Day 2

Hello again,

Well, actually I am now back in Madrid but since we had no internet access along the way this addition will bring you all up to date. As I write this Monica and Petrie are still out there, surviving the elements and the pain. Un Saludo y Buen Camino to them.

OK, Day 2 is really day 1 of the walk. Heading off this fine day were Monica, myself, Christine, Kim, Petrie, Sonia and Gonzalo. All of us associates of Lawrence´s Philosophy Group in Madrid. We started fairly early and stopped for a good breakfast (no, not bacon and eggs!) and then headed out into the wilderness. Really, the main road out of town until we got we left the road and went bush, as we say. It was a pleasant and fairly flat trek up to the time we got close to Rabanal del Camino, about 24 km away. By the way, these distances are approximate and I err on the side of caution rather than extravagance.


The Pilgrims Hostelry we graced with out presence is the Nuestra Señora del Pilar. This ranch style place is pretty good, has heating, a bar and food plus pretty comfortable bunks and good showers. It cost us 4€ a night and was worth the money. After a shower and a beer while waiting for the slower paced of the group we headed off to find lunch. Most places, I should tell you, offer what they call a "Menu del Peregrino" which is basically the Menu del Dia but all day and at a decent-not cheap-price. Sonia and I settled for the Cocido Maragato which is a very similar to the Cocido Madrileño (Google it) except that the soup is served at the end of the meal. The meal consists of a selection of cuts of meat and smallgoods, cabbage and chickpeas all cooked together in stock. The idea of having the soup after the solid stuff was that in times of war, if you got interrupted at least you fought with more than liuid in your belly. A hearty and tasty meal, I must say.

Now for the village. As you see, it´s not very big and it´s on the side of a hill and as with most villages on the way there is a church. OK, three churches and monks. This being Easter Thursday there was a mass with singing and washing of feet. I was lucky enough to be invited (along with Gonzalo and 12 others to have our feet- one foot, really- washed as part of the Service.

I have to admit that it was a memorable experience. As a kid in Italy (before we headed off to sunny Australia) I had been an altar boy because I´d noticed that the girls go for the uniform. That was about the extent of my religiosity and, I hate to confess, I even set my hair on fire at the age of eleven when I fell asleep during a particularly long sermon. The great big candle I was holding had ignited my afro like top and the acrid smell of smoke had jarred me awake just in time to see this crazy woman racing towards me with a Vangelo held in a dangerous striking position. Needless to say, that episode is still talked about in Bogliacco.


Back to the hostal and a pair of Pacharans with Kim while the others meekly drank tea, ColaCao and similar beverages, we sat around by the fireplace singing along to the music on my mobile and chatting away till it was time to go to bed. The next day was going to be a long and uphill journey and we needed a good kip.