Spain, Day 9

May 31: Palas de Rei to Arzua

This was a long day, longer than promised. Even though we were in relatively luxurious accommodations we were up by 6:45 and on the trail by 7:15. According to the guidebook, we were in for a walk of 26.5 km but that must have been calculated from the most westerly aubergue in Palas to the most easterly aubergue in Ricibiro. We, however, started east and ended up west and walked almost 29 km. The extra bit makes a huge difference at the end of the day with sore feet.

In between, it was a day of forest paths, country roads, and -- most of all -- HILLS. We have become attentive to the little diagrams, found in all the guidebooks and often posted on the aubergue bulletin boards, showing the changes in elevation along the sections of the Camino. Today's diagram showed a net drop of 300 m over this section but you couldn't prove it by me: my strongest recollection is of the endless hills UP.

My bladder is a nuisance. I think my pack hip-strap is situated right over the top of my bladder so no sooner do a take a drink but I want to pee. No sooner do I pee but I'm thirsty again. People are stopped everywhere, drinking. There are fountains all along the way, so many that you hardly need a water bottle. Some of them are very old. The occasional one warns 'water not safe for drinking' but I have heard pilgrims say that that advice is over-cautious and the water is ok at all the fountains. But I have not put that advice to the test.

There was an aubergue at the 26.5 km mark, an ancient but attractive one in a quiet location right on the river. People sat on rocks at the riverbank, cooling their feet in the water. Very attractive indeed. But we have become fond of staying right in town, when we can, where there's more choice in restaurants, pubs, supermercados, and things to see. So we continued, expecting (as usual) that the next aubergue would appear in a 100 m or so. Not true this time! We were faced with yet another long, hot hill, another 2 km of agony.

We pulled into the first aubergue we came to, not fussy at all at this point. So now it is the usual routine: sign in to the aubergue, go out for a beer (maybe 2), shower, do laundry, attend to our feet. Everybody fusses with their feet. You look around; people are scrunched on their bunks or closer to the window where the light is good or poised over sinks in the washrooms. We are still fairly lucky but some people's feet look terrible: blisters, open blisters, large patches of raw flesh. It gets serious. They sell not only pop and chocolate bars but also bandages and antibiotic cream in the vending machines.

I have developed a little routine before bedding down for the night in an aubergue. I wander around, up and down the rows of bunks, being careful not to look like I'm out to steal anything. I am not looking for seiko wristwatches but for the beefy Spaniard with whom we spent that long night a week ago. He was the absolute loudest snorer I have ever heard and he didn't just snore: he snorted, he farted, and he let his cell phone ring. A real piece of work, aubergue-wise. If I see him I will move my sleeping bag to an empty bunk (if there is one) as far away from him as possible. It's not just the noise: I don't want to be in the line of fire if people start throwing things at him in the dark.

There are about 60 beds in the aubergue at Arzua and by 8:30 they are all taken. The sign on the outside door says 'Completo' - a sad message to late pilgrims that they must keep on looking. More than half of the occupants are already in bed; the other half are fussing with feet or laundry. Damp towels, underwear, socks hang from bunk bed springs and railings. I am looking for a bright orange or a bright green t-shirt, the only 2 shirts that the Spaniard possesses. I know he's in town because we saw him in the sidewalk cafe drinking beer.

I return to my bunk because it's almost time for lights out. The man in the next bed -- he looks to be about 60 -- is singing to himself in French and checking his cell phone for messages. The woman on the bed to my left is coughing heavily and I'm sorry she's sick but I hope she takes something for her cough. No noisy Spaniard tonight. Perhaps he is making friends in another aubergue.