May 24, 2014, Saturday Zamora to Monamarta
A Day Of Twists and Turns
I did not sleep well last night. It was cold and this is the first albergue I've come to that had no blankets. The hospitalera said this is because of bed bugs. I thought that made little sense but, oh well. I put on most of my clothes. I guess I should have put on my rain jacket and rain pants too. They are waterproof, so they hold in heat. So I'd fall asleep, then wake up cold, again and again. I finally gave up at six and read some comments on Facebook and checked on the Dodgers, they won. I went downstairs to see if I could help set up breakfast which is at 7 am, but all the stuff was out and no one was there. I waited until 6:45 and since there was still no one there and I figured people in my room would be starting to get up I went back upstairs to get my backpack ready.
When I was done I went back downstairs, had some coffee and a couple of crackers, and took off. This was the earliest start I'd had the whole trip. They first one-third of the walk was the usual tedious experience when you walk out of any big city. First it was hard to even find the way out. There was an official sign with an arrow pointing left, but when I went that way I passed three locals who all agreed that was the wrong way. So I went back and looked at the sign again. Sure enough, it pointed left. About, this time, a couple of French guys came by and they thought the way to go was straight. So I followed them. We saw some other arrows indicating we were on the right track. Then, as with any city, you pass through there was a bunch of industrial stuff.
We finally cleared the industrial junk and were moving along pretty well when I took a wrong turn. I saw the arrow, I looked at it and registered "go left" and so I did. After walking about fifteen minutes, I see the two French guys walking back towards me. They said that way went to Portugal. We actually aren't all that far from the border. So we walked back and looked at the arrow and sure enough, it said to go straight, not left. If the two French guys hadn't gone the wrong way too and doubled back, I would probably be in Portugal this evening. That would be a new one, even got the Queen of Lost, to end up in another country altogether.
So we get back on track and come upon the construction kerfuffle. Apparently they are building a new freeway which goes right through the Camino route. The two of my Camino guides talk about it, but I had no idea that it would be so confusing. So there were six or eight of us kind of traveling in the same direction when we hit this area. We all hot separated, scattered, lost in different directions. I ended up walking on the edge of the highway with oncoming traffic coming at me at a rate of 50 to 60 mph. It was terrifying. I had to do that for a couple of hours.
At one point I wonder how everyone else is doing. I haven't tripped over any squished bodies with backpacks so I figure they are somehow muddling through. I finally come to the gas station which is supposed to be a short distance from the albergue. To get to the gas station, I have to dart through oncoming traffic from both directions. It reminded me of double Dutch jump rope. I get there and I ask the guy working there where it is. He says there isn't one and something about there being a restaurant in seven kilometers. That's about an hour and a half of walking! I'm tired, my knee is hurting, my right foot is cramping, my nerves are shattered from walking on the highway, and I need to pee. First things first. I ask him if I can use the restroom. He says I can. So I go to the bathroom and try to pull myself together. I leave and ask him did he say seven kilometers. He says, "No, seventy meters."
So I carefully time the traffic again and dart back across the highway. I like to face the traffic. I guess I want to get a good look at what kills me. I get to the restaurant, dart across the highway again, and the restaurant is deserted. But, I see a sign that says albergue. Relieved I dart across the highway again to walk down the road looking for the albergue. I see another albergue sign that points off the road. So back I go across the highway. If you are getting tired of this, just imagine how I felt. With a heavy backpack, it's not so much a dart as a lumber.
I approach the albergue expecting to see other pilgrims there hanging laundry, waving to me to join them. Not even close. It too is deserted. And has a gate that is locked with not one, but two chain locks. As though we tired pilgrims wouldn't take one lock seriously. Oh, dear, what now. Not the exact words I was muttering, but you get the idea. About then I notice Linda and Claud coming up the road. Which surprises me, because they were ahead of me. We discuss our predicament. We decided to continue up the road and see if we can find some locals and get some answers.
The first guy we talk to tells us the albergue is closed because of bed bugs. Linda and Claud look confused, so I explain bed bugs. They both say, "Oh, that must be what these bites are." I check them out and sure enough, that's what they've got. I've slept in the same room with these people the last two nights. I start feeling all itchy. Of course, just talking about bed bugs make me itch. We decide to get a coke and explore our options. I check the bus schedule. There is a bus going bak to Zamora in twenty minutes. Then I realize it is Saturday, and the bus doesn't leave for two and a half hours.
They want to push on and walk another 12km. This late in the day, that's about three to four hours. It is already 1 pm. I'm tempted, but I don't really want to spend the night in an albergue with two people who are probably transporting bed bugs. And at this point, there isn't much they can do about it except get naked and set their packs and clothes on fire. We do find out there is a Casa Rural in town. So they leave to keep walking. I go look for the bus stop. I'm pondering sitting there for two hours waiting for a bus that doesn't come. It's Saturday. By the time the bus doesn't come everything could be closed.
At this point, I'm asking God, what is the lesson here. There's a pile of horse manure, there must be a pony. If the lesson is humility, it's done. I just want to sit down on the curb and cry. I'm thinking, "If I thought it was cold and hard to sleep last night, what will it be like outdoors on a hard sidewalk." Suddenly I hear someone yelling, "Peregrina!" I look up and this guy is coming towards me. He says he has a Casa Rural right up the street and that another Peregrino is already staying there. It could have been a pile of straw in a barn and he could have charged 1000€. I was desperate. As it turns out, it's a pleasant little room I'm sharing with the other peregrino. It is on the highway so there is car noise, but it's just tired on the road and I assume it will quiet down tonight. There is a little kitchen common room with stuff for breakfast and a freezer for my gel pack for my knee. The cost? 20€. He assures me there is a bus tomorrow at 9:30 am and that indeed I have located the bus stop.
So I go get something to eat. I relax. On the way back to the Cada Rural a bus pulls up. I ask if he goes to Zamora he says that is another bus line. I asked if it would be here tomorrow and he said it would, but it stop where he was stopped now, it would stop down at the bus stop. So reassured, I am laying in bed writing this and icing my knee. As you may have gathered I am going back to Zamora. When I get there I will check the buses and trains and see where I want to go to rest and relax until next Saturday when I need to be back in Zamora to begin my hospitalera shift. I checked my guides and the next couple of days are going to be more on and off the highway and lost direction because of the highway construction. Also, the fellow who owns the Casa Rural was telling the other pilgrim that there are fewer and fewer albergues ahead. So, it is with a heavy heart, but a thought for my sore knee, that I'm saying, "I am done walking for this Camino. I'd rather remember the beautiful experience it has been than to muddy the memory with the frustration and terror of today. There are few pictures from today. But after this was all settled in my heart and in my mind, I sat in the Plaza and watched three storks in two different nests, and saw one of them fly and soar.
