Wednesday 4th April 2018

27 km (196.2 km)

Daniel has written the blog today…

Today started about 05:30 when the first Pilgrims sharing our morgue-like Albergue started to move; morgue-like since the owners had managed to squeeze 12 bodies (us) into such a small space I was surprised we didn’t have to climb onto one of those sliding trays you always see on TV to get into bed. Anyway because it was so small it was impossible to move without waking everyone; even the dead or those pretending to be. Whilst the Albergue was at least clean, it scored 9.0 on booking.com so beware next time you rely on that rating system. Woken from our shallow slumber breakfast was at 06:30 and it turned out to be highlight, not only of breakfasts (not quite Parador standard) but of the day at large.

The walk itself was approximately 27 km in a straight line; it really was that exciting. The highlightlight as we walked between vineyards and olive groves was that the rain showers passed behind and ahead of us but not on top of us.

We arrived at the metropolis of Torremejia around 13:30 and were met by a local lad on a bike who told us in English with a big smile that he was a Liverpool supporter before directing us to the Albergue. We met him again and his parents at the restaurant run by his grand father; like I said it is a metropolis…

The restaurant provided a half decent “Menu del Dia” albeit featuring lomo (pork) again without a vegetable in sight. Veggies are clearly unloved in Spain, fortunately however beer and wine were on hand to help us through to desert and “cafe solo”.

We returned to our Albergue refreshed and ready to survey the damage of Pauline’s feet, lovely as they are normally they are not very pretty right now. Despite copious strapping, applications of lambs wool and lotions her feet have gone from a size 38 to a 40 whilst of course her Scarpa boots have stayed a 38! The resulting blisters are then growing by the day and there is no hope for her toe nails. I fear that at the rate things are going Pauline will have the feet of a Hobbit by Santiago and she won’t be skipping along happily as if off to see Bilbo Baggins in the Shire (or the Outlaws in Devon).

The state of the feet then has called for drastic action; two rest days in Merida. It’s 16 km away so Pauline says she will get a bus tomorrow morning, I think that is spelt “taxi” in Pauline’s English-Spanish dictionary but then I’ve not seen one yet in this town and so she may well be on the bus. Meantime I will walk to Merida, in order to earn my afternoon Cervesa though hopefully it will be accompanied by something other than lomo to eat…

Dan having a snooze in his raincoat because he’s cold