Day 19: Legidos to Sahagun

The albergue in Legidos happily adopted Edgar the crow and renamed him Fernando. He was so excited to have such attention, I wondered if he has been a pet. The pilgrims fed him more potato chips, a peach quarter, and the manager put out a large dish of water. Fernando bathed, begged, and pulled grassy bits from the courtyard pavement cracks. The managers daughter was really happy to have him and promised to keep him indoors come morning so I could make my leave without him following. He'll bring a lot of people a lot of joy, but I was a little sad to say goodbye.

A happy Camino crow finds home in Legidos .

Another day on the Meseta and many miles of unshaded trail to travel. It's easy to become absorbed in yourself: all the aches and pains that flair up during the first few kilometers. My left knee started getting sore. Though I had finally discovered a way to bandage my feet against persistent blisters, I worried  that the next rain would just cause another outbreak. A pinched nerve in my shoulder started to send twinges of pain down my arm. Far ahead I saw a woman from Denmark struggling along on a sprained ankle. Stop it, I thought! I swear, if you are anything
near a hypochondriac - don't do the Camino!

Earthen bodegas built into hills.

The more I looked the more I saw!

What snapped me out of my self-pity was a chimney sticking up through the heavy sod. One, then another, then a dozen or more rather sod homes out on the plain or built into the hills that surrounded the little villages. I stopped to ask a man walking his dog what these were. "Bodegas! Homes! Very cool in summer heat. Very warm in winter." Whoa. And here I almost missed them because I was worried about rain that wouldn't fall today...

Adobe brick and mud walls.

The character of the villages has changed. Stone is not a common building material but brick made of local clay soil and mud and straw adobe is everywhere. The heavy Romanesque churches seemed lighter in fine brick patterns and the wide wooden awnings offered deep, cool shade. I slowed down to listen to people laughing behind closed wooden shutters. A tractor roared to life in a mud-walled barn.

Wildflowers and grain.

I've made three distinct comparisons between the social landscapes of home and those that the Camino passes through here. I'm amazed to see so little trash - whether in the villages and towns, or on the remote Camino stretches. There is the usual white tissue behind every clump of heather or tree where pilgrims have not packed out their wipes or TP. Seems we are the most likely to trash the landscape. In towns and villages, though, street sweepers are proud of their work to make the calles and streets exceptionally clean. In addition, there are no fast food places, no disposable coffee cups and lids. If you want a cafe con leche, then sit down, stay a while, and drink from a ceramic cup on a ceramic saucer. Food is served on plates with silverware, no plastic, foam, paper or plastic wrapping.

A Templar's duty to protect pilgrims.

Another comparison I've made is how people don't much care for things or other distractions like we have at home. Make no mistake, homes and businesses are impeccable and modern, but one doesn't hear the constant barrage of TV, internet news, or daily gossip we are subjected to in the states. People gather for conversation, enjoy each other's company, and love chatting with pilgrims. As I passed into Sahagun, once a Templar stronghold and important granary for the Kingdom of Castille, I was stopped three times by people walking by.  "Where are you from? Will you stay and visit?"

Mud-brick home in Sahagun.

I thought about the invitation to stay and visit. How married to our schedules we become. Follow the yellow arrows and waymarkers no matter what. Make your distance before the heat. Then I saw that we pilgrims were being herded into large fenced-in walkways and kept off the streets. I asked another man walking his small dog about these fences. "Oh! The running of the bulls! You must stay to see!" I learned from a cafe owner that Sahagun's annual bull run will be tomorrow! "Please stay! I have a room upstairs for you!" I looked over at two college students from Maryland, just graduated from UMD and celebrating like I was. Callie and Beth looked at each other and said "Why not?!" I went back into the cafe, also a hostel, and said I'd like a room for two nights - completely off my schedule. "No worry! You'll get the train to Leon on Saturday and make up for your lost day."

Pilgrims behind the bull fencing!

Callie and Beth ran for the albergue across the street and checked in. I was shown to my room with a balcony overlooking the bull run street. "But you'll have a front view down here, " said the manager, "You'll want to be right on our corner to cheer on the bulls!" Hemingway is smiling.

Bull fight!

The third comparison I've made has been to notice the difference between how warm and friendly people are, no matter where I am. At home there is the suspicion of a stranger, of someone speaking another language (especially Spanish), and of others who are new to a place. I've been clucked at by old Spanish women who disapproved of a sleeveless T-shirt I was wearing. I haven't worn it since except to sleep in. But there is no fear or paranoia concerning a new face, in fact, it is an invitation to stop and chat even if two different languages are spoken, there are still the warm smiles and friendly waves.

A 200 year-old Spanish oak door to my hostel room.

Total cost for my unplanned rest day:

Room for two nights, 30 euro ( with private bathroom!)
Ticket to Leon on train, 5 euro.
Cafe meals (dinner, breakfast x 2), 20 euro.
Picnic lunch from the market, 5 euro.
Bull run, free!