Rest Day Redux

Bennett did a semester abroad in college — nine weeks, which included a one week spring break. I feel this week like I’m on the spring break of my Camino, thoroughly enjoying my Spanish vacation. It’s ironic that Kathy and Mim specifically chose Astorga for a rest day since “there isn’t much to do, so we’ll actually rest”. I could walk around here all day! Although, really, my walking so far has mostly been from pretty place to pretty place to have coffee, drink beer, or read a book, so maybe they have a point.

The biggest thing on my tourist list today was to see the underground Roman ruins. You need to sign up in advance, but I couldn’t find any way to do that online, so I walked over to the museum. There wasn’t anyone signed up for the 11 am, and they have a minimum, so I paid for the 5 pm, then wandered into a beautiful park that overlooks some of the newer part of the city.

I had another coffee while waiting for the pilgrim store to open, only to realize it’s closed on Thursdays. This was bad, because that store has hikers’ wool, which Yvonne and I have been searching for for the past two weeks. Mim has some and says yes, as advertised, it does an amazing job of cushioning your feet and helping stop any rubbing.

Mim and Kathy wanted to go to the Gaudi Palace. Gaudi and I got off to a bad start in Barcelona earlier this year (my fault, not his), so I wasn’t sure I wanted to bother, but it is RIGHT THERE. This was meant to be the Bishop’s house, which explains why it’s right next to the cathedral, but one never lived there. In the basement there is a sarcophagus, which the sign explains was reused by some other family. Reused? The palace is lovely, and I’m glad I went.

We had lunch at the restaurant outside the hotel and waited for Tom and Yvonne to get into town. They had plans to visit the chocolate factory; I opted for one of the many chocolate stores lining the streets instead.

Mim joined me for the ruins tour. There are doors randomly throughout the city that our guide would unlock, then we’d go downstairs and she’d explain the significance of what had been discovered. She was speaking in Spanish, and Google Translate doesn’t work well with iffy underground cell service, but Mim used to be a Spanish teacher, so she’d give me the gist. We visited several different areas of town, including walking through the sewers for quite a distance. I had to duck the whole time. You walk down 28 steps on a narrow, spiral staircase to get down to them — the guide warned ahead of time if you were claustrophobic or had physical limitations you should meet us at the other end. There aren’t as many steps getting back out, and it is a straight staircase, but for some reason they are really, really tall steps.

After the tour we stopped for hot chocolate, which is really thick here and so rich I couldn’t even finish it, and were on our way to dinner when we passed a wool store. We figured the chances were slim but asked anyway: did they carry hikers’ wool? They did. She had two packs, and now she has none.

We met Tom and Yvonne for dinner and discussed tomorrow’s plans. I have no place booked, so I’ll send my pack to Yvonne’s place in Foncebedón, which is about 17 miles and a climb. If that is biting off more than I should chew on my first day back, I can stop in Rabanal, about 14 miles ahead and where Mim and Kathy have reservations. I feel certain I can find a bed in either town. I’ll take an extra sports bra/underwear/socks with me in the daypack in case I don’t make it to Foncebedón. Then Yvonne will ship my pack forward from their hostel if needed. I’m really winging it my first day back!

Mim and Yvonne have both confirmed that these last two stages were not particularly pleasant walking. Yesterday, especially, was almost all along a busy highway with no real stops. Good stages to skip. We are leaving the Meseta and entering Galicia. I was struggling for a concise way the explain the difference. Mim says the Meseta is Kansas and Nebraska while Galicia is Oregon and Washington. Or, as it said online, “The Meseta is where you lose your mind; Galicia is where you find your soul.”Læs mere