Following one of the Pilgrimage routes to Santiago de Compostela
Almaden de la Plata to El Real de la Jarra 21k
El Real de la Jarra to Monasterio 23k
Made a plan the night before between Astrid, James, Megan and myself to walk to El Real de la Jarra and see what the weather held for us at lunchtime before walking another 23k to Monasterio, if it rained we would all stay put in El Real. I rocked up after walking through some wonderful scenery, past cactus filled hillsides, pig & goat farms, through wooded river valleys, flower filled meadows, orchards full of Olive trees and lonely looking smallholdings.
The Albergue on the edge of town looked packed and the Dutch Pilgrims (not german as I had thought previously) and others were all happy to stay there, so I continued walking, noticing the Castle on the hill outside the Pueblo. It made the whole place look incredibly picturesque, shame I haven't got any photos of it, tired feet lead often to tired camera work.
Spotted Astrid and Megan making trips to shops and decided to try the market (small supermarket) to get fuel for my Swedish Army stove. It uses Methylated Spirit that you or I might use to clean paintbrushes after doing some decorating, its Spanish name is Alcohol de Quemar (Fire Water, Burning Alcohol) and it's very cheap at just 75 cents per 75ml which was perfect because I had a small bomb proof bottle for keeping it secure before my whole pack became flammable. Didn't want to crowd Astrid but she didn't seem keen to stop and talk anyway so I wandered into a tiny bar down the street and had a small beer plus the free tapas, it was the kind of bar the locals drink in, fairly grubby but loads of character, nut and seed shells and cigarette butts on the obviously well trod stone tiled floor. The weather didn't look good, I was joined by Megan, so we waited it out and it started raining soon after, I can only assume that James and Astrid got rather wet on their walk to Monasterio, which was rather ironic to my mind because I'd tried to insist that morning that Astrid should have my raincoat as she had no proper protection from the elements. Stubborn streak in full operation, she handed it back to me even after I said I'd throw it away if she didn't take it ;-)
Found a bigger bar that served proper food and had my usual Cola Cao (a high energy chocolate drink that originated in Spain and contains Cola nut extract, 8 Vitamins, Calcium, Phosphor and Iron, it's my favourite beverage on the Camino as I don't drink tea or coffee, plus it's good for me too aswell as tasty, so pretty much a no-brainer. I had a note in the limited information I was carrying that there was a private house with accomodation on Calle Real (Real Street). Finding the house of Concha at Number 70 and getting a quick look around the prospective room, Megan and I were very pleased with the price which was only two more euros than the fully booked Hostel, a much nicer bathroom than you usually get, an admittedly nasty looking half empty swimming pool, a well in the garden, washing and airing facilities and best of all single beds with proper bed linen, FLANNELETTE SHEETS!
I took a walk up to the Castle and the view was gorgeous after the most recent sharp shower had passed, catching up with Jacques and Pierre. I had been recommended by Concha to try the Meson Restaurant and within moments of setting off for dinner we collected other Pilgrims in our search for somewhere to have a drink while waiting for it to open after eight o'clock. Evening meals ought to be earlier for Pilgrims because we almost always get to bed by ten, on The Camino Frances in the North of Spain there are far more facilities geared up for the yearly influx of hundreds of thousands of Peregrinos, this route is much quieter, with far fewer places to stop during the day, far fewer hostels and it was becoming clear that my money was only going to last so long given the higher price of Tourist Hostels unless I started camping every night. That was never part of my plan because I wanted company in the evenings, not to do the whole walk alone or miss out on the communal atmosphere of the Albergues, despite the fact that I was carrying a stove, hammock and tarpaulin for exactly that need. I received a text from Astrid about staying in a Hostales (small higher priced Hostel) in Monasterio, replying that I wasn't going to make it there. I didn't want to walk too far too soon and forty odd kilometres this early in my trip just wasn't an option given the fairly poor state of the bottoms of both feet and the late hour. Deja Vu from my last trip...
Had dinner with Megan and Bob & Morag. who were also staying at Concha's. Two British expats they'd moved to the Murcia region of Spain and were walking together on the Camino. Bob had stories coming out of his ears which is great when all you want to do is eat , drink and listen to someone else talk. Bob's ears pricked up when I mentioned that I'm a gardener, because they have a 5000 square metre space just waiting to become a garden filled with fruit trees and especially raspberries as he's been unable to find anyone who can grow them there. I thought how wonderful it would be to spend a few weeks with some friends on a working holiday this autumn but stayed away from offering them my contact details, preferring to keep my own council until a later date, I was sure to be seeing them again at some point when I could take Bob aside and offer my services, it wasn't the time or place to be a jobbing landscaper. After a rather nice meal which I ordered as usual without actually knowing precisely what I would get, they have a peculiar way of serving the food in that you sometimes receive your main course while still working your way through the starter and your desert while still munching your main and often there are very few vegetables and almost no potato just meat. The wine in Spain is always great though so I filled up on that and we all retired to Conchas.
Statue of an Iberian Lynx in Real de la Jarra
Day 6 - April 14th 2010
The flannelette sheets were so comfortable but all beds in Spain are made up with a sheet, bedspread and blanket and with the sheets I was a little too hot and without a little too cold oh well, beggars can't be choosers. It was still the best nights sleep yet, even though I had told Megan to loudly say "Jon you're snoring" if I woke her up at all, which
she duly did and unable to drop off again but extremely grateful for my first several hours uninterrupted slumber, I retrieved my slightly damp washing from the line outside. It hadn't dried due to the overnight rain and so I attached it to my Backpack and prepared for the days walk. Trying to get ready without disturbing anyone else, given the fact that we were staying in someone's family home, I wrote in the visitors book (which is a good habit to get into when you're thankful for someone's hospitality).
It was nice and cool and still not yet fully daylight when I made my way through the streets looking for the Yellow Arrows and finding several picturesque views of ruined castles, strangely pyramidal hills, flooded parts of the path, fields full of livestock and oh Jacques and Pierre, can't help falling over them these days, they are so much fun and give me a chance to talk another language, one which I haven't spoken as much since I left school 20 years ago. I surprised myself although it was becoming increasingly more difficult to slip into English when my French failed as I was fully immersed in the Spanish culture by now. You start
to think in Spanish, feel partly Spanish, my accent is pretty good so often times I will start a conversation and then end up nodding a lot and picking up on the odd word that I understand, hand gestures and the tone in order to get the gist of what the locals are saying. Megan and I were walking together at times and we both saw a large animal run across a field, it wasn't a dog, a deer and certainly not a livestock breed, I am convinced it was a Lynx but it was just too far away to be sure. Stopping at a shop selling Iberian produce I bought a bottle of water and paid an extortionately high price for some cured Ham but god it was good. Packed that away for my lunchtime sandwich later on. The route now followed a main road and th
ere were no yellow arrows anywhere, just the small amount of notes I had with me to go on, Megan had caught me up again so we traced the route together and soon happened upon the only notable site to see on the route a Ermitage. Slightly disappointed at finding it in its location on an island between two main roads, deserted and derelict it was full of roadworkers rubbish and frankly tiny but how much room does a Hermit need? The path then took us through Eucalyptus woods and I found my new favourite wa
lking stick, my bamboo had shattered and so I'd given up on them, unable to find replacements. The Dutch pilgrims were ahead now having passed us and Megan and I separated again after a quick bite to eat which helpfully lightens your pack for the rest of the day. There is often a quandary that gives you much food for thought on this type of walk. You don't want to feel as though your imposing on other people, who in reality you've only just met, even if you'd love some company that day and at the same time they are thinking the same thing. You miss your friends when they're not with you and wish you were alone sometimes when they are. Go figure...
Strolling into Monasterio with the two gentlemen from Quebec and having a laugh really made the last few k's fly by, another reason to have some company at times. We all made a bee-line for the Hotel Moya, they booked rooms, I wandered off after a beer and a cola cao because it was prohibitively expensive.
El Real de la Jarra to Monasterio 23k
Made a plan the night before between Astrid, James, Megan and myself to walk to El Real de la Jarra and see what the weather held for us at lunchtime before walking another 23k to Monasterio, if it rained we would all stay put in El Real. I rocked up after walking through some wonderful scenery, past cactus filled hillsides, pig & goat farms, through wooded river valleys, flower filled meadows, orchards full of Olive trees and lonely looking smallholdings.
The Albergue on the edge of town looked packed and the Dutch Pilgrims (not german as I had thought previously) and others were all happy to stay there, so I continued walking, noticing the Castle on the hill outside the Pueblo. It made the whole place look incredibly picturesque, shame I haven't got any photos of it, tired feet lead often to tired camera work.
Spotted Astrid and Megan making trips to shops and decided to try the market (small supermarket) to get fuel for my Swedish Army stove. It uses Methylated Spirit that you or I might use to clean paintbrushes after doing some decorating, its Spanish name is Alcohol de Quemar (Fire Water, Burning Alcohol) and it's very cheap at just 75 cents per 75ml which was perfect because I had a small bomb proof bottle for keeping it secure before my whole pack became flammable. Didn't want to crowd Astrid but she didn't seem keen to stop and talk anyway so I wandered into a tiny bar down the street and had a small beer plus the free tapas, it was the kind of bar the locals drink in, fairly grubby but loads of character, nut and seed shells and cigarette butts on the obviously well trod stone tiled floor. The weather didn't look good, I was joined by Megan, so we waited it out and it started raining soon after, I can only assume that James and Astrid got rather wet on their walk to Monasterio, which was rather ironic to my mind because I'd tried to insist that morning that Astrid should have my raincoat as she had no proper protection from the elements. Stubborn streak in full operation, she handed it back to me even after I said I'd throw it away if she didn't take it ;-)
Found a bigger bar that served proper food and had my usual Cola Cao (a high energy chocolate drink that originated in Spain and contains Cola nut extract, 8 Vitamins, Calcium, Phosphor and Iron, it's my favourite beverage on the Camino as I don't drink tea or coffee, plus it's good for me too aswell as tasty, so pretty much a no-brainer. I had a note in the limited information I was carrying that there was a private house with accomodation on Calle Real (Real Street). Finding the house of Concha at Number 70 and getting a quick look around the prospective room, Megan and I were very pleased with the price which was only two more euros than the fully booked Hostel, a much nicer bathroom than you usually get, an admittedly nasty looking half empty swimming pool, a well in the garden, washing and airing facilities and best of all single beds with proper bed linen, FLANNELETTE SHEETS!
I took a walk up to the Castle and the view was gorgeous after the most recent sharp shower had passed, catching up with Jacques and Pierre. I had been recommended by Concha to try the Meson Restaurant and within moments of setting off for dinner we collected other Pilgrims in our search for somewhere to have a drink while waiting for it to open after eight o'clock. Evening meals ought to be earlier for Pilgrims because we almost always get to bed by ten, on The Camino Frances in the North of Spain there are far more facilities geared up for the yearly influx of hundreds of thousands of Peregrinos, this route is much quieter, with far fewer places to stop during the day, far fewer hostels and it was becoming clear that my money was only going to last so long given the higher price of Tourist Hostels unless I started camping every night. That was never part of my plan because I wanted company in the evenings, not to do the whole walk alone or miss out on the communal atmosphere of the Albergues, despite the fact that I was carrying a stove, hammock and tarpaulin for exactly that need. I received a text from Astrid about staying in a Hostales (small higher priced Hostel) in Monasterio, replying that I wasn't going to make it there. I didn't want to walk too far too soon and forty odd kilometres this early in my trip just wasn't an option given the fairly poor state of the bottoms of both feet and the late hour. Deja Vu from my last trip...
Had dinner with Megan and Bob & Morag. who were also staying at Concha's. Two British expats they'd moved to the Murcia region of Spain and were walking together on the Camino. Bob had stories coming out of his ears which is great when all you want to do is eat , drink and listen to someone else talk. Bob's ears pricked up when I mentioned that I'm a gardener, because they have a 5000 square metre space just waiting to become a garden filled with fruit trees and especially raspberries as he's been unable to find anyone who can grow them there. I thought how wonderful it would be to spend a few weeks with some friends on a working holiday this autumn but stayed away from offering them my contact details, preferring to keep my own council until a later date, I was sure to be seeing them again at some point when I could take Bob aside and offer my services, it wasn't the time or place to be a jobbing landscaper. After a rather nice meal which I ordered as usual without actually knowing precisely what I would get, they have a peculiar way of serving the food in that you sometimes receive your main course while still working your way through the starter and your desert while still munching your main and often there are very few vegetables and almost no potato just meat. The wine in Spain is always great though so I filled up on that and we all retired to Conchas.
Statue of an Iberian Lynx in Real de la Jarra
Day 6 - April 14th 2010
The flannelette sheets were so comfortable but all beds in Spain are made up with a sheet, bedspread and blanket and with the sheets I was a little too hot and without a little too cold oh well, beggars can't be choosers. It was still the best nights sleep yet, even though I had told Megan to loudly say "Jon you're snoring" if I woke her up at all, which
she duly did and unable to drop off again but extremely grateful for my first several hours uninterrupted slumber, I retrieved my slightly damp washing from the line outside. It hadn't dried due to the overnight rain and so I attached it to my Backpack and prepared for the days walk. Trying to get ready without disturbing anyone else, given the fact that we were staying in someone's family home, I wrote in the visitors book (which is a good habit to get into when you're thankful for someone's hospitality).
It was nice and cool and still not yet fully daylight when I made my way through the streets looking for the Yellow Arrows and finding several picturesque views of ruined castles, strangely pyramidal hills, flooded parts of the path, fields full of livestock and oh Jacques and Pierre, can't help falling over them these days, they are so much fun and give me a chance to talk another language, one which I haven't spoken as much since I left school 20 years ago. I surprised myself although it was becoming increasingly more difficult to slip into English when my French failed as I was fully immersed in the Spanish culture by now. You start
to think in Spanish, feel partly Spanish, my accent is pretty good so often times I will start a conversation and then end up nodding a lot and picking up on the odd word that I understand, hand gestures and the tone in order to get the gist of what the locals are saying. Megan and I were walking together at times and we both saw a large animal run across a field, it wasn't a dog, a deer and certainly not a livestock breed, I am convinced it was a Lynx but it was just too far away to be sure. Stopping at a shop selling Iberian produce I bought a bottle of water and paid an extortionately high price for some cured Ham but god it was good. Packed that away for my lunchtime sandwich later on. The route now followed a main road and th
ere were no yellow arrows anywhere, just the small amount of notes I had with me to go on, Megan had caught me up again so we traced the route together and soon happened upon the only notable site to see on the route a Ermitage. Slightly disappointed at finding it in its location on an island between two main roads, deserted and derelict it was full of roadworkers rubbish and frankly tiny but how much room does a Hermit need? The path then took us through Eucalyptus woods and I found my new favourite wa
lking stick, my bamboo had shattered and so I'd given up on them, unable to find replacements. The Dutch pilgrims were ahead now having passed us and Megan and I separated again after a quick bite to eat which helpfully lightens your pack for the rest of the day. There is often a quandary that gives you much food for thought on this type of walk. You don't want to feel as though your imposing on other people, who in reality you've only just met, even if you'd love some company that day and at the same time they are thinking the same thing. You miss your friends when they're not with you and wish you were alone sometimes when they are. Go figure...Strolling into Monasterio with the two gentlemen from Quebec and having a laugh really made the last few k's fly by, another reason to have some company at times. We all made a bee-line for the Hotel Moya, they booked rooms, I wandered off after a beer and a cola cao because it was prohibitively expensive.
The fact that these walks take weeks to complete means that the majority of pilgrims are old enough to have retired or have the money and time to do it justice, younger pilgrims like me (haha at 37 I can honestly call myself young in this context) are pretty rare, so if you're thinking about doing this walk that might be a problem for some people or an attractive aspect of it to others. The nicest people in the world are the only ones prepared to take on such a journey. I can count on the thumbs of both hands the number of Pilgrims on my two trips that I disliked either because of their attitude or their reasons for undertaking it (like the guy whose wife didn't understand him). Some people use it as an escape rather than a turning point in their life, or a time to give spirituality a chance, or walking it in memory of someone they loved, or because they're suffering from an illness like Paco or my friend Luis from last year. I don't mind the ones who think it's just a physical challenge, they'll soon find that there's is much more than meets the eye to The Camino...
Your ego is used to 'protecting' you in your day to day life at home, keeping seemingly over-friendly people at bay, making you think twice about accepting an offer of help because there must be an ulterior motive? Your instincts are undermined by it but they come to the fore here and your ego must take a back seat if you are to be open and capable of making the right choices, offering help when it seems to be desired. Trust yourself, trust other people...
Megan is on the pavement up ahead so we make our way to the Tourist Information Office and find the Dutch Pilgrims have the same plan. The very helpful attendant, as they all are, hands us all maps of the town, marks places we ask to see, gives us a list of Hostels and Albergues down the route including prices, number of beds, phone numbers (as you can book beds ahead of time on this Camino.) and also explains that the best place to stay is the Hostales Extremadura and where it can be found. Traipsing down there it turns out it's where Astrid and James stayed the night before although somehow they seem to have paid half what we are charged, I put that down to her greater command of the language. The manager hands out keys having allocating the rooms to the men, two to a room and gives Megan her own one to herself, some Spanish people frown on anything other than same sex accommodation arrangements ;-) I'm going to be sharing with one of the Dutchmen so we find our beds and take turns to shower. There are two keys to each room on the keyring so I thoughtfully take one off and hand it to Dirk so that he can go and find Wi-Fi (pronounced comically wee-fee in Spain and constantly so by my new Dutch friend who had a tiny laptop with him for writing his daily blog and seems obsessed). I tell him that it's available and free at the Hotel Moya, just buy a drink and sit in the bar, and I jump in the shower.
Your ego is used to 'protecting' you in your day to day life at home, keeping seemingly over-friendly people at bay, making you think twice about accepting an offer of help because there must be an ulterior motive? Your instincts are undermined by it but they come to the fore here and your ego must take a back seat if you are to be open and capable of making the right choices, offering help when it seems to be desired. Trust yourself, trust other people...
Feeling refreshed and wanting to try to find Internet access myself I get dressed, hang my washing out the window as I don't want to pay to use a drier for a few items and find that Dirk has kindly locked the door behind him. Trying my key I find it doesn't work and wait for a few minutes, occasionally trying again every now and then. Eventually, my ego suppressed and my desire to escape growing I start calling out to Megan in the hope that she's still here in her room down the corridor. After a few tries, I hear her door and then a voice saying "is someone calling me?". I make the obvious admission, "Um yes, I seem to be locked in my room". Laughing and offering to go and speak to the manager Megan disappears for a few minutes. Coming back to reveal that the manager isn't around I sit tight and turn on the t.v. ending up watching a bit of a tennis match. He's in a bar down the street and comes back finally to reveal that he doesn't have a master key. The keyring has a key to our door and one to the door downstairs so that we can come and go as we please. SHIT!!! I explain where my room-mate is and Megan goes above and beyond by walking all the way to the Hotel Moya to find Dirk and retrieve our key. I can imagine that was an interesting conversation, "Hello, can I have the key to your room please?".
Coming back after what seemed like quite a while, ;-) I've been stuck in here for an hour and a half now, Megan tortures me for a few moments to comic effect and I offer her a very large beer for releasing me from my temporary lockdown, then finally using my trump card and promising her a lengthy foot rub too. FREEDOM!
I want to visit the Monastery that presumably gave its name to the town Monasterio, so does Megan and also Dirk who has come back from the Hotel Moya. Using my mobile I phone a taxi company and get hung up on because I couldn't get my point across. Hmm small setback so I phone another and
he's very patient with me. Not sure if he'll actually turn up but we wait on the pavement outside and within a few minutes a private hire cab arrives. Either my Spanish is improving or this guy managed to work out what I meant and we speed off on a scenic drive to the highest point in the region of Badajoz. The Monastery is closed, typical of my luck when it comes to this sort of thing, but the views are spectacular from here and we are able to wander around and take it all in.
Our driver is quite willing to wait while we take pictures and videos and read the many information plaques situated around the Monastery.
Getting back to Monasterio it's time to go to dinner, I suggest the Hotel Moya but Megan wants to try a particular bar/ restaurant closer to our hostel so I relent because I'm not hung up on details, the flow is easy to go with once your in it. I ask if there's a Pilgrim Menu, the guy behind the bar is grumpy and unhelpful but we are shown through to a table in the dining room. It seems as though there isn't a choice because he brings our starter in and plonks it down, just as we are about to tuck in who should appear but Bob and Morag, who join us. It's seafood soup and very tasty so perhaps this was a good choice after all. It's another opportunity for Bob to exercise his jaws and reveal all sorts of tales from his rather interesting life. We eat up and finding we're overcharged I curse the grumpy guy under my breath and we go back to the Hostel. Sitting and chatting for a while in Megs room because Dirk isn't back and he's got the key, I am true to my word and her feet are killing her so Meg sits back and regales me with her own story while I work on her poor tootsies. Bidding her a goodnight I decide to pop to a bar, I don't want to turn in yet.
The closest one is pretty full of football fans, there's a night game on and Barcelona are playing, I've got my Didmarton football shirt on and it's a great icebreaker. Sitting and drinking and smoking watching a masterclass by Messi and his mates over their opposition. I love Spain I reallly do...
I want to visit the Monastery that presumably gave its name to the town Monasterio, so does Megan and also Dirk who has come back from the Hotel Moya. Using my mobile I phone a taxi company and get hung up on because I couldn't get my point across. Hmm small setback so I phone another and
he's very patient with me. Not sure if he'll actually turn up but we wait on the pavement outside and within a few minutes a private hire cab arrives. Either my Spanish is improving or this guy managed to work out what I meant and we speed off on a scenic drive to the highest point in the region of Badajoz. The Monastery is closed, typical of my luck when it comes to this sort of thing, but the views are spectacular from here and we are able to wander around and take it all in.
Our driver is quite willing to wait while we take pictures and videos and read the many information plaques situated around the Monastery.
Getting back to Monasterio it's time to go to dinner, I suggest the Hotel Moya but Megan wants to try a particular bar/ restaurant closer to our hostel so I relent because I'm not hung up on details, the flow is easy to go with once your in it. I ask if there's a Pilgrim Menu, the guy behind the bar is grumpy and unhelpful but we are shown through to a table in the dining room. It seems as though there isn't a choice because he brings our starter in and plonks it down, just as we are about to tuck in who should appear but Bob and Morag, who join us. It's seafood soup and very tasty so perhaps this was a good choice after all. It's another opportunity for Bob to exercise his jaws and reveal all sorts of tales from his rather interesting life. We eat up and finding we're overcharged I curse the grumpy guy under my breath and we go back to the Hostel. Sitting and chatting for a while in Megs room because Dirk isn't back and he's got the key, I am true to my word and her feet are killing her so Meg sits back and regales me with her own story while I work on her poor tootsies. Bidding her a goodnight I decide to pop to a bar, I don't want to turn in yet.
The closest one is pretty full of football fans, there's a night game on and Barcelona are playing, I've got my Didmarton football shirt on and it's a great icebreaker. Sitting and drinking and smoking watching a masterclass by Messi and his mates over their opposition. I love Spain I reallly do...
