Today was delightful. Our two hosts from the San Francisco de Asis Hostel waited outside to farewell each and every one of us with a hug, a handshake a personal note, whatever matched the need of the individual, whatever followed on naturally from the warmth and the connection of the evening before.
Last night we came together to chop and to cook, to eat and to engage; the highlights of the day the small talk of greetings, the depths of why we’re here. Simple fare, salad, paella, conversation.
Later we join in the chapel upstairs. Our host talks in Spanish and a pilgrim translates. The prayer is ecumenical, easy to digest, accessible to all. It’s read out by us, in Portuguese, German, Spanish, French and then English. We give thanks for those before us whose generosity has provided for our needs.
Afterwards the letters of pilgrims are handed around for us to read; loved ones passed away, a mother lost to dementia, people dealing with pain and suffering, or perhaps searching and longing. At the end it’s open for people to speak and Dave from Cornwall sings the uk churches COVID prayer. People join in as best they can, or not, there’s no judging.
We clear and wash up, distilling the day as we do, into the flashes of colour and emotion that held meaning for us, perhaps in words, perhaps in our hearts, as we go about drying and stacking plates.
I wish to remember them, the father and his young son walking side by side on the road, the matter-of-fact shorts wearing girl from Quebec, the German lad who looks Chinese, dealing with depression and finding his peace on the road, the farmer from Cornwall who walks alone because his wife and forever walking partner now has osteoporosis, they walk together on the phone….
The morning rises fresh, vibrant and cool in stark contrast to yesterday’s wet Grey. It’s just a delight to be alive, to be walking. We’re later than normal as the Albergue has a “no rising before 6:30am” rule and the difference is considerable; streams of people up and away.
The simple stone church by a water fountain in the square in the next town is still and serene and we stand for awhile to experience it, to soak it up and carry it with us.
As the sun rises, the green of the fields, blue sky, stone, whitewashed walls and vibrant blossoms explode in symphony and its just a joy to be walking.
In a seeming blackboard-nail screeching incongruence, a tomcat, in the middle of the town, bites the neck of a feline as he mounts her, smothered and jostled by five others fighting to go next. Natural no doubt, but it looked brutal. Meanwhile, the town went about its business, the sun continued to shine, and the gravel crunched beneath our feet.
There’s a long steep climb out of xxx where we stop for coffee and we’re walking in pine forest along a fire trail, or access road of some kind. There’s wind turbines in the middle distance beyond the forest so perhaps they’re for those. A young German lass, Andrea (?) on a bicycle who stayed with us in Tosantos, gave the steep a good crack, but in the end Viet and Lisa help haul the bike and gear to the top of the forested plateau.
The forest opens to a green parkland almost with beautiful plain trees and horses. It’s a short walk from here down into the pretty little town of Ages.
We stay in the Municipal albergue here and it’s clean and tidy but also big and impersonal and we feel all the more the incredible community spirit Florian and his Spanish colleague were able to foster at Tosantos. It’s a good learning for future towns. We dine with Ian and Tai who enjoyed dinner with when we first began in Saint John Pied de Port and meet Sally who’s starting again after stopping last year at this point when her father died.
Tomorrow the big city town of Burgos.
