Part of it was our own fault. We got a slow start out of the hostel. We dawdled along the way - stopping to pat calves at sunrise, posing with a concrete pilgrim statue, teeter tottering at a playground, and climbing an artistic tower under a full moon. We had lots of fun and made very little progress in the first three hours.
After a quick breakfast only 10 km into our day, we dawdled some more to take pictures of baby kittens, enjoy the Roman ruins in the city of Astorga, empty the supermarket of tasty treats, and gawk at the cathedral. By noon we had covered 13 km. It was not looking like a very fun afternoon with 22 more km to cover.
We put our heads down just as the wind kicked up - a steady, hot gust that blew desert dust into every nook and cranny of our bodies. The sun beat down, and we cursed the Camino as we clicked off kilometers. Our goal was to make it to Rabinal del Camino before dinner. We stopped in one church on our way out of Astorga for a stamp for our pilgrim passports. Brianna went in first, and when the kind lady inside found out that she wasn't Catholic, she gave her a rosary. I went in next and received no such gift. While I was moping about my lack of souvenir a little bit later, Brianna said, "She took one look at you and knew you were in WAY too deep to bother." It's always nice to get a resounding endorsement from your own offspring (particularly when they are probably speaking the truth). Whatever.
The afternoon was long, hot and difficult - a mental and physical test. After two hours, we stopped for drinks, and then we began breaking it down into 30 minute increments - stopping every half hour for a rest, drink, snack break. Somehow, we finally made it to Rabanal, but it was not before Foster began talking to a pine cone and Brianna started singing suicidal tunes. I uttered many sentiments into the wind, but I had nothing to lose (apparently I have already been deemed a heathen).
We found a sweet hostel run by the order of St. James in England, which is operated by volunteers with cute British accents who serve a "proper" tea at 4:00 (which we missed). They did invite us to cut herbs from the garden in the event that we would be cooking dinner (over my dead body). However, the one accessory which we did take full advantage of was the laundry spinner. I don't believe I have had a a happier moment on the Camino than the moment when I stepped out of the shower to see Foster and Nolan busy in the courtyard below hand-washing their laundry (and Nolan providing lessons to anyone who was interested on how to correctly operate the clothes spinner). It sincerely warmed my hardened little heathen heart.
After showers and laundry were behind us, we hobbled across the street to enjoy the "pilgrim menu" for dinner. I gave thanks for hostels that operate on a "donation" system, which allow us to splurge on dinner after an exhausting day. Free of the Internet and connected to each other by one hellacious afternoon, we reminisced about what a long day it had been. And, as we scrolled through the photos to the beginning of the day and Brianna cooed over the adorable calf she was petting at sunrise, her veal arrived. We all snickered a little at the irony. Brianna shed a tear or two of guilt before dissolving into a gush of deliciousness and eventually settling on the routine of patting the veal with her tongue before she ate each bite to acknowledge the cuteness of the calf that gave his/her life for her dinner. Just another day on the Camino with some crazy kids.
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