It soars towards me, wings moving majestically, as if it was in slow motion...
I freeze, squinting through my lairy sunglasses, getting ready to flinch as it swoops down upon me...
And then off it goes, into the distance and up the mountain. The first and, hopefully, last time I think an eagle is about to eat me for its lunch. All this mountain trekking is making me skinny and it could have probably swallowed me whole.
The last few days each provide their own distinctive memories, some a bit unsettling a la death from the sky mentioned above; others unexpectedly amusing, like the following.
As I walked up another taxing hill towards the peak of an obscure Spanish village, the thought of piping hot coffee and a chorizo baguette was about the only thing keeping my legs moving. All of a sudden, a slight tremor in the distance. Think Jurassic Park when the glass of water starts to wobble and you´re getting there; what with the recent quake in Spain, I assumed perhaps that lightning had struck twice. Then a distant sound, surely an animal, gradually increasing in strength as the seconds passed; animal? Or animals? Try herd. Try an army. Of goats.
Not to mention two donkeys bringing up the rear, as well as two hunting dogs; the moustachioed shepherd gave me a sly little nod and a ´buen dia´ as he waltzed past like a modern day Noah of the Ark. Some of the baby lambs came up to my rucksack and started to lick it (knew I shouldn´t have left the biscuits in the front pouch); they looked unbelievably sweet. Tasty, even, but as the cafe was only five minutes away I thought it a bit inappropriate to tear into a live animal, despite my extreme hunger. Besides, the donkeys looked lethal.
Burgos, Spain´s former capital city during the middle ages, was a tad disappointing; if I wanted to walk into a city of high rise blocks of flats and crap graffiti, then I would have caught the c2c into Limehouse. Nevertheless, the most beautiful aspect of Burgos was its beautiful greenery and huge public park at the border of the city as you leave it; a tad unfortunate, really, that the best aspect of the city only reveals itself upon your departure. I can´t wait to reach Leon in the next couple of days, which I´m told is stunning; fingers and sore toes crossed that it lives up to its billing.
Aches and pains are beginning to set in, but overall I´m handling them okay; nowt that a bit of Vaseline can´t cure. 41 km today and 38 km the day before, so progress is coming along nicely, though there´s a blister on my foot the size of a basketball; inevitable really. Luckily I was distracted from the pain earlier when a fly as big as a pigeon settled on my face. This has probably been the most significant problem thus far, unexpectedly and ludicrously: the flies. They just don´t leave you alone! Perhaps they´re attempting to lay eggs in my beard, God knows it dense enough to protect the foetal pests.
And my hostal yesterday (Boadillas del Camino) had a swimming pool. As in a proper one, not a bird bath or a chunky bucket they put chlorine in; so in general, the accommodation is impressive, asides from the cold shower I took at Hermanillos del Camino t´other day; they made the bathroom facilities at Auschwitz look luxurious, put it that way.
However, currently holed up in a cosy bar in a typically retro, insanely pretty Spanish village. They´re almost all too charming to distinguish, but more to come on my favourites. Screw Thomson Holidays and the Costa del Crime, this is the real Spain!
Jorge x
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