside. As exhausted as I am now, I feel extremely cosy, and I am glad not to be in my tent. Here I have internet, my phone battery is fully charged, my burning feet are recovering and I know I don't have to move again today. And I certainly won't. A pilgrims' mass is supposed to start at seven o'clock, and as much as I would like to go, no.
Distance: 28,2 km / Steps: 45984