El Burgo Ranero to Puente Villarente

Some non geographical differences I'm noticing in the Meseta are as follows.

1. The emergence of actual tapas, i.e a free snack you didn't order to accompany a drink. So far I've had olives, bread with cream cheese and ham, and bread with sardine and peperoncini. To my absolute delight, in Sahagun this extended to coffee - instead of the typical biscuit or chocolate I got a tiny custard pastry.

2. Getting charged for those disposable bedsheets, or there being actual real ones. The most I've paid is €2 so far.

3. No more books in albergues, I'm assuming if you started with one you've finished and left it by now and didn't replace it. Bum!

4. No more coffee vending machines or public toilets, haven't seen since Burgos and Logrono, respectively.

In men-in-car news, today offered two stories. First, I'm absolutely sure I saw Uncle Fester driving a Fiat Panda. Secondly, a fat man in a flash car gave me a funny wave which made me realise that's the first time in the whole trip that I have felt at all sexualised.

Maybe it's part of the pilgrim protective bubble, meandering along in our androgynous clothing, on a holy (to us) mission, it puts us off limits? Maybe I'm just scruffy and nobody's been keen? I hadn't even realised the liberating calm until that skeeze threw a pebble in and I felt the ripples. Go away please I'm busy being a sacred vessel.

The kilometres absolutely melted away under me today, I cant believe I've gone from worrying if I'll be able to do 20 a day before I came to now considering 25 a short day, but I have. Another very straight very flat run, but not needing to concentrate on the ground does let you really get into the old bonce and look around. It's nice to have hours, days, to chew on an idea, roll it around and break it down, until it's something you can swallow.Læs mere