Day 4, Rest day, June 11th, 2023
It's getting light. I pull out my earplugs and hear an echoing rumble from all directions from people getting ready. Around me though everyone is still asleep, including the fartman. I climb down from the bed, quietly retrieve my rucksack, and sort my things in the corridor. My pain is barely noticeable today, the rest day will do me good.
Now I see the full extent of yesterday's town festival, there is rubbish everywhere. A few people are still lingering, sitting there with their beer cups in hand. But the cleaning crews are already on site, sweeping and scrubbing like crazy to quickly make the old town beautiful again.
I am having breakfast in a café when Aki is texting that she is about to leave Larisson, and that Andrew has already left twenty minutes ago. According to her calculations, they both should be here in about three hours. So I sit down on a wall at the Frankish Gate and watch the pilgrims gradually making their way up the path.
A rather plump old woman slowly makes her way up the path with her walking sticks. She walks close to the city wall in the shade. I must have come up here in a similar way yesterday, only with a limp. I know the woman slightly, I saw her at the tortilla counter in the bar in Zubiri and spoke to her briefly. I wave to her and praise her fighting spirit. She comes over to me, and we fall into a pleasant chat. The woman's name is Donna, and she is from Texas. She speaks softly with a very strong Texan accent, I have trouble understanding everything. I guess she is eighty years old, but at least seventy-five. Donna tells me that she lives in a trailer back home and receives a pension of five thousand dollars a month, which she uses to finance wonderful trips. Why save, she says, life is far too exciting. And because she can afford it, she takes a taxi here every day to get close to her next destination and walks the last stretch. She has her luggage sent ahead and when she can't go on any longer, she simply calls another taxi. I am so moved I want to cry, because I admire her courage and her outlook on life so much. So old and still enjoying life to the fullest by traveling all over the world, all by herself. Then Donna reaches into her bag and gives me a small wooden cross. She got it from Jerusalem, and it is blessed. I promptly start crying again. What is wrong with me?
Then I see three figures down by the path. As they come through the gate, I recognise Andrew and Aki - oh, how happy I am! Trailing behind them is a somewhat drowsy-looking young man with dark circles under his eyes and arms hanging limply at his sides, his head slightly bowed. Andrew says this is Lukasz whom they met last night. I extend my hand to Lukasz whereupon he smiles hesitantly and introduces himself. Strange fellow, I think. When I look at him, I think of Mr. Bean. But when he talks he reminds me more of Sheldon Cooper from the TV series The Big Bang Theory.
Andrew, Aki, Lukasz, and I go to the café where I had breakfast earlier. Donna is doing some shopping but joins us later and even brings some freshly baked churros. I am so happy to have their company! It is just a shame that Aki definitely wants to move on today, however, I manage to convince Andrew to stay.
It is almost noon. Donna goes to her hotel, Aki continues hiking and the rest of us wait at the hostel for the doors to open. Other pilgrims soon arrive, some of whom Andrew already knows, including a certain Neill from Ireland and Tobias from Germany. At this point, I don't care which bed I get, as long as I am surrounded by all these people. In fact, beds are assigned on a first-come, first-served basis, it is not a matter of personal preference. So I get bed number one, Andrew number two, and so on. These beds are in the ground floor though, so we will unfortunately miss out on the view of the beautiful vaulted ceiling tonight, even though I had raved about it to Andrew. Never mind, I am overjoyed. Andrew is even kind enough to let me have his lower bed, because mine is once again the upper one.
Living in the moment
Tobias, Andrew, and I throw our laundry together and share a load. I don't know, but I think we haven't used the machine correctly. My clothes smell anything but fresh afterward. It is pretty disgusting in retrospect, especially when I think that the detergent might not have gone through properly, since the boys' underwear was in there too. Better not to dwell on it.
The five of us stay together for the rest of the day.
Tobias is an extreme hiker in his mid-twenties. He started his pilgrimage from his front door in Franconia and has been on the trail for seventy-two days. Tobias always sets off in the dark in the morning, walks quickly and far and then checks into the hostels early. He says this way he avoids the midday heat and can be sure of getting a bed without having to reserve one in advance. Many pilgrims do it this way but that would not work for me. I want to enjoy the day and be able to stop and relax without worrying about being late somewhere.
I actually don't know anything about Neill, except that he seems to use the word fucking in every sentence. Fucking here, fucking there, everything is fucking, albeit in a positive sense.
And then there is of course Lukasz. He is Polish and strikes me as extremely intelligent. He questions and analyses everything and only lets a topic rest when it is completely dissected. When you talk to him, he often says, »Aha, I see, interesting.« Everything is always interesting. Then he puts his hand to his chin, as if seriously considering what he has just heard. An unintentionally funny young man, whom I quickly grow very fond of.
Andrew is my person to relate to. We look after each other, help each other make the beds and make sure each other is okay. He sometimes sings a song and that goes like this:
»He holds the lantern while his mother cuts the wood! He holds the lantern and he does it really good.« -He relates this song to himself and says that he is the one holding the lantern. I hope he learns on the Camino that he can also chop wood.
Together we go for a drink and then stroll through the old town, where we sit down on a bench licking ice cream. I savour the moment and sometimes just listen to the conversation. I smile as I look around because they are all talking at once and I hear nothing but Yeeeeeh, Interesting, fucking, I see, interesting, yeeeeeeeh, fucking, fucking, fucking ….
It is an extraordinary combination of people, all so different and yet so alike in this moment. Andrew looks at me blissfully with moist eyes and says, »I don't want this to end.«
In the evening we walk around like headless chickens because we can't find anything decent to eat for supper. I just don't understand it - is there nothing but bread in Spain? It is unbelievable but we end up back in the same bar where we were sitting before! The sight of the tapas, or rather pintxos (which are basically tapas too, just presented differently), completely puts me off my food. I simply can't stomach any more bread. How I would love some fish fingers with cucumber salad and mashed potatoes right now.
