Crazy start :Oct 8, Monday
I understood that I paid for two nights room and would pay for breakfast this morning. When I went down to the Cafè, the man behind the counter was confused. He called Elena. She questioned if I paid for breakfast with my room. I said “no.” She asked what time I was leaving and said she would tell her family that I could stay in my room until noon. I thanked her for everything. She invited me back.
In San Ramon I was the only woman in the truck stop Hostel. Here, I was the only woman. The difference is that I felt much more safe in San Ramon.
The man in the room next to mine came and went at least 30 times within one hour. I didn’t know what he was doing. I kept hearing his key turn and his door open and close. He was loud and frequently spoke through the walls to men he knew in other rooms. Of course, I had no clue what they were talking about. I think they were speaking French. I was hoping that he would settle down after he ate some dinner or I was not going to get a wink of sleep.
A couple of the men from the Hostel come to eat at Royo’s, the same place I was eating. They recognized me from when they first arrived and I was sitting out front in the cold breeze and warm sun. Other than the Hostel, the cafe and bar were closed because it was Sunday. The men acknowledged me. I was grateful that they chose to eat at a separate table. I didn’t want to struggle with French tonight.
I wasn’t even certain what I was going to eat. I ordered it but I wasn’t sure what it would be. I decided not to think about it and be surprised.
I had a salad, no surprise there . It was the grilled sausages that I found interesting. It was a plate of sausage that was sliced in small pieces, much the way I cut pepperoni at an angle, and grilled. They were tasty and filling. I couldn’t finish them. I asked to have them wrapped and I took them for today’s lunch.
Since the breakfast didn’t work out at Elena’s, I decided to eat, rather than carry some of the food I had. For breakfast: yogurt, bread and some of the sausage. It is pretty spicy and burns my tongue. I like it and eat it in small amounts. Perfect and less to carry. This gave me an early start.
I packed and strapped and was out the door. Just as I was asking directions about the bus that I expected to take in a couple of hours, the woman pointed across the street seeing a bus there, and said, “PRONTO.” I took off across the street as others were boarding the bus. I asked the driver and yes, he was going to Zaragoza. I hopped in and paid up. Sitting across from a woman and her mother we attempted a little communication which evolved into several passengers asking questions about the Camino. She helped release myself from the straps of my pack. They looked at my guidebook and shook their heads because it was in English.
I opened the book and showed them the map explaining the difference between Camino de Santiago and Camino Ignaciano. They nodded, understanding.
Then I showed them the map of Zaragoza to Fuentes del Ebro because this was terrain they would know. They enjoyed seeing the route and the elevations for each days walk.
I put the guide away. The woman across from me explained that I should stay on the bus till the end. I assumed that meant the Terminal. However, when she said to get off, the end of the line was NOT at the Terminal as I expected. It was on some street unknown to me. I had no clue where I was. But with all the people and buildings around I didn’t feel nearly as baffled as the day I was put off the bus on the desolate highway. Maybe my trust is getting broken in?
I got off because everyone did. Then I quickly got back on to show the driver my schedule and ask how to get to the Terminal. He didn’t have a clue how he could respond to me. I could tell he was suggesting another bus.
I asked how far the Terminal was from here. It always surprises me how people simply assume that where I want to go is too far to walk. I asked how many kilometers. He hesitated. I pointed in the direction that he did and he nodded.
When I got off the second time, I noticed a sign pointing the way to the Terminal. I quickly entered the info on Google Maps, saw that it was a mere 2 miles and took off attempting to get to the station before the next train to Fraga.
I read the schedule. It said there was a train leaving for Fraga at 11:00. I should just be able to make it. I had about 50 minutes to walk the 2 miles. I would need a few minutes to get my ticket and find the bus.
I put some steam in my step in order to make up for a couple of misguided turns that cost me a couple of minutes. I was gaining on the clock and kept moving.
I began to mistrust the info I had given Google Maps. I stopped to quickly check that I was in fact headed to the Terminal. I was. And I was playing it close.
I was so grateful to all the energies supporting me as I journeyed. At the same time, I knew that I had planned on a later bus. It was okay to arrive later, but I still moved full speed ahead.
I saw a bus approach as I was about to cross the street and it said it was going to the Terminal. I knocked on the bus door. The driver opened it. I got in. I asked if he was going to the Station and he affirmed that he was. Asked if I could get on here. He consented. I paid. Off we went. I didn’t know if this would take more or less time than walking. I only had another 25 minutes or so to walk.
I began to recognize places that I walked passed when first arriving here In Zaragoza. I knew we were close to the Station and I would have enough time to ask my questions and get to the bus. This unexpected ride gave me an additional 15 minutes.
The information woman was the same one I spoke with when I took the bus to Fuentes del Ebro. At that time, she wrote on the schedule that I should take bus #35 while emphatically saying to take #53. I got it. Don’t listen to what is said, listen to what isn’t said but meant. I think this applies to many situations in life. Discerning is an acquired skill that I must continually hone. Watch for the energy and emphasis.
That moment has stayed with me. It struck me as funny, because of how serious and directive she was, however, it had new depth when I phoned a Hostel and couldn’t understand why Victor was having such a difficult time taking my reservation. I thought, “he is making this so much more difficult than it needs to be.”
It wasn’t until we said ‘adios’ and discontinued the call with the understanding that I would be there Miércoles, Wednesday, that I realized why he was so confused. I insisted that I would be there on once de Octubre, the 10th of October. Once is the 11th! Poor Victor. I will be the one red faced when we meet on Wednesday. I hope I have a room.
Back to the Lady in information. She spoke more English today than when we first met. Maybe I passed some kind of unspoken test. I showed her my schedule and she wagged her head telling me I couldn’t take the bus I rushed here to take.
Just as I was about to refute her I saw the problem, I was looking at the Sabado, Saturday, schedule. Today is Lunes, Monday, and I am back to my original plan: to leave Zaragoza at 14:30,which is 2:30. Arriving in Fraga at 16:20, 4:20. That should give me ample time to find my home for the night. Waiting at the bus station since 10:30 a.m. provided good time to concentrate on writing.
The bus was on time and off we went. My backpack and staff were stored under the bus. I like that practice. I don’t have to sit with them or hold them.
It took a couple of hours to make the drive to Fraga. There are a couple of small towns that I chose not to stop in. This is truly a desert area and very little here. That part of the Camino is more about the silence of the interior walk and surviving the brutal heat in this desert like land. Not much to do or explore in the towns.
The bus arrived in Fraga and I got out at the town center. I crossed the street to an optical store and talked with the person there asking help in locating the Hostal Oasis on Google Maps. With her help Google finally found it.
She explained that where I was going was 5 minutes by car and nearly 2 hours walking. I told her that was fine and please point me in the correct direction to get started.
I asked to use her ‘banyo’ but that was more than she was willing to share with this hobo Pilgrim she had just helped She directed me across the street back to the bus station to a public restroom.
Relieved and excited to test out my foot, I started walking. It was at least 6 miles and I had already walked couple of miles this morning. This would be a good test for my foot.
The walk to the Hostal Oasis was a bit tough for more than one reason. It started out over the bridge across the River Cinco. Then it took me up into the mountain labyrinth through the old houses on the hillside. It was impossible to follow the directions since there were no obvious street signs. It was straight up and I strained a little with the weight of the pack. Remember, I have only been walking in towns not in the hills and mountains. When I reached the top the view was beautiful.
As difficult as the climb was I was not out of breath. But feeling the strain of the climb and the confusion of having to re-route several times in order to find my way out of the Labyrinthine maze of streets.
At last I came out of the maze to a paved road that led out of Fraga. Google was very trustworthy once it could direct along definitive roadways.
REFLECTION:
This morning as I traveled to Zaragoza I noticed that gorgeous sky with feathery clouds glimmering the rising sun rays. They were illuminated by the sun so that my eyes could not focus on them. I was blinded by the white light of the sun. I thought of Ari’El’s comments about his Seraphim fiery wings being more than any human could behold. I felt that I was experiencing Ari’El’s presence in a profound extended moment of awareness.
Tonight as I walk to Hostal Oasis, I am struck once again with the setting sun behind me in radiant splendor through the gentle clouds of evening. Again, too much to gaze into, I asked my camera to capture what it could of this radiant sunset because I always want to remember this closeness of Angels throughout this Camino.
Whenever I think of being afraid, I remember that I am not alone and more has been provided than I could ever dream to request.
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Walking around one of the roundabouts I see a Civil Guard car parked in a remote spot. The two police men were outside the car getting their protective vests on as they stood there talking and pointing to the thick brush that I have been passing along this road. They watch me approach, there is no one else around. I ask what they are looking for in the brush. I don’t know if they don’t understand my question or if they don’t want to answer me. It is obvious that something is going on. The taller of the two asks where I am from. The shorter one understands my response and explains. The taller explains that I am a long way from home. I whip out my Camino guidebook and show them the map of what I am doing. They asked, “sola?” I affirm. They smile and being aware that I do not yet have a home for the evening while the sun is setting, I need to move on.
Since I didn’t get arrested or put into the Civil Guard for vagrancy or illegally walking on the highway, I waved ‘Adios’ and stepped onward.
I see a couple of buildings. The highway sign indicates km 442 which I know is the exit for my home. I arrive for the evening, just as my phone is ready to say enough for this day. I turn it off and arrive safely.
Outside on the steps there is a man standing who greets me with English. Michael is a cyclist from the UK. So wonderful to hear a familiar tongue. He sees that I am relieved to arrive and tired. He suggests that we meet for dinner near 9:00 which is normal for here. I consent and go inside with him to be greeted by name, as Elizabeth remembers my call. She is a young woman who has worked here a short time and is not so sure she wants this job. All depends on whether or not they pay her enough on November 1st.
She gets me checked in, assigns me a room and all is well. I have a little over an hour to shower and freshen up before dinner.
I hear a cock crow. It is a strange time of day for a cock to crow. As I write this page I am sitting outside on the warming sun. It is a little after 11:00 and I hear the cock crow. He must sleep in on Monday.
Michael is a retired teacher/ administrator. He has a wife who is a nurse and couldn’t get the time off to join him. He is the very proud grandfather of six little ones. All three of his daughters were pregnant at the same time. The first baby born will be one year in early December. His smile is huge when he speaks of the little ones. One daughter lives in Barcelona married to a Catalan man. One is in New Zealand where he lived for a while.
Every person’s story is rich and meaningful. Again the words are the least important message in the story of one’s life. Watching his face, his eyes, his glee. Hearing about how the wind was at his back all day making it an effortless journey. Feeling the wind at my back as he described his experience with joyful exuberance.
We shared a bottle of Tinto. Red wine. I had salad and calamari, ending with vanilla crème. Very nice.
He has been cycling for 4 days. It amazes me how many miles he has done in those days. He will leave early. Tomorrow he plans to get all the way from Fraga to Manresa. I will wake when I awake. A day for writing and planning.
I will attempt the stage from Fraga to Lleida. The guidebook says 33km. I am already on the way since I walked to Hostal Oasis. Google says 20km from Iasis if I follow the highway. There are a couple of small towns on the way if I must stop. I plan to arrive in Lleida in the afternoon concluding about a five or six hour walk. I have the choice of walking near the highway or following Rio Segre where the swans and storks come to greet Pilgrims. I am carrying bread for a reciprocal greeting.
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