I cannot seem to find my way back into a draft so that is why I keep continuing with a new blog. Mike if there's a way idont know about please let me know.
The German woman who iscompleting her camino also is struggling with blisters.
I have decided to take today off and will busit to the next town. I am very tired. Yesterday my feet felt like o was carrying cement blocks. So in listening to my bodythat is what i feel I need to do.
The countryside here is breathtaking. We walk right through vinyards then see whole vistas of fields and vinyards and streams. Sheila my Irish friend heard on her descent into a beautiful valley a booming Spanish voice singing Danny Boy. She was in tears with the sheer beauty and coincidence. Stories like this abound here.
Nick was telling me that a few days ago because it was the anniversary of his fathers death at 65 years of age. This year Nick is 65 so it was a thoughtful time. His father smoked lucky strikes and his brother wrote a poem to his father called lucky strike. On that day Nick saw 2empty packages of lucky strikes on the path - never seen before nor since.
When I arrived into Logrono, which is quite a big town, it was CRAZY - like happens in Vancouver when the Canucks wins a big game well perhaps it's not quite Spanish style....
Wine and beer was flowing everywhere and all that goes with lots of consumption of alcohol. The noise was deafening. Finding a path through the crowds was a challenge.
One Spanish man who went out of his way to help me find my hotel explained thatthis was a celebration of the first wine harvest. And did it flow.
I have lost track of Katie. She broke her camera and also wanted to send off some things to lighten her load, so motored on when I wanted to stop for a cup of tea. That is how things go here and Im learning to flow with it noticing my patterns of response.
Along the way I met two dilightful french men from Tulouse. One had arthritic knees and hobbled side to side as he walked. But could he move! I couldn't keep up to him.
Two little interesting tidbits: one day when everyone was desperately wanting something to eat there was a sign promising various foods. At the top of the hill before leaving town, there was a coke vending machine behind a locked iron fence but sufficiently accessible to obtain a drink. The other was a vending machine that offered as an option the coquille st Jacques (shell of st James) that is the symbol of the camino pilgrim.
So I am off now to Santo Domingo de la Calzada. Heather
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