Villar de Mazarife

Oooh, boy. It’s been a day. A literal day. Just under 24 hours ago, Geoff and the kids dropped me off at Dulles. I slept maybe an hour or so on the flight but that was it.

Had a connecting flight in London to Madrid. From there, I took a commuter train to a train station to take the high speed (“alta velocidad”) train to Léon. From there, I walked to the bus station to get to Hospital de Órbigo, where I am now, ensconced in my bunk bed in the Albergue Casa de los Hildagos.

I was flying high and feeling pretty good about my Spanish skills but as the day wore on and my energy lagged, so did my confidence. I was ripe pickings for a total asshole dude at the Léon bus station who refused to help me as I tried to verify I was going to the right door for my bus and mocked me when I reverted to English out of habit/shock/exhaustion/whatever when he was rude to me. I managed to not cry in front of him but I cried for the kind elderly folks I asked next for help and then the bus driver. Ultimately, I had the right fucking door the whole time. That guy is a dick and I hope his falls off. Sorry not sorry.

Things of note:
1. I had the most amazing ham and cheese croissant at the Madrid Chamartin train station.
2. At that same cafe, there were two women with Camino shells on their backpacks so I wished them a “Buen Camino.” I was rewarded with a blizzard of Spanish flying back at me and I said, “Despacio! Mi español no es bueno.” They spoke zero English but we managed to exchange that they were on their way to start in Sarria and I was able to tell them I was meeting my friend who started in France.
3. Donuts in Spain are called “dots,” which is way better in my opinion.Læs mere