Are we there yet?

Around the halfway point in the Camino shit started to get real. Real boring. Enter the Meseta. Think flat, dry terrain that stretches for miles, I mean kilometers, and never seems to end.

Day after day we walked alongside highways, in a super-straight fashion. Thank god for podcasts to drown out the sound of cars…and our negative when-the-fuck-will-this-be-over thoughts.

We took our second rest stop in Burgos around day 15. Luckily our feet weren’t killing us, and it was more of an enjoy-the-big-city kinda stop instead of an injury stop. We rented an Airbnb for two days. In our Camino daze, we accidentally rented an Airbnb without a TV or wifi. The horror. All we wanted was to binge-watch TV and stare at endless things online. Luckily, the dated apartment had an awesome balcony…and a washer so we could properly clean our clothes. So I guess that’s cool.

While in Burgos, we cooked a lot (yeah, a break from pilgrim meals and canned asparagus with mayo) and explored the city, including a tour of the gorgeously gothic cathedral. Being a pilgrim, we got a whole 3 euro discount on admission. Suck it. I mean, thanks, God.

The cathedral was breathtaking. They sure don’t build ’em like they used to. I’m looking at YOU, America, with your boring churches.

My inner Art History nerd pushed up its taped glasses and snorted in joy at the flying buttresses and ornate nave detailing. (Insert other art-y terms here to sound super smart.)

Oh yeah, and I voted. Too bad my damn vote got Trumped. Oh, wait. I’m backdating this post to October. The election hasn’t even happened yet. Let’s pretend it went the right way. And by right, I mean left.

Over the next few days, we, you guessed it, walk to smallish Spanish towns. We typically stayed in small casas or pensions instead of the municipal albergues which were rammed with pilgrims.

I managed to find a veggie pilgrim meal in the tiniest of tiny villages, Itero de La Vega. Falafel never tasted so good, especially paired with a cheap bottle of wine.

Around day 19, we met Andy and Carrie – another Aussie couple (they’re everywhere) – and spent the next few days walking with them. It really does make the day pass by a bit faster having someone to chat with, other than each other. No offense to Craig.

We had an amazing dinner that was off the beaten path with Andy and Carrie in Villacazar de Spiga. And yet again, witnessed an awesome sunset.

It was around this point in our journey that we decided to up our pace. We had been averaging around 27-ish kilometers a day and realized that we got into towns super early and then just sat around. So, we switched it up. We started doing no less than 32 kilometers a day and loved it. In the afternoons we pretty much had the path to ourselves.

Our first long day had a bit of a hiccup. Like always, we emailed an albergue ahead-of-time to reserve a double room. They said yes. And I even confirmed the night before. But as we were walking into Moratinos (population 78 people) after a 36 kilometer day, I get an email from the owner saying our room was only reserved until 3 pm…it was now 4 pm. Neat.

Slightly, ok, really annoyed, we hustled through the tiny village to San Bruno Albergue and said “we are here! don’t give up our room!”

Too late. Our room was gone, to an old Italian couple. But, they did have room in the bunks. Fine. Luckily, we had a bed and that the bunk room only had 4 other people in it. And at the end of the day, we got to soak our feet and enjoy the beautiful backyard.

That long day really helped prepare us for our longest walk of the Camino, almost 40 kilometers into Leòn. Why did we do this to ourselves? Well, the main reason was so we could catch up with our friends Helen and Warren. We had gotten off track from them because of our rest days and we missed drinking with them.

We woke up bright/dark and early and started walking around 6 am. Thank god for headlamps. Overall, the long walk wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. There was WAY less concrete than walking into Burgos and by 3 pm we were in the bustling, proper city of Leòn. We stayed two nights in a hostel right near the city center. It was also right near a bar that had the best mojitos I’ve ever had…not to mention they were the size of our heads.

We had dinner with Helen and Warren (and some of their new friends). It was lovely catching up with them.

The next day was our official rest day. So we slept in, walked a few feet to see the cathedral and then took the super cheesy touristico train. I loved ever second of it.

Our stay in Leòn was the first time we ever really had an issue with a local. While having lunch, a grumpy woman next to us mumbled for us to be quiet and have respect for the new country we were in. Um, ok. I know I can be quite loud. I blame my dad, Bill. But, we weren’t being loud and have you heard a Spanish person while out with friends? So I found it real odd that this woman called us out, as there was a really loud wine festival happening right across the street. Eye roll. Go home lady, you’re drunk.

Our last week seemed to fly by. We were left supportive notes along the trail from Helen and Warren.

We finally caught up to them.

We celebrated our 3-year wedding anniversary and splurged by staying in an actual nice hotel…with a kickass tub.

We started seeing more trees.

We got off the flat and climbed…then climbed some more.

We had the best pilgrim meal of our Camino in an adorably cute village of Samos.

I experienced my most challenging walk of the Camino only 3 days out from finish. Thankfully, my wonderful husband took some of the weight from my pack and carried it so my knee would feel better.

And then you know what? After 32 days, we reached Santiago.

To be honest, it felt a bit anti-climatic. I felt there should really be a band there as you walk under an archway of shelled balloons as they hand you a glass of bubbly and say “BUEN CAMINO!” But they didn’t. You walk into town and you’re done. The fact that you just walked across Northern Spain doesn’t hit you for a few days. The fact that you are a badass comes later over a glass of wine.

We decided to reward ourselves with a fancy hotel for two nights, because fuck it, we deserved it.

After checking in, we went to pick up the remainder of our stuff that we had shipped from Paris over a month ago. It felt like Christmas. So. Much. Stuff.

Our first day in Santiago, we didn’t do much. Most went to get their Compostela, aka certificate of completion, but we were told the line was hours long. So we skipped that and saved it for first thing the next morning. Besides, we needed to have a celebratory sangria.

The next morning, the line was long-ish. But in the end, it only took 40 minutes to show them our credentials and be granted our Compostela.

It’s real. I actually have proof now. And yes, this is totally going on my wall, I don’t care if it’s tacky as fuck. #NotSoHumbleBrag

After Santiago, we zipped over to Barcelona for a few nights, where it proceeded to rain most of the time. Instead of doing a full blog post (that would just be Gaudi) about Barcelona, here are a few token pictures.

Our next adventure in roam mode? A place filled with corinthian columns, fried cheese, and crazy-powerful goddesses. We’re taking the OPA-tunity to head to Greece.