Dolor

Unfortunately one day of rest was insufficient for my feet. I started the Camino with some arrogance. I walk all the time! I’ll be eating up those kilometers! No sweat! The Camino has humbled me. It has put me in my place.

And today, that place was the bus. I made it less than 2km before I had to give up. Other pilgrims whizzed by. I tried walking in my sandals. I tried resting on benches every 200m. But at the rate I was walking, it would take us at least 8 hours to get to the next town.

So I hobbled over to a bus stop (La Rioja, the state we are in, has stellar, cheap regional bus services, something I wish we had more of in the US). I asked the only other person at the bus stop how much the fare was, and he insisted on paying for both me and Andy. Turns out he’s a Romanian guy who came to Spain thirty years ago. He reminisced about swimming in the Black Sea when he was a kid back in Romania, though he’s enjoyed the life he has built in Spain. We chatted in a mixture of Spanish and English until our bus came. 15 minutes later, he pulled the cord and told us to get off. I didn’t get his name, but thank you to this kind stranger who got us to Navarrete.

That short bus trip made me realize both how little we actually walk every day and how big of a journey we’ve taken on. Driving straight to Santiago from SJPP (where we started) takes about 8 hours. Walking will probably take us 7 weeks. Just one foot (or in today’s case, one wheel) in front of the other.

Another wine fountain! (Actually there’s a wine harvest festival happening in Logroño and I think the city just dyed the water red 😂)

While Andy climbed up here to get a picture of the town…

…I was down here resting my tootsies (as my grandpa called them).