I literally don't know what day it is. The only reason I know the date is because of the timestamps on the emails I'm getting. I've been deprived of internet for the past few days, so this could get sort of long and drawn out - I'm suffering from computer withdrawals.
I've adjusted to walking alone, and it's not as bad as I thought it would be. To clarify for my mother who is probably freaking out at home at the idea of me walking across Spain by myself, I'm not TECHNICALLY alone. Annie, Carrie and I didn't really walk together much after the first day because we kept different paces. My marathon running cousin was usually a few miles ahead of us leading the pack. Carrie could keep a faster pace than me and was generally just around a bend or something. I usually brought up the rear because I'd get distracted taking pictures or would have to take an asthma/bum knee/snack break. Also, it's a little hard to walk with other people. It's nice to be able to enjoy the quiet of the scenery or my iPod without worrying about keeping up conversation, or being able to breathe, talk and walk at the same time. Most of our socializing occurred in the evenings after we arrived at the albergue. I knew in advance that this would be when I'd miss my companions the most. Fortunately, I'm adjusting, and I've made new friends.
It hasn't stopped the fascinated comments of "¿Sola? ¿Andas a Santiago SOLA?" Yeah. I'm by myself.
On Sunday, I walked out of a heavily wooded area coming off a pretty steep mountain. To my left, a middle aged man was gardening in his front yard. He stood up when he saw me walking down the road, and as I passed he said, "¿A Santiago?". I get this about 13 times a day. It still amuses me to no end. I said yes, and he said, in Spanish, that he has never seen a girl come out of the mountain by herself. I told him there's a first for everything.
Sunday night - after my first day walking alone - I happened upon a party crowd in the albergue in Pobeña. When I arrived, I was greeted by Valerie, a Parisian who I've seen at albergues and on the Camino since we started in Irún, Ana the hospitalera, and her hysterical friend Baume, who is incredibly intelligent, witty and is employed as a streetsweeper. At some point in the night, someone asked her why she decided to be a streetsweeper instead of something else. She responded "¡Porque me gusta, claro!" Pretty great. After I had a chance to wash the last 32km off of myself, we went to a bar for a couple of drinks. A new face joined the mix - Stefan, an economist from Cologne had just begun his Camino that morning from Bilbao. The 5 of us sat on a patio for a couple of hours chatting in English, Spanish, French and German about our backgrounds, our trip thus far, politics, Mexico and alcohol. I was clearly only participating in the English and Spanish conversations, but I was sort of impressed that I understand a French word here and there. Two more pilgrims stopped in, Ignacio from Zumaia - who incidentally is really good friends with Jose Fran, the hospitalero we met and adored in Zumaia - and Ángel, a teacher from La Mancha who we've seen on the trails for the last few days. We moved the party to another bar for dinner and a bottle of Crianza and made it just in time to catch the last half hour of the Nadal v. Federer match. The bar went completely nuts at the end of the game, and I loved being there for it. We were probably out a little later than we should have been, but since the entirety of the albergue was all there, it didn't matter. We all slept in a little the next morning and got a little later start than usual, but it was worth it.
Yesterday was the first genuinely sketchy albergue experience that I've had to date. We've stayed in some rather... basic... accomodations, but this one took the cake. We stopped in El Pontarrón for the night, and knew we were staying at the Albergue Municipal. What we didn't know was that the front door hadn't been opened since the last guest stayed there on June 28th, and it probably hasn't been cleaned since 2006. There was a shower and hot water, but it smelled AWFUL. We had bunk beds like in most other albergues. Unlike other albergues, however, I was sort of scared of touching the bed with my bare skin. The blanket I stole from Continental Airlines came in handy, and I used it to cover the areas around my sleep sack that could potentially come in contact with any body parts during the night. We couldn't handle being in the room because of the stench, so we opened all the windows and walked up the highway to the bar for dinner, drinks and television. Stefan isn't a morning person and doesn't like waking up early, but this morning all 4 of us were up and out the door by 7am because we couldn't handle the thought of being there a moment longer than necessary.
Today has been great. We didn't walk very far because we're planning a 36km hike to Santander tomorrow. There was a stretch of highway involved in today's walk that made me feel like I was in a bad game of Frogger again, but that didn't last long. The highlight of the afternoon was a trip on a tour boat from Laredo to Santoña. There were two boat options to get across the bay, and I think I picked the better of the two. After a short walk through the center of Laredo, an excursion boat to the right of the harbor offered trips to Santoña for 4€. 5km down the beach, a ferry offered a short ride across the water for 1.70€. I took the excursion boat, and Valerie, Ángel and Stefan took the ferry. I got here an hour before Valerie and Ángel, and 4 hours before Stefan. I'm okay with that.
We have a washing machine at the albergue tonight, and it was impeccible timing. I was down to a bathing suit, and I don't think anyone wants me walking 36km in that tomorrow. Santoña is the anchovy capital of Spain, if not the world. They have phenomenal seafood here, which made for a pretty awesome lunch along with my half liter glass of sangria. I had an interesting walk back to the albergue, but at least I couldn't feel the 4 blisters I'm getting on my heels and baby toes. But I digress. Spain doesn't believe in dryers, so after our clothes finished washing, they went up on the clothesline. Our albergue is right off of the bay. I can actually see fish in the water right over the fence. It's awesome. The only downside is that it also smells like it's right off the bay in the anchovy capital of Spain. I have concerns that my clothes might smell like Santoña until I make it to the next washing machine. Unfortunately, there's not much I can do about that.
The days have gotten much, much easier. There are still hills here and there, but there hasn't been a huge mountain to scale or cliff to ski down in a few days. I hope it stays that way, as does my right knee. With the pace I'm keeping, I'm hoping I can make it to Santiago by July 25th, the saint day of St. James. If I can make it to the end by then, not only am I guaranteed an awesome party in Santiago, but I may even have time to make it to Finesterre, a finishing village on the Western coast of Spain that, until 1492, was considered the end of the earth.
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