June 8th, Day 11, 7am. From Santo Domingo to Tosantos, about 28 km,  and it would get to the mid 70s, might be a bit hot for walking.
I decided not to follow the typical Stages mentioned in the guidebook today, by adding an additional town on top of the conventional stage, an extra 5 km. I warmed up the leftovers from last night, quickly ate it, and started to walk.

What copycats we were! At least we began the day light-hearted.

I got to the first village before I knew it. Time for breakfast, yeah! Some coffee would be nice. I met a few Camino friends here as I approached the cafe. The Tennessee young couple, Js and Jp were heading that way as well. Js had blisters on one of her feet, and she limped and was in pain for days. A few days ago, I put some lamb’s wool on her problem area to ease off the pain during walk. Soon after she recovered, something happened to Jp’s heels, with all kinds of pain and discomfort, which made every step of his walk unbearable. I offered him ointments and healing patches I brought along, hoping for some magical healing. 
Some orange juice, coffee and pastry later, it was time to hit the road again. There was the Italian young fellow, K, again I met two days before! The day I met him limping along the Way, and saying how hurt it had been, he mentioned casually how heavy his backpack was, and how he had already tossed away two kilos or so stuff needed for his Italian cooking… When I saw him again this morning, as he stretched his limbs, he informed me with delight that his ankles felt so much better, and that he only covered 12 km distance two days before, but then walked another 32 km the following day. I could see his sense of accomplishment and pride on his face. How happy I was for him! I was thinking of the tent, the air mattress, the sleeping bag, etc. he had been carrying. How I wished that his dreams would come true – camping out in the wild, along the Way, gazing at the stars, looking at the Milky Way, and, perhaps, lying down under the grapevines to sip some local wine?! 

The field stretched far beyond the eyes, the Way extended for hundreds of miles, and those stories along the path showed the human side of us all … 

Belorado stands out to be a town full of arts and rich stories. Mural after mural here fascinated me. I, again, had trouble moving on!  

A mural with metaphor: What impressed me the most was this mural – under the Milky Way – the Pilgrimage. Among all the murals in town, I stood in front of this one the longest – isn’t this an unforgettable mural, portraying my experiences then and there?! My feet seemed to be glued in front of the wall, wondering, in the universe, under the Milky Way, which speckle of (insignificant earthly) dust resembled me the most…  

Is this an interpretation of folk art, or is this a re-creation from a book?  Who is the artist? Did the creator(s) of this mural walk this Camino?

I canceled my reservation for tonight’s bed in an albergue. I was supposed to do it at least 24 hours ahead of time, but I wanted to try it anyway. I figured that I could manage the distance for at least another town. Then I would simply show up at an albergue to try my luck. The Korean young man, S, passed me by, limping a bit, and casually told me that he would walk through another town, in spite of his injured ankle. “I would like to finish my walk before I head back to South Korea for a new job,” he added. “Nice,” I responded, tried to keep up with his fast pace, “When you get to the albergue, could you ask if they have a bed for one more person? And if they do, do you mind texting me, or calling me?” I asked him. “Sure,” he said, smiled, and sped along. Gosh, his long legs could cover so much more in one step than mine! That explains why  people called me “Shortie” in my childhood!

This family of four were walking the Camino with a young child. Salute to the inventors of strollers! Salute to this family who were willing to venture on the journey with the young. Imagine how their experiences and perspective in life would be afterwards!  

This butterfly stopped and posed for me for several minutes at a time. Did it actually know that I would be so into photographing it that I would spend long moments at a stretch just to stare at it (and its kind) and photograph it this way and that? I laughed at my naivety and my silliness. This self-imposed sentiment was ridiculous and totally holding me back with the walk pace! I must stop it!!!

Again, I was behind schedule！I should have arrived already!!

Tosantos, the town my ambition wanted me to be in for tonight. It was not easy to find the albergue that the young man S told me via text. I called him a few times, heard no response. Google Maps was useless without cell signals. There were less than ten buildings in town, how lost could I possibly be? I spotted a cute dog, walked around a bit, and finally found the place. Gosh, the sign of the albergue was so small that I totally missed it, twice, when I walked by. So it WAS the place I stopped by the first time! – an elderly gentleman sat by the front door petting a cat on his lap. Should I have asked him? S later apologized, saying that he was washing his clothes, phone left with his backpack. No hot water here, he warned me.

This was one of those places people online were talking about. It’s operated by a church, and the fees for the night was based on donations/donativo. No reservation could be made to ensure a place here – first come first served only. This would be my first experiences in such a place. Everyone would help prepare our dinner, and our communal dinner would be served at 8pm.  

I was starving. Let’s get a serving or two of potato pancake (tortitas de patata), and a beer. 

The characteristics of such albergues provided by the church – no reservations can be made, the services are provided based on the donations from the fellow pilgrims (the night before). Everyone would prepare dinner together and share the communal dinner, preceded and followed by hymns and some personal stories.  

Dinner tonight: Bread soup, Pasta with canned tuna, and apples (from the backyard)  

After dinner, we were invited to a quiet spiritual room upstairs to sit in a circle to read a story written by previous pilgrims in different languages. Some of us were given a story originally written in our mother tongues, if available. Some of the papers we received were wrinkled a bit. How many hands have these stories been through? How many hearts have those stories touched?

One pilgrim’s story –

This was the third time this gentleman walked on the Camino. This former scout troop leader stepped on the Camino several years ago. Yet, before he was about to get onto the Camino, he had to do a surgery. Soon after that, when he insisted that he still wanted to walk the Camino in spite of the survey, his son, a fresh high school graduate, offered to accompany him along the Way and to take care of him. He retold the story with a broad smile, “hehehe, I tricked him into the Camino, my surgery an excuse.” It turned out that they had learned a great deal and had loads of fun from that experience. His son later said that, in the future, he would take his own children onto the Way!

For this Camino experience, though, the father brought his daughter to walk the Camino. It happened to be her summer break. “What great timing this is,” he shared, “because, when she gets older, while she works, and when she has a family of her own, I would never be able to have such alone time, and to bond with my daughter.” How I admired them, and marveled at the father-daughter team at the sight of them on the Way, in an albergue, in the stores, etc.!

We sang a Camino song together. The song was originally written in French, a Spanish version is now available as well.

I stayed upstairs on the third floor in the church – the set-up was ultra simple. Each bed was a mattress on the wooden floor, with about 12 mattresses on the floor in the room.
As I lay down on my mattress, surrounded by snorers, my mind began to wonder –
Walking under the Milky Way,
Sleeping in the shelter of spirits…  

A simple room with 12 mattresses, co-ed. How should I not hear the snoring, oh dear God! I quietly texted my new friend who tossed and turned not far from me, and asked her if she needed ear-plugs. “No,” she responded. She already had those on, but couldn't filter out enough to bring herself to deep sleep. I brought quite a few foam earplugs, shared some along the Way, and rescued some desperate sleep-deprived. I couldn’t fall asleep, either. I sat up, and continued with my crazy thoughts. I quietly laughed at myself and at those thoughts, and laughed so hard that I leaned forward and backward. I must look like an idiot in the darkness, an ill-mannered stranger in a new land!
Here we go again –
Thundering snores sounding, 
Echoing each other in rhythm. 
Chugging along all weathered, 
In the dreamland I wandered. 
Who cares if your ears are muffled, 
Snoring and echoing as I chuckled. 
The Way sees you and me, 
In the snoring land we shall see？

Today’s actual walking distance: 31 km. I must give my amazing feet tons of credit for a job so well done!  

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