I think I left you with Marlene, yet another German. I noticed she had a small diamond in her front tooth and commented on it. "I had it done when I was 13" she says, "but I'm not sure I like it anymore." I bite my tongue and reassure her it looks great. A bit like Erica the other night; she had an enormous tattoo running down her arm. A collection of animals of her state (fox, bear, deer...) "I still need to add some rabbits and maybe..." Rabbits are nice I agree sincerely (I like rabbits, although I have my doubts about having them permanently engraved on my arm).
Jacques is French (with a name like Jacques he could hardly be anything else). He's riding the Camino on a well-equipped bike that's obviously seen some km. "This is my fifth time" he says "aller-retour". He's also biked across Europe "10 countries". I meet him again later on the day; he's sitting by the road having a snack. I meet him again two days later in Burgos as we're preparing to leave. I note that he's riding without a helmet. "Yes, I am ashamed" he tries to convince me, but it's not comfortable.
Coming into Burgos, I am following my nose to find the nice bicycle track that follows the river, rather than the official route that goes along the roads. I briefly consider resorting to the GPS, but remember that the phone is still not talking to me after its toilet incident. And I generally am pretty good with direction, and know I am close to the river. It's just a question of finding the best path. A couple appears in the distance, notices me and calls to me. You're going to the cathedral? Go that way, it's much nicer. The guy even comes over to explain, and I am on exactly the path I needed. They could have just kept walking.
The path along the river is indeed nice, looking a bit like snow has just fallen, but the thick white piles along the bath come from the trees.
In the albergue there's no sheet or pillowcase, which is unusual. I see some people doing their washing and go to the first guy I see there to ask him where you go to get sheets (some beds have them). He looks at me like I'm from another planet. Actually, I think I must be looking at him a bit the same way. He's got lovely blue finger nails (with gold glitter) close-cropped hair and rather delicate (made up?) features. He's about my age. I notice he's wearing colourful ankle warmers and a nice floral scarf. He seems ill at ease talking to me.
I see the same man later chatting with someone. Except now he's wearing a large blond wig and lipstick. The next morning as I'm leaving Burgos on the Camino, I see him again. He's carrying a rucksack. Now he has a brunette wig on and he's wearing a short skirt over leggings. Fascinating.
Miguel, the Spaniard in the bunk under mine "from Segovia" is a man of few words and no English. He's up at 5 am (thanks Miguel) and is gone by 6.
Still at the municipal albergue in Burgos, after registering with the guy at the desk (his small son is handling the money) I am shown a young woman who is to explain where I should find my bed (and perhaps also explain the rules). She doesn't speak a word of English, nor, interestingly, Spanish. Turns out she's Hungarian, perhaps some volunteer programme. Still, it seems an odd choice for a guide. She is, not surprisingly, no help whatsoever in answering my later question about sheets. A helpful German (again!) woman understands my request and translates it into Spanish. The Hungarian girl just looks stunned.
An Italian guy I am sharing the room with tonight (it's the overflow room of the albergue, there's about 20 beds) comes to me in a conspirational manner (we have some French in common) and says "Grizzly" like I am supposed to understand what he's talking about. Quite some discussions later, it transpires that he's talking about a particular guy who's in bed (it's only 4pm) commenting on how much he snores!
No comments:
Post a Comment