6th stage: Sahagun-El Burgo Ranero (16 km trails, tot. 143, 6.30-11 hours of travel). must learn to accept their limitations. After just 140 km my tendons are already calling for mercy, and I do not want anybody tells you that they are ruthless. A little 'idiot, but not ruthless.
note: the backpack weighs a fifth of me.
It enriches the gallery of characters: Yesterday a nice lady from Lodi, extroverted and polyglot, he told me among other things that the girl is very talkative, just to be unlikely, a therapist Hungarian. In return I will have proved what I had read on its shell, that has taken a vow of silence.
Iera evening instead had dinner with a textile worker from Bergamo who has read the 'Nicomachean Ethics and, depending on the availability of leave, makes the journey in three parts: the last summer from St. Jean to Burgos, since this year where can you get in Galicia, next year comes to an end. And this morning another worker
Lombard, this time of Varese. This has nothing particularly unusual, except that it has covered 53 km yesterday. I today I gave up after 16, already shaky, and the incredulous hospitalera (an old woman who has turned his home into a refuge Pilgrim) scolded me on my reading Credencial coming from Sahagun, "Sahagun ¿? ¡Muy little."
'Sti cocks lady, I told her the shelter of a strong language barrier.
Appendix at 15:15.
El Burgo Ranero seems, in the name and appearance, the ghost town of a western movie. Old dilapidated houses with wooden doors that creak in the wind, rolling bales of hay in the distance (I swear). Like the other villages of Castilla y León, is located in the yellow fields and lives of welcome to pilgrims. Come to think is very interesting: a series of remote villages survive thanks to the fact that every year hundreds of thousands of lunatics walking along the same route as the ninth century that hundreds of thousands of travel for 813 crazy crazy thought he had discovered the tomb of the apostle James.
That seems so simplistic, I know. I do not want to belittle the symbolic value, the sense of the sacred and the like. It was just to say how funny life. This
albergue I particularly like, is like being at home (and sleep in fifteen, with only one bathroom). The guests are all strangers from various sources: Denmark, Poland, Australia, Germany, France. As an Italian I'm the one who should understand better what hospitalera says. Hence the paradox that, with that little 'I learned English in schools medie, mi trovo a fare da interprete fra persone che parlano lingue a me ignote.
Lo ripeto: quant'è buffa la vita.
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