Somehow the world lets you know when it’s time to go home and reset your compass.
I have returned to the Albergue by the bus station. I got a much better bunk in a slightly better room (or a much better room with a slightly better bunk) with a phone charger right beside me. This is good. After making up my bed, wasting time on FB and reading Franklin Habit’s apology for knitting dolls’ clothes, I decided to have lunch.
There’s an Indian restaurant two doors down from my hostel. There’s a stack of brochures from the same restaurant in the hostel. I thought perfect. I love Indian food. Except the only day it was closed was Wednesday and yes today is Wednesday…..all day. Alas
A quick search on Mapy said there was a supermarket across the street. I popped in looking for something to make a sandwich with. Well I could have bought several sacks of chickpea flour to make untold amounts of chapati. Once made I could fill them with strings of figs or other strange things I have never seen before. I could even buy Tandoori ovens in several sizes. However there wasn’t a slice of bread, small roll or recognizable cracker in the place.
I went to my last resort – the bus station. They actually had a decent looking lasagna for the extortionate price of 10.75 euros. My other choices were some heavy meat stew with rice or some even heavier meat concoction with fried potatoes. (Vegetarians go to Spain to die.)
The lasagna portion was very small and made with yesterday’s chicken dish whatever that was and who makes lasagna with chicken anyway? OK I’ll stop moaning.
I’ve grown tired of souvenir shopping and given yesterday’s fiasco, I didn’t want to get lost and soaked again by going into the old town. So I guess I’ll just hang out at this Albergue for the day; make dinner later, as I brought my pasta etc with me and head to Porto on the 9:00am bus tomorrow morning. I could do with a book.
The plot thickens or at least the lentils. I have just now been invited to have lunch with the staff of the Albergue. These are usually family run affairs and I think that the grandfather has made a lentil stew to which will be added some roasted chestnuts. I’ll see how it goes.
Actually as it turns out the lentils were amazing. I was given about a dozen roasted chestnuts to nosh on before lunch and several glasses of red wine with lunch. There were seven of us. One was another pilgrim from the US and the rest were family. I have a feeling this day isn’t over yet.
I responded to a pilgrim post about coffee in Toronto this Sunday and on Monday the walking group is doing my favourite walk to Mud Creek. I’ll see how tired I am. I guess it’s time to leave Spain for the moment.
P.S. I failed to mention when I first posted that I am still meeting bits and pieces of my pilgrim family. A woman stopped me in the street today and said that she was part of the pilgrim dinner at Orisson, that I was at and that I was an inspiration. I do love flattery. She mentioned that her name was Jill and through the conversation about selling her house and buying a van as her permanent, yet movable address, I realized that Cynthia had met her at a bus stop somewhere before Leon. She remembered Cynthia, so I passed on an update and she sent her best…..another Camino moment!! As an aside Orison with one “s” means “prayer.” – so appropriate.