Bird's-eye View

Right now I am sitting on the top, corner bunk in a large, clean and modern room sheltering 30 people in the Puerta del Revelin Albergue. From this vantage point I can see many the personal story unfold as pilgrims - both walkers and cyclists - rest and recover from the day's 16.6-mile hike. Perhaps it could be construed as spying, but as a writer, I consider it research. If I were drinking a cold cerveza in my bunk as I did said 'research' it would no doubt be a tax write off... Hold on...

...Okay I'm back with my write off.

To the far left of the room a Canadian couple have been scream-whispering to one another for the last twenty minutes, arguing back and forth about who will get the bottom bunk (the treasured bunk) that night. The air between them is tense and bitter. I feel for both of them. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. By contrast, on the right side of the room are a Spanish couple, Paolo and Esperanza. We've spent the last several nights in the same albergue, and today on the Camino we snapped a picture of them holding hands as they walked. This couple (in their 40s) do yoga together by their bunks and then trade off massaging peppermint cream into each others exhausted leg muscles. (The aroma of the cream, thankfully, masks a lot of other pilgrim odors.) They are the Camino poster couple - loving, supportive, joyful and quick to laugh.

In the middle of the room are two young, gorgeous Spanish cyclists (with a penchant for going shirtless in the coed bathroom, might I add) busy checking emails on their phones and memorizing tomorrow's route. There are the New Zealand couple uploading pics to their blog. The young Canadian folding his laundry while getting to know an American woman who is eager for the company. The group of Germans assessing and mending their feet. The female Brazilian cyclist who stayed behind today because of a bum knee is perusing maps. And then there's our little group. Mom is sleeping in between checking on our dryer. Emily has her eye mask on - out like a light. Lizzie is shutting her eyes, happy for this snore-free period of the communal living day. Rick has hit the showers. And myself, while typing this blog, am thinking of a heaping plate of Mexican food that I know, sadly, is a long time out of reach.

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Los Arcos to Logrono.





Pilgrim oasis.


Chicken crossing.


Sunday afternoon bike riding lesson from dad.


This place, 150meters down the road, was an old woman standing behind a tiny wooden stand stamping pilgrim credentials and selling cold drinks which her son ran inside the house to fetch. A family business. And probably making a killing.


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Location:Calle del Teniente Coronel Santos Ascarza,Logroño,Spain