An Irish Pub on the Camino
I planned today to walk 21km to Hornillos del Camino. I felt I did not need an early start, so I slept as late as I could, given the music and lights that start at 6:30am in the albergue.
I had two coffees at the bar across the street from the albergue, slowly getting ready for my day. I had bought a ton of food to make a pasta for dinner, and I had to figure out how to carry it all along. It made my bag ridiculously heavy. Tomatoes, zucchini, ravioli…so exciting!
As I left town, I ran into Janelle and Tanner, who actually started on the same day as me, but we have been playing leap frog most of the walk. We walked together 11km until finally an oasis…a shady coffee stop! We have begun the section called the Maseta. Long, flat, hot walking. ‘The view is in the sky, not the landscape’ apparently.
We continued to trudge onward the final 10km to town. Outside town, under a tree, stood an Irishman in red pants, strumming a guitar and singing. ‘Come see us at the Irish Pub at the far end of town! We will be doing yoga in the afternoon, and live music tonight!’
I stopped at the town store to cobble together something for sauce. They had red wine and pesto… Ok, fine by me! When I got to my albergue, I immediately started cooking. I plugged into a podcast and just jammed out while chopping and stewing.
Red wine/pesto sauce ain’t bad!
Tanner and Janelle decided to stay in this town, and I shared my meal with them, it was huge! Tanner invited us to join at the mass at 6pm. I decided to go with him. I could not follow any of the mass, as it was all in Spanish, but at the end, they did a ‘pilgrim blessing’ portion. All the pilgrims stayed behind, and the priest seemed to really have fun. He asked where everyone was from. He had handouts in all the languages and had people read sections in their language. He then insisted at least one person from each place share a song. People were reluctant, but he was getting through the crowd. No one from Canada or the US would go, so I delivered a (very bad) rendition of ‘go tell it on the mountain’, which seemed to be acceptable!!
Following church, we headed to the Irish pub. The story is that the owner, an Irish woman, was walking the Camino. She met a Spanish man in town. Now, their son, and the Irish pub, are both three years old. The Irishman in the red pants did not lie! His name is Charlie, he was walking the Camino two years ago, and ‘never left the bar.’ Now he plays music there.
It was a type 1 fun kind of day, singing along and enjoying the atmosphere. Today, life is good. Life is interesting. Life is weird.
