San Martín del Camino to Astorga – 24.5km, 5.5 hours, hotel Gaudi, 82€

Don’t worry. I’m not the little piggy and Melanie certainly is not either. We are still on the trail although Melanie was feeling a new back pain. She’s trying to see someone this afternoon / evening, if possible to get some advice that is more accurate than Dr. Google.

The start to today’s walk was delayed until 7:50am which is unheard of for us. The alarm did go off at 6am but the temperature was 6ºC / 43ºF and we were pretty snug in our bed in the un-heated albergue with frozen floors. It took both time and courage to get up. Also, we had agreed to have breakfast at the albergue and that took some time too. Once we did get moving, the sun was almost on the horizon but many of the pilgrims were wearing coats, knit caps or hoods, scarves, etc. to keep warm.

Breakfast #2 at the 7km mark was in one of our most favorite Camino towns, Hospital de Orbigo. I managed to have a sesame seed bagel, cream cheese and salmon as well as an orange juice. Just before we got into town though we were walking between a cornfield and another plot of land with some small green plants that weren’t tomatoes or sunflowers. At the time, we were also passing an Italian couple so Melanie asked them if they recognized the crop. They did, right away but they only knew the name in Italian. It sounded to me that the woman said porcellino so I tried that in Google Translate at the same time she was trying to use the same app. I got my translation back first and immediately burst out laughing. I showed the translation to the woman and she shrieked with laughter too. Apparently, the farmer was either growing a crop of little pigs or I misheard her Italian name for the vegetable, later translated by the woman as string beans. My ears don’t work so we in Italian right now.

After Hospital de Orbigo, we took the longer, greener, hillier scenic route instead of more road routes. It was wonderful to get away from the main road and all the noise. In a small grocery stall in the only town on that route, the owner somehow had an unusual table cover – it was clearly a Singapore flag, still with all its creases from sitting folded in a plastic bag between September and July, the following year. August is the only time the flag comes out of the house. Melanie teared up a bit but then laughed at the creases and insisted that I take her photo with the flag. We never found out its story and how it got to a tiny village in Spain.

Last night, I was disturbed when I saw something on the patio before dinner. Several pilgrims were out sitting at a long row of tables and sipping on some wine, beer or something softer. Pilgrims are normally pretty sociable but I saw one Indian man walk up to a European man (his country will remain unsaid). The Indian tried to start a conversation with the European about their shoes. With two grunts and a flick of his arm, the European made it very clear that he didn’t want to talk. The venom in his eyes also gave the clue that the reason was because the first man was Indian. The Indian guy looked deflated in a way he appeared to be used to so I quickly asked to Melanie to talk to the guy. She’s better at that than I am.

Sure enough, the guy’s face brightened up considerably and he asked to sit and chat with us. We never mentioned anything about prejudices but it looked like it weighed on him. It turned out that he was actually living in US as a citizen. We had a decent conversation together about many subjects until the 7pm dinner bell was rung. Inside at dinner, the three of us sat with a young Basque man who was working in Madrid and who only spoke Spanish. Throughout the beginning of dinner, the Indian dominated the conversation and really only spoke to Melanie and I. Melanie, at first, tried to get the Spaniard to participate in the conversation but it was clear that he really didn’t speak any English at all. We both spoke to him sometimes in our broken Spanish (in between Indian rants and soliloquies). The Indian guy, however, was getting mad because we were excluding him from the Spanish conversation. Ummm…., Didn’t the Spanish guy just get left out of the first 40 minutes of dinner conversation because only English was spoken? Give the guy a break, for Pete’s sake! Why is it okay to ignore someone else and not talk to them? Just because it happened to you an hour ago doesn’t make it right. As I said, this was disturbing. Spread love, not hate.

Anyway, it’s late and I need rest. We’re heading up into the mountains again and my proofreading wife has been asleep for more than an hour.

Peace y’all. Goodnight George & Leo. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. If Leo wants to bite George, that’s okay since Leo doesn’t have teeth and he’s not a bedbug anyway, right?

p.s. this is for George & Leo

Questo porcellino è andato al mercato.

Questo porcellino è rimasto a casa.

Questo porcellino aveva roast beef.

Questo porcellino non ne aveva.

Questo porcellino ha gridato “Wee-wee-wee!” fino a casa.