First Tapas and Getting Tucked In

Once back in the hostel, the first thing I want is a Coke, so I head to the vending machine and get one--cold and delicious. My companions are sitting in the lounge, so I join them on the couch and we discuss what to do next. I definitely want my shower, then to wash my clothes, and Ingeborg wants to see if there is a grocery store around, and I agree. Rita is pretty tired from the walk, so opts to rest before dinner. We all go back to the bunks, and start our rustling, unpacking, and re-arranging. The shower is wonderful, and then I'm off to the sink to wash clothes. I get done early enough to hang my wet clothes up in the sun, so there is an actual chance that they might be dry by the morning. WhileI am going about these chores, I notice that everyone in the place is being very quiet, there is no rowdiness or loud talk. I think that the spirit of this place has rubbed off on all of us. It's quite interesting to watch. Soon, Ingeborg and I head out of the doorway and into the town. As we leave the hostel/church, we notice that we walk almost immediately onto a plaza-like area without car traffic. It's paved with bricks, and there are kids riding bikes, moms with strollers, grandmothers walking arm in arm. It's shady in between the buildings, but it feels good after the hot walk. We try to find where our host told us we could find our menu for the night, but I think I muddled the directions, and am not too clear. But we will try again later. First, we want an ATM and a grocery store. Pretty soon, the plaza ends and we come to a rather busy street with traffic lights. We cross over, and I see what looks like an office building, so I go in and ask a young man if there is an alimentacion nearby. Yes, he says, getting up, just around the corner, and he goes out with us to show us that if we had only walked another 15 or so feet it would have been staring us in the face! We thank him and cross over to go into the SuperMercado. Now, a SuperMercado in Spain is really not like what we in America think of a "supermarket". They are maybe a third of the size of a "regular" Safeway in the U.S., with a fairly small variety of items. This one did have a deli/butcher shop, and I'm tempted to try some sausage or chorizo, but I decide I'd probably better stick to things in cans. One thing I do need, however, is some small silverware. I find a tiny spoon such as they serve with the coffee, and a little fork, so I'm set there. I also find some small bags of almonds, and some interesting looking tunasalad with what looks like peas and carrots in it, and also some more chocolate. We have to have the necessities, you know! Plus a couple of small tomatoes and some lemon yogurt. Lemon yogurt becomes my staple on this walk, it's cool, it's sweet enough to satisfy that craving, it's fresh tasting and it's good for my stomach, what more could you want?

With our purchases in hands, we then locate an ATM for some cash, and are ready to head back. Both Ingeborg and I are curious about tapas, so we start looking for a cafe. As we stroll along the plaza, I see a place called "Cafe Paradiso". Now, how can we pass this up. I order a coffee while she sits with the packages. I also notice all kinds of yummy-looking items under the glass counter, and I ask about a small bocadillo (sandwich) with a chile pepper. I ask if the pepper is very hot, and they assure me no. I actually wanted it to be hot, but I opt for that one anyway, and ask if it's ok to take that and the coffee outside. Yes, it is, so I head out to Ingeborg, and take my turn with the packages. The sandwich is really good, the salty Serrano ham and chile mixing perfectly. She comes back with another kind of tapas--a thick slice of zucinni, battered and fried, with cheese and another kind of ham on it. It looks so good, I have to go have one. Really, eating tapas is about the cheapest way to enjoy a variety of food in Spain. The coffee and the 2 tapas cost me about 5 euros--maybe $7.00! While we are eating and enjoying our coffee, Rita comes up, feeling better after her nap. She sits with us as we finish, and then we go off in search of actual dinner. I had been looking around while we were sitting, and think I know where we are supposed to go. There is a large, open plaza off to the right of us, and at the other side is a building with some trees in front. The monk had mentioned going through trees, so I walk in and ask the lady at the bar about the menu. She seems frazzled and distracted, but says we can come back at 7pm to eat. That's not long, so we go out and find chairs on the plaza to wait. We notice that the German/Spanish couple from the hostel and a couple of other folks from there are waiting as well. It's interesting to watch the Germans try to adapt to Spanish customs. Ingeborg seems frustrated by the lateness at which the Spanish eat dinner, and the fact that not much here seems to be on time, or have any kind of set schedule for that matter. Ordinarily, if I were here on business for example, this would bother me, too, but I have decided from the outset to simply go with the flow, and if the lady says come back at 7pm, then that's what I'll do.

We go back to the restaurant and the lady shows us to a table that has been set for 3. As people from the hostel wander in, I realize that it's possible that our host contacted the restaurant to let them know how many people were there, and in what groupings, as there is our table for 3, a table for the German/Spanish couple, and then a table for 6 for a bigger group that comes in. There only seems to be the one woman working the bar and the tables, and she is getting more frazzled by the moment. We have a bit of a scene suddenly, when an older man (Spanish) orders something and apparently speaks rudely to the woman and she refuses to serve him and tells him to leave. He begins to rant and rave at her, and she back at him. Then he apparently leaves, but shortly police show up, and have a word with the woman who returns in tears and the older man comes back in and sits down. When she comes to our table she is crying and apologizing at the same time. We tell her not to worry, all is well with us, we are not in a hurry, etc., and she manages to get all the orders at least put into the kitchen. We are still trying to figure out exactly what happened, when the young Spanish lady comes over and tells us that this place is not only for pilgrims but also the elderly and disabled, kind of like a senior center. Apparently the older man didn't like the waitresses attitude and "cussed her out" and she told HIM that if he was going to be so rude he would have to leave. Hence all the drama. Despite all this, we manage to get our food in reasonable time, to enjoy our wine, and at the end, to thank the woman and give her hugs before we leave, which brings on more tears. Well, if I'd had to take care of that many customers, plus a grumpy old man, I would have cried, too.

As we leave the restaurant, it is getting darker, and we stroll back to the church and our beds. Earlier, when we came in, our host had told us that the door was locked after 7pm, and we would have to ring in order to get in. And that after 1opm, no one was let in, so we definitely want to get back before then! We wander back, looking at the river, watching the kids play, commenting on the fact that Spanish children seem to stay out much later than either German or American kids (at least were we live). As we arrive at the door where we came in earlier that afternoon, I am surprised to see the young German/Spanish couple sitting outside the door, holding hands and kissing lightly. They smile as we come up, and explain that they were waiting for the rest of us so that our host would, hopefully, only have to open the door once. We all wait there until the whole group has gathered in front of the church, and then we ring the bell. There is a fairly long pause, then through the small grate, we see our monk coming down the stairway to let us in. When he opens the door and sees all of us there, he blinks in surprise, and then his smile lights up his face. It is as if his flock has come home all at the same time, and that is how it feels. He thanks us, and asks if we had a good meal, and we assure him we did, not including the evening's drama. We make our way back to the hostel, and then I come back for a bit of quiet meditation in the chapel. I love sitting in the chapels and churches along the Way. Even though I am not Christian, the essense of the faith of all the people who have traveled this road seeps out of the walls in every church I go into. It's as if the stone itself is some kind of filter that distills all the dogma and the disagreements of doctrine and what have you that the Christian religion is prone to, and what oozes out into the atmosphere is a pure faith and hope that lightens my soul as I sit and bask in it. I have no problem praying in these places.

Afterwards, as it comes to full dark, Ingeborg and I sit outside the doorway to the hostel on the stone balcony, and talk of philosophy and faith, of meditation and discipline, of family and connection through the Camino. It has been a very good evening. Eventually, it gets chilly and we move in to get ready for bed. As we are settling down, our host comes in, smiling his kind smile, asking after all of us, just checking to see that everyone is all right. I think he has taken a shine to all of us, and wants to tuck us in for the night, at least that's how it feels to me. After a few minutes of chatting, he leaves us, and we all get into bed and someone turns off the light. My bed is right next to a window, and I figure out how to open it an inch or two, so that the cool night air comes in over my face. Thinking of everything that happened in this short day, thinking about what's coming tomorrow, I drift off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.