The Cheese Stands Alone

"He who limps is still walking." ~Stanislaw J. Lec

Still free of foot troubles, my heart goes out to all the pilgrims I see daily nursing their aching, blistered, red, dry, angry feet. I have seen some gnarly science projects occurring below the ankles. Feet with blisters the size of acorns. Feet with every last toe wrapped in tape. Feet swelling with rashes. Feet so damaged they're bleeding. When people commiserate with me, I honestly feel like a jerk telling them I haven't had any problems other than the occasional hot spot on a toe or two. They then want to know my secret, which, of course, involves a product they can't buy here. So now I'm a double jerk. And this is when I inevitably lose them. "Oh," they say, their hope (and interest in continuing the conversation) draining from their face. I may be a pilgrim, but I'm not 'one of them'.

It's not only with feet that I have felt this separation. While I really enjoy talking to people and getting an understanding of why they've chosen the Camino as a path, I seem to be on more of a quiet, reflective journey than one of socializing and collecting international Facebook friends. I love walking alone on the trail, listening to my music and working on untying the internal knots. I have become more relaxed. More introverted. I still have my loud boisterous moments - don't worry friends, Blackheart has not left the building - but I would rather snuggle in my bunk with a book or my blog at the end of a long day than trade foot horror stories with people on the patio.

At home, my life is just the opposite. There are always plans. Always friends to meet up with. Always fun things to do. People to talk to. So perhaps part of this vacation/journey/escapism is working on that contrasting part of my character that has been neglected of late. The part of me that thinks eating a chocolate croissant in bed or taking an hour-long hot bath or sipping a decaf coffee in silence at the bar is one helluva good time. The part of me that wants to sit back and take it all in instead of making it happen.

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Najera to Santo Domingo de la Calzada to Belorado to San Juan de Ortega.





I called them cranes before, but they're actually storks. And they make this incredible clacking sound that makes you think somehow Jim Henson is involved in their animation. The first picture is of columns that the villages build just for the storks to nest on.









The last three pics display (although not doing it justice) the spotlight effect of the sun streaming through the stormy clouds at sunrise. The best was when you stepped into the spotlight and felt a brief shower of warmth.


Lizzie and Red taking their shoes off in the convent in Santo Domingo that would be our drafty, cold room for the night.


Our gang - The Cinco Amigos - all stay in a single room that is essentially one big bed because of its small size. The floor was slanted, so I woke up with a head full of blood. And the window didn't shut properly so shivers were aplenty.





An idyllic pilgrim rest stop.








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Location:Hotel Centro Los Braseros, Burgos, Spain