Granon to Tosantos
After leaving the monastery, Leo and I found ourselves walking on a cold and breezy morning. The sun was out, but it did little to warm us. However, the dirt path stretched away over gently rolling hills, and we walked several miles looking for a cup of coffee and something more substantial than the toast we had eaten in Granon. We diverted from the path to cross a highway, and enjoyed churros and chocolate at the Spanish equivalent of a Truck Stop. Back to the path again, which now paralleled the highway for several miles. As we neared Belorado around lunch time, the day had warmed itself significantly. We wanted to stop for lunch, plus Belorado was the last town for several days that had an ATM.
There was a sign for an ancient Jewish quarter in the village, and I wanted to check it out, so we detoured. We didn’t find the Jewish quarter, but we did find a lovely modern plaza with restaurants, stores and banks. We also found the Family Fearn, Susanne and Heidi all relaxing in the warm sunlight. Leo and I had a lunch of bocadillos and beer. If I recall, this is the first time our sandwich had bacon and was served warm. The pilgrims drifted away, and eventually we began to walk again. There were still six kilometers to go for the day.
Tosantos is another village in Spain with a few buildings and no residents to be seen. The guidebook states 20 people live there, but we did not see signs of anyone. The Albergue is in an old hopsital. The sleeping arrangements are again on mats in the attic. This place is watched by a kind and beloved man named Luis. He was not there when we arrived, just a group of young Spanish hospiteleros who welcomed us eagerly and kindly. In the cliffs above the town is a hermitage church carved into the stone, and while the guidebook says it is always locked, a night spent in Tostanos includes a guided tour! We were to meet in the courtyard at 5:00, visit the hermitage, then come back and prepare dinner with the communal meal served at 7:00.
As there was a line for the showers, I went to the attic and laid out my mat to take a nap. I had no sooner closed my eyes, then I was surrounded by four German men, talking loudly and organizing their spaces for the night. Nap ruined, I went outside to find the Fearn children having a great time with the dog of the house. Of course Susanne and Heidi were there, too. Today I would also meet Patrick, the movie star from Australia, and Francesca, a young girl from Italy.
At 5:00 we all went to the hermitage. Super cool but no photos were allowed. We felt very special to be given access to this gem in the cliffs. And then we came down the hill to prepare dinner. Just moments before dinner was to be served, in walk Stonerboy and his girlfriend. Suddenly dinner is postponed, and all the young volunteers disappear. Obviously the weed brigade had arrived. I really don’t care if people smoke, but I was irritated that all the hungry pilgrims were now put on hold.
At 8:00, we finally sat down to a delicious dinner. The only problem, all the wine was at one end of the table the OTHER end of the table…with all the stoners. For everyone at my end, we were given one small gourd with enough wine for each of us to have a sip or two, as long as several others completely passed. One of the German men was ticked off! He kept pounding the table and yelling, “More Wine!” but he gave up when he realized the volunteers were completely oblivious.
Dinner was delicious. I was mesmerized by the movie star who sat across from me. Also there was a young girl from the Netherlands who had an amazing story of her previous Camino. She had been hit by a car and her head split open just days from Santiago. She had returned after healing to complete her journey.
As dinner came to a close, a group of Italian men began to sing. Of course they were from the end of the table with the wine, so I figured they had too much. But when they were done, the Spanish began to sing. And then the Australians. I realized the idea was moving its way around the table, and each nationality would sing a song to represent their country. And then I had the horrible realization Leo and I were the only two Americans at the table. I had no idea what song!
Luckily, Heidi from Switzerland was next. As I was later told, Heidi was a professional yodeler. She had traveled the world with her talent. Not the “yodel’lay ee who” that we think of in the States, but a beautiful slow song. I just could not believe that beauty came from that small woman. When she was done, the room exploded in excitement. Of course nobody could follow that performance, and I was spared singing.
At the conclusion of dinner, Stonerboy Fran announced he was going to set up another service in yet another private chapel. He also said anyone not attending should volunteer to do the dishes. Hmmmm. I did not want to be responsible for the dishes again, and I also did not want to go to another hippie service. Since dinner was already an hour late, I claimed exhaustion and went to my mat. I could hear the singing and prayers, as I drifted off to sleep.
Except when the service was over, the four German men came into the room, talking as loudly as ever. Leo laid down on his mat and told me the service was really special. Fran was not in charge, it was the beloved host Luis who led the evening prayer and discussion. I fell asleep a little angry with myself for being so judgmental over a little weed, and disappointed I had missed this opportunity.
The morning would bring a new day, another walk, and more adventures, emotions, opportunities and pilgrims. Day 11 was now past.
After leaving the monastery, Leo and I found ourselves walking on a cold and breezy morning. The sun was out, but it did little to warm us. However, the dirt path stretched away over gently rolling hills, and we walked several miles looking for a cup of coffee and something more substantial than the toast we had eaten in Granon. We diverted from the path to cross a highway, and enjoyed churros and chocolate at the Spanish equivalent of a Truck Stop. Back to the path again, which now paralleled the highway for several miles. As we neared Belorado around lunch time, the day had warmed itself significantly. We wanted to stop for lunch, plus Belorado was the last town for several days that had an ATM.
There was a sign for an ancient Jewish quarter in the village, and I wanted to check it out, so we detoured. We didn’t find the Jewish quarter, but we did find a lovely modern plaza with restaurants, stores and banks. We also found the Family Fearn, Susanne and Heidi all relaxing in the warm sunlight. Leo and I had a lunch of bocadillos and beer. If I recall, this is the first time our sandwich had bacon and was served warm. The pilgrims drifted away, and eventually we began to walk again. There were still six kilometers to go for the day.
Tosantos is another village in Spain with a few buildings and no residents to be seen. The guidebook states 20 people live there, but we did not see signs of anyone. The Albergue is in an old hopsital. The sleeping arrangements are again on mats in the attic. This place is watched by a kind and beloved man named Luis. He was not there when we arrived, just a group of young Spanish hospiteleros who welcomed us eagerly and kindly. In the cliffs above the town is a hermitage church carved into the stone, and while the guidebook says it is always locked, a night spent in Tostanos includes a guided tour! We were to meet in the courtyard at 5:00, visit the hermitage, then come back and prepare dinner with the communal meal served at 7:00.
As there was a line for the showers, I went to the attic and laid out my mat to take a nap. I had no sooner closed my eyes, then I was surrounded by four German men, talking loudly and organizing their spaces for the night. Nap ruined, I went outside to find the Fearn children having a great time with the dog of the house. Of course Susanne and Heidi were there, too. Today I would also meet Patrick, the movie star from Australia, and Francesca, a young girl from Italy.
At 5:00 we all went to the hermitage. Super cool but no photos were allowed. We felt very special to be given access to this gem in the cliffs. And then we came down the hill to prepare dinner. Just moments before dinner was to be served, in walk Stonerboy and his girlfriend. Suddenly dinner is postponed, and all the young volunteers disappear. Obviously the weed brigade had arrived. I really don’t care if people smoke, but I was irritated that all the hungry pilgrims were now put on hold.
At 8:00, we finally sat down to a delicious dinner. The only problem, all the wine was at one end of the table the OTHER end of the table…with all the stoners. For everyone at my end, we were given one small gourd with enough wine for each of us to have a sip or two, as long as several others completely passed. One of the German men was ticked off! He kept pounding the table and yelling, “More Wine!” but he gave up when he realized the volunteers were completely oblivious.
Dinner was delicious. I was mesmerized by the movie star who sat across from me. Also there was a young girl from the Netherlands who had an amazing story of her previous Camino. She had been hit by a car and her head split open just days from Santiago. She had returned after healing to complete her journey.
As dinner came to a close, a group of Italian men began to sing. Of course they were from the end of the table with the wine, so I figured they had too much. But when they were done, the Spanish began to sing. And then the Australians. I realized the idea was moving its way around the table, and each nationality would sing a song to represent their country. And then I had the horrible realization Leo and I were the only two Americans at the table. I had no idea what song!
Luckily, Heidi from Switzerland was next. As I was later told, Heidi was a professional yodeler. She had traveled the world with her talent. Not the “yodel’lay ee who” that we think of in the States, but a beautiful slow song. I just could not believe that beauty came from that small woman. When she was done, the room exploded in excitement. Of course nobody could follow that performance, and I was spared singing.
At the conclusion of dinner, Stonerboy Fran announced he was going to set up another service in yet another private chapel. He also said anyone not attending should volunteer to do the dishes. Hmmmm. I did not want to be responsible for the dishes again, and I also did not want to go to another hippie service. Since dinner was already an hour late, I claimed exhaustion and went to my mat. I could hear the singing and prayers, as I drifted off to sleep.
Except when the service was over, the four German men came into the room, talking as loudly as ever. Leo laid down on his mat and told me the service was really special. Fran was not in charge, it was the beloved host Luis who led the evening prayer and discussion. I fell asleep a little angry with myself for being so judgmental over a little weed, and disappointed I had missed this opportunity.
The morning would bring a new day, another walk, and more adventures, emotions, opportunities and pilgrims. Day 11 was now past.
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