What I remember about this day is pretty scattered, as the
first day jitters ended and the physical reality of the Camino started to set in. Mostly, they set into my feet in the form of
massive blisters that covered the entire balls of both feet… although they hadn’t
‘popped’ yet, the stomach-churning slipperiness to the whole epidermis down
there is both disgusting and alarming.
Moleskine won’t do a damn bit of good, I know that for a
fact. On the other hand, it’s really
only uncomfortable when I take my boots off and put on my Sanuks to go
shuffling around the town, limping like a zombie in the ‘Peregrino Shuffle’.
But before all that nonsense, I leave Puente la Reina just
before dawn and catch the sun coming up over the stone bridge leading out of
town (i.e., the Puente in Puente la Reina).
This is where I first run into a couple, Tom the Hungarian Documentarian
and his girlfriend whose name I never do quite get down, chatting away merrily
and videotaping along the way. The trail
quickly meanders through farmland dotted by scrub pines and begins to climb; I
keep getting distracted by the sunrise behind me and taking pictures. For a while I walk behind a Japanese couple
who are decked out, head to toe, in shiny Salomon gear – I’m ridiculously
jealous of their light shoes and bright colors.
It’s beginning to become a hot day and although I’m down to hiking pants
and a t-shirt, I’m sweating in my beefy hiking boots and starting to develop
some impressive pit stains.
At the high point of the day, in a town called Cirauqui I
stop to grab some quick snacks from the tiny supermercado, and when I sit to
take my socks off and air my feet out on the stone wall outside the market,
several younger pilgrims do the same.
There’s an awkward but friendly silence as none of us speak the same
language but are all tending to our feet and slamming down yogurt and bread,
sweaty but happy in the morning.
Somewhere between yogurt and Villatuerta (kilometer 18), I
start to experience Significant Pain. I’m
well hydrated, well fed, and in pretty decent shape, but the sheer mileage of
the Camino has torn my feet up and the heaviness of my boots is impacting my
hips, back, and knees in a way that turns my walk into a plod. Noontime rolls around and my ability to
remain peaceful with God is pretty much shot.
Coming through a tunnel next to the interstate, I run into
Gitte and Jeper from Denmark for the first time, not intentionally, but
forcefully. I’m walking past trying to
convince myself that Estella isn’t much further and Gitte pretty much yells at
me to sit down and eat a piece of chocolate she’s offering me. That’s all it takes, such a simple act of
generosity that turns my day around. I
plop my ass down next to them, fill my face with some dark chocolate, and let
my feet air for a few minutes before getting up and cranking out the final push
to Estella.
Straightaway into the hostel, which has a large open
courtyard in the middle of the building, I see the Canadians from the night
before sitting outside, so I sit down.
With them is Susannah the Aussie, future Musketeer Extraordinaire, who
(I don’t know at the time) will become one of my near-constant Camino
companions. Also in residence is the
Happy Russian Man, with whom I never manage to have an intelligible
conversation but whom I’ll see again and again for weeks and who never fails to
slap me on the back like an old friend and grin like Robin Williams. He is nearly always seen in denim shorts and
a black ‘Tap Out’ shirt, smoking a cigarette and moving quickly.
What happens over the next few hours is more or less a
blur. We go into the city to search out
a restaurant for food and find a bar that has a good-looking menu… and realize
we have to wait 2 hours before they serve dinner. There is the first of many visits to a pharmacy,
the first of many Compeed (aka Magic Foot Goo for Pilgrims) purchases, and the
realization that in any town in Spain, green neon crosses signal sweet, sweet
relief. There are drinks (coffee for me,
sangria for them) and the first of many misunderstandings with the beautiful
waitress. There are many tapas
consumed. Then there is dinner, the first
of many paellas, and Massive Confusion About the Bill. No matter, I spend the night laughing loudly
and being well fed, and I go to bed blistered, but happy.
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