los ángeles del 21 de mayo

Today I had a very hard day. It all started with a little egotism yesterday: I went for a massage in León and told the therapist that I'm ok with intensive massage. Ha. Maybe true at home, but not here on the camino. I walked out of there one big ache, and sleeping for 90 minutes afterwards did nothing to ease the pain. Walking to the cathedral afterward I felt some gentle twanging in the left foot. Should have gone straight to my bed, but didn't. Felt better this morning, but after about 90 minutes of walking with my compañeros and with very sore balls of my feet, I had to stop for a café con leche in Virgen del Camino. They went on, of course, they want to get to Finisterre by June 4 or so. Besides, I've left them before and caught up, so it's not like I'll never see them again. Still, I was feeling very sad and very sorry for myself. I sat outside with my coffee, my orange juice and my pastry and pulled my hat over my eyes ostensibly against the sun but really to make it less obvious that I had turned into a water fountain. That's when the camino started to speak to me.

Angel #1: a pilgrim from near Vienna who asked if she could sit at my table even though the others were unoccupied. When she came back with her coffee, she saw my face and told me she was in the same spot a few days ago, that it was ok, that I'd feel better soon and would stop hurting soon, and that I'd see my friends again. I didn't ask her name. She left before I did, but later she came up from behind me again, encouraging me to let the camino teach me about limits and to enjoy my own pace. After walking with me for a while, she stopped to put moleskin on her sore toe and I walked on.

Angels #2 and #3: I was walking with quite sore feet, but the terrain was softer so I was making better progress, and happened to catch up with Danielle and Michel, a couple from the south of France who've been on the road for weeks, started in Le Puy. They told me they had seen our mutual friends and encouraged me to keep to my own pace. Walking with them took my mind off my self-pity.

Angel #4: around 12:30 I stopped at an albergue in San Martin del Camino, wondering if I should call it quits for the day, but not really wanting to. The hospitalero told me what was in the mixed salad and I ordered it. The hospitalera who brought it to me was angel #4: the salad was a small mountain and had eggs, tuna, rice, pasta, tomatos and lettuce. She told me to sit there and eat the whole thing, that this is exactly what my body needed. She brought me a pitcher of water and big chunks of hearty bread, then kept checking on my progress. After a while she asked if I wanted a glass of wine, on her. Really exactly what I needed. The break finished off with yet more comfort because Richard called just when I was finished eating, and then Ed called as I was walking out of the village.

Angel #5: the misery of the day was incomplete without a nice downpour, but that happened a few minutes after I left the village. I found partial shelter under a tree until the worst of it passed, but by then my pants (that's right, I came without rain pants, loca that I am) were drenched. By then self-pity would have been ridiculous, especially when I saw Fernando, a pilgrim-hospitalero from La Rioja, poking his head out the window of an old barn asking if I was nuts. But I won't call him angel #5; that honour goes to the happy frogs who were singing in the creek next to the path for the remainder of the walk to the village of Hospital de Orbigo.

Angel #6: when the rain stopped and the sun came out, my quick-dry pants quickly dried in the light breeze which was playing with the leaves. The sound reminded me to breathe and to live where I was and not somewhere else.

A few hundred metres from the village Fernando from La Rioja caught up with me and laughed at the two of us walking in the rain. He might be angel #7, but that would simply be too cute or medieval, so I'll leave him out of it :-)

Now I'm sitting in a warm albergue getting ready to eat my empanada with tuna, and later my yogurt. My feet are still very sore, as are my calves and shins. Who know how things will be tomorrow, how far I'll be able to walk, but for tonight at least I'm warm and dry.