San Juan de Ortega

Marc asked me to wake him up the next morning so we could leave together. I generally woke up much earlier than him because when other people in the room were active it worked as my alarm.  I was flattered that he asked me to wake him up because it meant that he enjoyed my company enough to not leave our walking partnership to chance any longer. Simon would have also liked me to wake him, but he was in a different hostel so it wasn’t possible. 

That morning Marc and I had one of our first really serious conversations. We talked about the dreams we had had for the future and how life changes things. We also talked about relationships and love. It was nice that we could open up to each other. I tended to open up with pilgrims on the camino after about five minutes of walking with them, but Marc was different and it took a lot for him to share deep things about himself.

Soon, we befriended Henrik, a tall German man. Henrik’s pack was massive because he was carrying complete camping gear. He was very friendly and the three of us settled into a conversation about movies, then passed around the typical camino question; “Why are you here?”

My answer to that question changed throughout the camino. At first, I would say I was there to think and to figure things out, but that seemed like too vague a reason to walk 500 miles. To Henrik I answered, “I guess I’ll know when I get to Santiago.” 

The way that day was beautiful to me because it held a variety of landscapes. We saw rolling plains, fields of sunflowers, and ended with an easy road in a tall forest of pine trees. After the stark meseta it was a relief to have shade and greenery around us.

Someone carved faces on the sunflowers :)

Marc was worried that the albergue in the next town we reached would be full, because it was the only one within ten kilometers or so. However, his feared proved unfounded and we happily checked in and started our usual afternoon routines. 

Simon arrived while I was showering and we had lunch together in the hostel cafeteria. Simon was a lot more open than Marc and we had an interesting conversation about religion and spirituality that afternoon.  

Andreas also found his way to our hostel and the four of us came together in the evening to share another meal. This town was named San Juan de Ortega and soon it became clear that it was a town supported solely by pilgrims. There were a few houses, one small bar, and a few microwave dinners for sale at the albergue. There was no supermarket or bakery and no restaurants to be found. It was depressing, but we ended up laughing about it in the way hungry, tired people do to stay cheerful.

Eventually we decided to try the bar food. There weren’t many options so we all got tortillas with cheese. To my surprise, it was essentially an omelette, but didn’t taste bad at all!  At dinner Andreas talked some about his job as a cartographer. Marc was in administration and Simon was studying economics. Andreas and Marc had quit their jobs to do the camino and Simon would miss about three weeks of classes. By comparison, I felt that I was sacrificing almost nothing to be on the way. 

After dinner the four of us sat in the tiny village square and talked and teased each other. It was another pleasant evening. 

The lone hostel of San Juan de Ortega was clearly very old and not well-kept. I had been happy to find a free bottom bunk when we checked in, but I soon regretted that choice. The bunk above me was taken by a rather large man and as soon as he lay down I could seen the mattress sink down six inches closer to me. The bunk bed frame shuddered every time he moved and the springs that were the only thing keeping him from falling on me seemed ready to break at any minute.  I lay awake a long time that night both thinking about my time on the camino thus far and imagining newspaper headlines like, ‘Pilgrim Killed in Freak Bunk Bed Accident.’