My expensive pension didn’t perform to expectations. A noisy French bunch continued to chatter into the night, their voices reverberating off the walls. I was unable to sleep for what seemed like ages, so I consequently slept in to catch up. That meant an unfashionably late 0700 departure, and 1320 arrival ~27km later, at another dot on the map called Terradillos de Templarios. Once again, our routing paralleled the highway. Hard to get lost, hard to get interested.
The most interesting factoid I could dig up was that the 12-13km part of this route between Villotilla and Calzadilla is actually an old Roman road, the Via Traiana. The Via Traiana connected Astoria to Bordeaux, was built by Julius Caesar and as it is on what is effectively marshland, all the stone and rock for the foundation had to be brought in (from where I don’t know).
The high point of the day was meeting Una and breakfast at the Cafe Movil. Una is a 6 year old, brindle Boxer bitch. I asked the owners if she was friendly and if I could say hi/play and after that affirmative courtesy/safety check, I wrestled with her as only Boxer-people know. The Italians and the Australians who had been enjoying breakfast were aghast. WTF is that shiney-domed-doofus doing? Una was making scary, growling noises, doing downwards dog with a coiled spring as she launched herself at me in attempts to body check me, and jaws snapping away with bared teeth like a thresher on four legs – but her stump was wagging away throughout, and she was just having Boxer-fun. They thought I’d got sunstroke and gone doolally. Nothing of the sort. You just know, and so do the Boxers.
I’m going to try and finish “Le Freak” today. It’s Nile Rodgers’ book about Nile Rodgers. A great read, I have to say. I may try and get round to a more fulsome review for those that care about black, drug-addled, Black Panther, disco, Thespian matters. I devoured a big chunk of it yesterday, to the point that I depleted my iPad down to 3% battery. Did you know that Claude Nobs is creator of the Montreaux Jazz Festival? Me neither. I thought it was a bad joke name like Claude Balls, Mike Hunt, Seymour Coochy, Anya Bakyabich or Harry Peratesteze, but apparently not. Learned that yesterday. Nile rocks.
So, in my €10 dormitory digs tonight, hoping for better luck on the sleep front as there is a generally-respected ‘lights out’ at 2200 protocol. Dinner served at 1800. I’ll be first in line; Bosch, get out of the way. Towels to reserve your spot will do you no good!
I walked around in the obscene heat, doing my local due diligence…for you, my limited readership. Nothing. Nada. This is another town with a large church, a road running through it and little else to commend or differentiate it from the rest. Noted some interesting construction techniques that I’m not familiar with though, such as using clay, dung (?) and straw as scree for the outside of the building. Pictures don’t lie. See for yourself.
Another couple of days to Léon, and it gets interesting again. I hope. Sahagun is en route tomorrow. It is a feeder city for the Camino de Madrid….meaning Pilgrim volumes likely to rise. More pikers, more competition for beds. Ugh! There used to be exclusivity in being an itinerant. No longer, it seems.
It’s hotter than Satan’s toe-nails, even in the shade. Weather is here, wish you were beautiful. But you’re not.