The First Step Is Always The Hardest

April 22 the First Step Is Always The Hardest  Well I finally broke the suction between my bum and the bed in the Triana Backpackers hostel in Seville. It rained heavy and for some strange reason I couldn't force myself to leave the shelter. I think I've been reluctant to do this Camino. I don't know why, maybe more will be revealed. I had a great time at the hostel, met lots of great people from all over, including Lindsey and her mom Valerie from Touloose France, who were delightful company and shared their pasta with me last night. I met another mother daughter team from Barcelona who shared their food with me too. Feed me and I'll be your friend forever.   I left the hostel at about 8:30 this morning. Clear skies and sunshine, temperatures in the 70s. I was ready to start shedding clothes within an hour. I think I set a record, even for me, getting lost twice in the first three miles! lol. I only got lost twice in 500 miles last year. I am the Queen Mother of lost now. Anyway, this meant I only walked 3 miles in 3 hours. I did the next 11 miles in 4 hours. Quite a difference. The second time I got lost was in a town. I was ready to either lay down on the ground and kick my feet and pound the ground and hold my breath until I turned blue or cry. Lucky for me I was in front of the Ayudamente ( kind if like City Hall, I think) and the door was open, so I went in. They not only gave me directions they gave me two lovely pins that have the city seal on them and "Camino Via de la Plata- Seville - Camas." So as usual getting lost has it's little secret prizes. I still had a little trouble getting out of town, but a policeman and a street sweeper helped.   The next part of the walk was a slog through an industrial area and then along the side of a highway with no walking path. That part of the walk is in contention with the slog into Burgos as the most miserable Camino walk. But then suddenly, I looked up and in front of me was a dirt path border with juvenile wheat plants and wild flowers and a back drop of one of those beautiful dark cerulean blue sky with puffy white clouds. My heart was thrilled and grateful and I said "thank you" 

That went on for quite a while, but of course it can't last forever. I would take it for granted. So then we came to, what the guide book described as a stream. Because it had poured rain for three straight days, it looked to me like a river, granted a small river, but a river nonetheless. I'm thinking, "Where is Moses when you need him?"  So I go up river a little and find a place where some lovely pilgrim who preceded me had placed logs and branches in the water to help with the crossing. However, this branches could only be accessed and egressed by some very steep, muddy and slippery slopes. So what is the intrepid Pilgrim to do? Well after considering a couple of options, like returning to Seville and spending a month there or just sitting where I was for a while and waiting for the water to recede and the mud to dry, or for one of the tall tractors to come by.  I finally chose to try it. My biggest concern was falling in and getting wet, though that would have been darned uncomfortable. My biggest concern was slipping and twisting my ankle or breaking something. There aren't many pilgrims out there. But I have it a whirl. After slipping and sliding a bit I came to a place where the distance between the ground and the overhanging branches was so low I had to almost get in a full crouch to get through. Same thing on the upside. I had jus cleared the branches, when this really tall guy comes through going lickety split. I was in his way, so he found a way to the right of me. I asked him if there was still a purple bear in my pack, because I was afraid Mr Burple may have gotten knocked loose by the over hanging branches. Nothing, no "are you ok?,do you need help?, he just raced on away. To his back I mutter something about him being such a nice guy ( hehehe) and wondered if he was being chased by the devil. I got up and out by my own devices and moved on. As we approached town we hit a couple of miles of mud, so by the time I got to the albergue my boots and the legs of my pants were caked in mud.   

I ran right into the albergue, no searching necessary. The hospitalera welcomed me with a hug and besos. Her name is Pilar. She said, after I took my shower, she would do my laundry, gratis. It sounded great but, I thought, can I take a shower, do I have the much energy left, can she just throw me in the laundry with the clothes?" I did find the reserves to take a showere, gave her my clothes and took a little nap.   After my shower I went and had dinner of ensalada mixta, broiled, merlusa (fished), ensalada rusa (Spanish version of potato salad, café con leche and water. All for 7€. The albergue with breakfast is 12€. So I got meals for a day, a bed and laundry 19€, about $26. I didn't eat any lunch because I felt nauseous all day. Right after my last lost, I stopped and had an Aquarius (like a Gatorade. While I was ordering dinner a Finnish man who is staying at the same albergue, in fact we are roommates joined me, so I had someone to chat with during dinner. He had a glass of wine and asked if I wanted one. I said nobI don't drink. I think he thought I meant I don't drink wine, because he said, "you really miss a lot traveling through Spain, Italy and France if you don't like wine." I thought I'd miss a heck of a lot more if I did drink wine. I just told him if I drank a glass of wine I'd want ten more, or fall asleep on the table. We changed the subject.   Now I'm tucked in bed, not feeling so much like I had been beaten by a baseball bat. It's amazing how out of shape I can get in seven months, even with three or four walks on the beach every week. Oh well in a few days I'll be working back to tip top shape.   I would love to hear from all of you. What's up in your world?