THE CAMINO´S DIRTY SECRET

LEON

Here are some of the spectacular pictures of la meseta, the high flat plateau of Castille y Leon. (I have a picture of me in the same spot last year in which I am all bundled up and with snow drifts off to the side.) It is a sea of swirling greens, punctuated by numerous wildflowers and views of mountains in the background. The camino now is flat and straight and longggggggggg. I was developing tendoNEEtis on the right shin and so decided to give myself the weekend in Leon. I took two trains to get here and now have to take two back to Fromista to continue the camino. I gave a thought to just continuing on from Leon and sacking the 100km in between. But since a lot of lesser mortals than me are doing a similar thing ("this is the boring part....") I have to avoid the herd mentality and pretend it is simply the camino spirit. Also that is the part where I was laid up injured last year and I have, oddly enough, some pleasant memories of that part.

Here is a memory of my present journey. I was walking into Boadilla on a hot sunny day and feeling invincible. No real thoughts in my head but anticipating a dip in the pool that the private alburgue reportedly had--all the Germans were even more excited than me. Turns out the pool did not open for 2 more weeks. But this guy came toward me in the last kilometer. I thought I was hallucinating.

Anyway the weekend in Leon, while an expensive venture, was a relief. I have a shower to die for and a big double bed for all the good it is doing for me. It doesn´t squeak, no one else is in the room farting or snoring or rustling through his or her pack. I don´t have to negotiate around backpacks and straps on the way to the bathroom. But it is just an hiatus.

I have pretty much decided I am NOT going to walk to Finistere. I will take a bus there. I cannot imagine walking three additional days. All that will change if there is a humpy little pilgrim who is all excited in Santiago and wants to have some company on the way to coast. Then, of course, I would even pay the extra fare to change my return flight home.

The dirty secret? Well, a lot of the camino is just downright boring. The day has 24 hours. Sleep at most is 8 hours, walking about 6. There are 3 hours devoted to the multiple minute examinations and the anointing of feet as well as showering and other bodily functions. You can use 2 more with shopping and eating. That leaves about 4 to 5 hours with not a whole heck of much to do. One can nap. There is the occasional beer or bottle of wine much appreciated. Then there is the behind-the-scenes taunting and deriding of fellow pilgrims that does consume an inordinate amount of time but leaves you feeling less than holy or properly spirited. Everyone is so tired that conversation tends to be limited to where one is doing to walk the next day. The other big topic is which ethnic or national group has ticked you off the most recently.

Even when walking, one is beset by ennui of a great order. One can only enthuse about the scenery for so long--even when it is fabulous, like it has been of late, it doesn't change much when you go at a 3 mile an hour pace. And one quickly realizes that greater minds than his or hers have grappled with the problems of world peace and poverty without a whole lot to show for it. That leaves one probing important questions, like whether or not two tone dress shoes are really ever appropriate for a business meeting or why Wendy Hiller is not universally recognized as the best film actress of all time.

Then there is song. I don´t try to get out my sheaf of songs very often. I cannot afford to trip over a big stone while screeching like one of the ever present storks. I was going to ammend that practice when I found out my little German buddy was interested in singing en route. He was musing about unleashing some of the army marching songs he learned while doing his service. I thought it would be nice to learn those and then divert him from German punk rock to the glories of 80s disco. But we got separated none too soon.