It may be worth mentioning at this point some of the characters we have met along the way. Having now trudged nearly 400 km, statistically one is bound to come across the odd one or two folk with a screw loose. Having said that it has occurred to me and others that the very nature of deciding to walk 790km, one must be missing a marble or two in the first place.
Our first encounter with a fellow pilgrim who had a touch of the sun was as we were sitting resting our weary feet at a little village called Granon. This curiously happy Frenchman comes bounding out of nowhere asking us if we know where the Albergue is in the village. We used our best French and told him it was run by the local church and was located nearby. He laughed heartily and said he knew but that he considered the mattresses too thin so was looking for the other Albergue in the village. We didn't know but suggested he ask back down in the centre.
After few minutes of chatting it turns out he had already walked over 1000 km! Each time he expounded a sentence in speedy french he would laugh in a way that reminded us of Dr Frankenstein raising his monster for the first time! Not a sinister laugh, but the laugh went on for much longer than was normal, and way beyond comfortable. He trotted off and returned a few minutes later having found the second hostel, which was still not to his liking and announced to us as he literally sped away at a run that he would find another in the next village - some 5/6 miles away. This last cheery goodbye was once again accompanied with a hearty laugh that continued on as he disappeared into the distance.
Our second strange encounter was as we were coming into Carrion de los Condes where about a mile outside of town a man in his fifties was catching us up. We let him pass, but instead of overtaking us, he began jabberring away in a curious way in what we assumed was Spanish. It turned out that he was both deaf and partially dumb. This in itself made it a bizarre conversation. As much of his communication was justiculation coupled with the occasional Spanish word thrown in. He was not slowed down in the slightest by our inability to speak or indeed understand Spanish. We persevered as he had decided to latch onto to us.
Assuming we understood him correctly he used to work on a farm milking cows until his back hurt. Unfortunately he smoked a lot while doing this and one day set light to a barn when he threw away his fag end thoughtlessly into some hay. His attempts at stamping out the fire came to no avail! He is now retired and watches football and drinks a lot, and by the way would we like a room for the night, as he doesn't think the Sisters in the convent Albergue are that great!
We thanked him for his kind offer - and he shrugged his shoulders and waved us goodbye.
TTFN
Our first encounter with a fellow pilgrim who had a touch of the sun was as we were sitting resting our weary feet at a little village called Granon. This curiously happy Frenchman comes bounding out of nowhere asking us if we know where the Albergue is in the village. We used our best French and told him it was run by the local church and was located nearby. He laughed heartily and said he knew but that he considered the mattresses too thin so was looking for the other Albergue in the village. We didn't know but suggested he ask back down in the centre.
After few minutes of chatting it turns out he had already walked over 1000 km! Each time he expounded a sentence in speedy french he would laugh in a way that reminded us of Dr Frankenstein raising his monster for the first time! Not a sinister laugh, but the laugh went on for much longer than was normal, and way beyond comfortable. He trotted off and returned a few minutes later having found the second hostel, which was still not to his liking and announced to us as he literally sped away at a run that he would find another in the next village - some 5/6 miles away. This last cheery goodbye was once again accompanied with a hearty laugh that continued on as he disappeared into the distance.
Our second strange encounter was as we were coming into Carrion de los Condes where about a mile outside of town a man in his fifties was catching us up. We let him pass, but instead of overtaking us, he began jabberring away in a curious way in what we assumed was Spanish. It turned out that he was both deaf and partially dumb. This in itself made it a bizarre conversation. As much of his communication was justiculation coupled with the occasional Spanish word thrown in. He was not slowed down in the slightest by our inability to speak or indeed understand Spanish. We persevered as he had decided to latch onto to us.
Assuming we understood him correctly he used to work on a farm milking cows until his back hurt. Unfortunately he smoked a lot while doing this and one day set light to a barn when he threw away his fag end thoughtlessly into some hay. His attempts at stamping out the fire came to no avail! He is now retired and watches football and drinks a lot, and by the way would we like a room for the night, as he doesn't think the Sisters in the convent Albergue are that great!
We thanked him for his kind offer - and he shrugged his shoulders and waved us goodbye.
TTFN
No comments:
Post a Comment