Day 5---coffee and bread

I started in Puente de la Reina. Or something like that. Now I don´t even know where I am. Lorca? Lorton Prison? It´s on a hill. I can tell you that for sure I´ve stopped here for lunch. Mmmmm. Chorizo. My first vegetarian chorizo in Spain. ("I´ve stopped here." I´m already beginning to sound like the damn Brits. Next thing you know I´ll be knackered.)

Today´s been excellent so far. About an hour into the walk, I went through a small town, and a bunch of pilgrims were gathered around a table in a courtyard. A Spanish family had a coffee table set up with some doughnuts. They were celebrating a first communion today by serving breakfast to pilgrims. The identity of these towns is so bound up with the Camino. It´s fascinating. As I pass through the little towns, people bid ¨Buen Camino.¨ Anyhow, the family giving away coffee was excellent--loud and laughing. It set a good tone for the day. Most of the people I´ve met have been excellent good gente but there just arent enough loudandlaughing ones. I´m partial to that particular sort. (Not sure why that could be. Any suggestions on that?)

Walking along a bit later, a thunderstorm appeared on the horizon. Pilgrims went through the routine of grabbing the ponchos and and the pack covers and the raincoats and whatnot (shout out to Mi-Suk for pointing out that my superduper bags mean I don´t have to deal with that). A couple of French pilgrims happened by. I had a naked baguette sticking up out of my pack, and they kept pointing to the the bread and pointing to the sky and saying in horror "Le pan!" Once the skies opened up and we had arrived in the town, I stood in the rain as the others huddled under cover. More pointing and exclaiming. Finally, inspired by the generosity of the Spanishloudandlaughing coffee folks, I pulled the baguette out of my pocket and started tearing off pieces of bread and placing it in the hands of the line of dripping pilgrims, offering a sort of communion to each of them. No transubstantiation, but I was pleased that they partook. I didn´t eat any. It tasted a whole lot better to give it to them.

Admittedly, I was really friggin hungry two hours later, but I managed to suck down the Nutella without the bread though. We all make sacrifices as we march on toward´s Jimmy´s bones.

It´s only 1. I have kilometers to go before I sleep (with retired German men).

(I love the anonymous comments on this blog. They seem to melt into one huge sarcastic voice. It tells me a thing or two about my friends . . . )