After leaving the fair city of Leon behind me – the cathedral, the churches, all the stunning architecture – I continued my journey westward. It was a lovely stop. I had only walked a few kilometers into town and several more wandering about on my quest to get lost in a big city.
After reuniting with folks from along the trail and sharing the necessary adult beverages and commiserations of our madness, I bid farewell to the city of lions. God willing, I’ll be back soon enough.
For four days now, I’ve been tramping about the Camino Frances on my way to Santiago. You’ve already read – theoretically – about the desolation of Camino Madrid and the stark contrast to Frances in terms of amenities and pilgrims. I needn’t bore you with such details any further.
What I shall bore you with, howe’er, is about the day to day shenanigans I find myself getting in to as I slowly close in upon my goal of visiting the holy city and the splendid coast.
Do forgive the lack of photos as the internet at the albergue municipal is far from fast. It’s reminiscent of the dial-up I grew up with (kids, ask your parents).
Look there, that errant cigarette cocked so precariously to the wrong side. That messy mop of long blond locks lost unto themselves. How can that bedraggled devil wandering the dusty streets of Spain truly be the fellow you submit your essays to? And wine? Nonsense – I’m a red-blooded Swiss. I’ll have me a mighty fine beer any day.
Though I won’t say no to a nice Malbec. Or Chianti. Or any wine, really.
Fuck, I love wine.
For all my students who have a predisposition to Google my illustrious name, do be mindful that some huckster is masquerading as your eccentric English teacher. See the difference between the two photos? Come now; how could anyone be fooled in to thinking one handsome devil is portraying the other?
Alleged narcissism aside, let us focus upon the meat and potatoes of this sojourn into madness.
After many hijinks, detours, and just general tomfoolery, I finally made it to Leon. I can’t tell you how many times I had plans for coming to this city only for them to be dashed in pursuit of a better thread. Not mad by any means for the Way has been quite the experience. But here I am – the big city of Leon.
As I walked through the plaza towards my preferred stop for the day, I heard it again. That increasingly popular call I cannot seem to shake no matter which direction I go on this trail. “Bruno!”
Yep, one of my pilgrims from El Burgo has been volunteering as a hospitalera for several days. The Way – nothing is linear out here I tell you. And would you believe it: she was volunteering at the Benedictine Monastery, the exact lodgings I was looking for! That’s Providence for you: I wanted to stay at this joint, had trouble finding it, so the All-Father took pity upon me and sent me a guide and a friend.
But why the Benedictine Monastery? My reasons are twofold: religious joints are usually a more charming and enlightening stay than a private albergue can offer, and I wanted a credencial for the Camino San Salvador.
Oh Christ, you may be thinking, what silly idea have you got in that warped head of yours now?
San Salvador? Yeah, I know, it’s a silly name: Saint Savior. Hey, I didn’t choose it.
Oh, right, what is San Salvador? Well, dear reader, sit right on down and lemme ‘splain it to ya.