<Leaving Guemes was difficult. Frankly, I have seldom seen such depth of humanity either among the Chrisians I know or the other who claim to be moved by noble impulses. The dawn over the hills of Cantabria was beautiful. Pete and I sang the Gloria twice we were so filled with joy.
We walked for 4K through quiet farms in the hills, then we marched alongside a highway for 8K leading to the coastal town of Somo. There we were to catch a ferry across the mouth of a river and cross to the capital of Cantabria, Santander.
The ferry docks right next to the central downtown area. We walked to the Cathedral, but the archbishop was unavailable so we got our credentials stamped and moved on. It was busy downtown, full of civic buildings, high end shopping, fancy restaurants, and more people than I've encountered in a week. We found a Vodafone store and attempted to fix the 3G problem and were told in no uncertain terms---impossible with a Motorola phone (after about an hour of consultation, phone calls to tech types etc). We moved on and looked for lunch. The Camino followed a long pedestrian mall (over 2K I think) and we search for our stomachs' longing: Donner Kabob. We order, sit, start to eat and in walks a 19 or 20 year old with a backpack. He's a guy from Boston, attends Vanderbilt, lived in Spain during his junior year of HS, and now is waiting to meet a friend. Their plan is "to get shit-faced tonight, and start the Camino tomorrow." Nice plan fella. We wish him buen camino and push on. Everyone walks their own Camino eh? It can be no other way. I walk mine, Pete walks his, you walk your own. The best lesson my wife ever taught me was that my children must walk their own Camino (children, thank your mother again and again). So it was, and so it is.
The walk out of Santander was the walk from hell. It is noisy, cars are zipping hither and yon, the temp passes 30C (at or over 80F I think), there is not a cloud in the sky, and once we reach the area of big box stores and light industry, on the city periphery there is not one bit of shade to be found. There are no fountains anymore so instead of chugging on my water bottle and dousing my head at will, I must take sips only when we break. I chew gum to try to keep my mouth moist for the slog. And slog it is . . . We have heard from a Dutch pilgrim that there is a private albergue in a town called Boo de Pielagos 14K from Santander (about 10 miles), that's our destination. Two hours out of Santander the concrete nightmare ends, but we would welcome the fires of Hades as respite from the afternoon sun. We find a fountain in a village and cry out in jubilation, only to cry out in anger as no water flows as we pump. We trudge on.
In a town with no name we can find, we finally see an open bar. We leave our packs outside but bring our sweaty smell with us inside, every head turns. We ask for coco cola and as I sit I ask for agua (water). So far in Spain, my experience is that you get an 8.5 oz coke and a glass with no more than two and no more than 2 ice cubes. No one drinks water so you may get a small bottle of that too. The waitress asks "peregrinos?" We can only nod weakly in our weariness. Then, the first miracle happens. She brings our cokes and a liter and a half bottle of refrigerated water. "Da nada" Then as we sit and sip our cokes and guzzle our water, the second miracle occurs. Our waitress waltzes over to our table with two plates of cold bean salad left over from lunch. Pete and I both started to weep, overcome by her kindness, so simple and so pure. Travelers, hot and exhausted appear at her family's bar, and she goes out of her way to offer hospitality, so full nof grace. As we got up to leave refreshed in body, but even more refreshed in spirit, I said to her, "You are so kind. God knows your name." I have seldom been so certain of anything.
Today I shared prayers today with Penny S and Virginia D.
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