Meseta days

We have made it to the Meseta, and the weather is sunny and warm, but not too hot yet. These legs of the journey are mostly flat, through fertile croplands and small towns.

We left Castille, but I have to mention a bit of local cuisine which demands attention: red beans and sausage. It comes as the first course on many pilgrim’s menus, and of course it is delicious. But note the size of the serving bowl in the picture: at least three full servings! I told the waiter I wanted a soup, not a swim.

The Meseta, or Spanish plains, is the bane of many pilgrims, for it is hot, flat, and devoid of shade. That which plagued us earlier (cooler temperatures) has now returned as a blessing, so we are enjoying very comfortable 70 degree days full of sunshine.

Judy resumed carrying her pack, and we reinstituted a 5 minute rest break every hour which really rejuvenates her. I have been working to reserve us a private room each night, and aiming for a more reasonable 20 kilometer a day average. The churches are as spectacular as before: some Gothic, some Romanesque, always some Baroque inside.

The towns just come and go, like the scenery: Frómista, Carrión, Calzadilla, Sahagún. Some of the small villages are nothing more than several albergues and a bar or two, with a bunch of empty houses and a population of a hundred or so. Without the Camino, they would be history.

We did have one very interesting evening in Calzadilla. About 1:30 am, a bright light over our door woke us up: the fire alarm! I could hear the alarm beeping in the hall, but the door was cool, so I went out to investigate. I ran into another pilgrim,an Englishman, who was also wondering what was going on. No one from the hostel was around. I found a way to turn off the beeping, but the power remained cut off and the emergency floodlights stayed on. We inspected the building and found nothing: no smoke, no fire, but still an active alarm. The other pilgrim went out into the town to look for the owner at another building, while I continued to fiddle with the alarm.

Suddenly, a side door flew open, and there stood the owner, naked except for a pair of speedo-style underwear, and swearing a blue streak in Spanish. I explained in English that the alarm had been going off for over 30 minutes, that we did not know what to do, and that another pilgrim was out in the town looking for him. The owner swore some more, indicating to me this was not the first time the alarm malfunctioned, that we had to reset the master fuse, and why would anybody be outside? He reset the alarm, closed the door and turned off the lights!

So I waited until my colleague came back. He had woken half the town, but now there was no alarm. I got the owner to let him back in, and off we went to sleep. Except now I can’t rid myself of the vision of the swearing-hostel-owner-in-skyvvies. I may need Lasik when we get back.

We’ll be in León next, preparing for the final third of the Camino.