Lucie is waiting for us and we leave Villar de Mazarife at 7:10 am. We had paid for breakfast, which was to be for 7:00, but we couldn't wait. We found out later from a Danish Peregrino that the lady responsible for our breakfast slept in, and only showed up at 7:30. He had to wait for his hat, which he had left in the dining room the night before. Thank goodness we didn't wait. We had 28 km walk ahead of us.
It is a cloudy, overcast day, but I am enjoying the sweet fragrance in the air, as we walk. I finally figure out it is the fields of ripe corn that surround us. I have little to no sense of smell, so I was thoroughly delighted to be smelling something other than cow and horse manure.
Nancy is in too much pain to continue past Puente de Orbigo, so I get some kind tavern owner to call her a cab, and we continue on.
El Puente (the bridge) de Orbigo is incredibly ancient and beautiful. We stop on the other side for a huge carb lunch of spaghetti, bread and of course, a glass of wine.
It is a long, hard hike from there to our destination, just outside Astorga, but Lucie is with me and we push on, despite the wind and rain.
Along come Charles, my French Canadian friend from Cornwall, to help me put on my poncho, as the skies really open up. We chat about our lives. He is a 39 unemployed bilingual lawyer who has been traveling around the world for the last two years, trying to find himself. He does not want to return to the crass, corporate capitalist culture he was in, so... he is hoping to maybe start a business where he can work anywhere in the world. I wish him luck. He is a sweetie.
I will soon have to duct tape my boots. I am starting to walk funny and have had absolutely no luck in finding a pair to buy. Even though, this far into the game, I really can't risk breaking in a new pair of boots.
Nancy is waiting at our new digs for the night; lovely room with a balcony. The owners are so friendly and helpful. I help them out by translating into Spanish, what some Fins wanted to know about eating and shopping.
People in northern Spain do not speak English. Everything is "no problem". It isn't for me because I speak the language, but it must be very frustrating for those who don't have any Spanish.
Nancy noticed an odd thing today. Everywhere we paid our bill, i.e. in a cafe, or restaurant, a bell was rung, or a whistle blown. So I asked a server why and this is what I was told. It is a tradition in Spain to ring a bell, or blow a whistle, when a customer tips! That is because Europeans don't tip. The following I knew - the price you pay VAT (Value added Tax) includes taxes and gratuities, so they don't receive tips, unless they come from North Americans. Therefore we have started tipping even more, to hear the bells and whistles!
Je fais un petit recul au Jour 16. Quand je vois un papillon qui voltige autour de moi, je me dis que c'est mon père, et je lui parle. Juste avant d'arriver à Hornillo, j'ai eu le plus beau papillon bleu venir me rendre visite. Mais il n'etait pas seul. Il y avait une copine. Ah, je me suis dit "Ma tante France, ma marraine! " Alors, j'ai eu une belle jasette avec elle aussi.
Bonne nuit ma belle Jessica. Gros bisous!
Avec amour et reconnaissance de Justo de la Vega, très près d'Astorga.
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