Before catching the coach to Monreal, I learned yet another very important lesson of the Way – take care of your things and before moving on check well lest you have forgotten something. This lesson, like all the good lessons, is applicable in the rest of the life as well. Since I was taking a coach to Monreal, there was no need for anybody else to transport my big backpack, so I put it on my back, the small one went in front of me and thus I walked over to the bus stop where I got rather early. I put the big backpack on the ground and joined some other people in the waiting. And then I felt I was missing something. ... Hmm? – My hiking poles!!! I had simply left the hostel and forgotten to take them with me. I still had 15 minutes before the arrival of the coach and the hostel was just a couple of minutes away. I asked the people at the bus stop to watch my big backpack and as quickly as I could (and I could not walk very fast because my toes still hurt despite being freshly dressed and protected with thick layers of gauze) I returned to the albergue hoping the hostess was still there.
When I got there, I started banging on the entrance door and I also went to a side window where I called the hostess who was luckily still there and so I managed to solve the problem relatively easily.
The main reason why I worried if somebody would be at the hostel was that that day only one cyclist came and even he occasionally left the albergue. The Aragon Route, i.e., the part of the Way of St James that leads from the Somport Pass to the town of Puente la Reina where the course joins the French Route, is not very frequented by pilgrims. I don’t know why. But, this also means that it was nice that my pilgrimage coincided with a dozen of other walkers. It was certainly fun, but it was primarily important that these were all very nice people.
So, we had lovely time during dinner after I had arrived in Monreal and soon we all went to the dormitory. All the pilgrims, and this time there were lots of cyclists as well, were placed in bunk beds within a single dormitory and it was quite hot inside. I had already said to my co-pilgrims that on account of my feet I would not walk the following stage either since it was very long, 30 km, because my feet still kept hurting with each step I made. By the way, now I was tending to smaller blisters myself the way I had seen the medical nurses do it in Sangüesa. So, I went to bed and then the cough started and it simply would not calm down regardless of the medicines and whatever I was trying to do during the night. As much as I felt bad and embarrassed because the others could not sleep on my account, I also felt miserable because I myself could also not sleep almost at all that night.
When I got up the following morning, first I went to the nearby bar-restaurant which functions as a single entity with the albergue and there I inquired about the time schedule of the local buses. With the feeling I was just dragging myself, I walked a little around the place which in fact is rather nice and quite picturesque. I also went to a pharmacy and bought the medicines which I was actually familiar with and which do not create additional feeling of weakness and mild dizziness as the ones recommended by the doctor. I simply could not handle several problems at the same time during such a delicate type of journey.
Church in the small town of Monreal
Since I missed the morning bus, I had to wait not only the entire day in order to catch the next one, but I also had to go to the town of Puente la Reina via Pamplona where I had to change the bus. Pamplona is a town crossed by the French Route, but it is much more famous for the annual running of the bulls along its streets. I saw only as much of the town as was possible from the coach and I spent almost an hour at the local coach terminal. It is nothing special.
When I got to Puente la Reina, I accidently met a few people that I had hanged around with during the previous days along the Way and it was a most cordial encounter. Afterwards I left my things at a hotel and met again with my friends in order to have a dinner together.
Church of the Crucifix (Iglesia del Crucifijo) in Puente la Reina
That’s when I learned that the Way was rather poorly marked along the preceding stage. Thus it happened that Angela headed along the path that went on the “wrong” side of the mountain and when she realised it, she turned on the GPS on her mobile and with her backpack on she went over the mountain to the “right” side. Like me, Gabriel eventually had to go to the doctor’s because of his toes and when we met he was walking very slowly. I asked him what he would do and he simply said he would continue. He had to have his toes redressed in the next big place anyway. Although I felt sorry that some other of my co-pilgrims also had problems with their feet (Francesco and Rafael, too), I felt somehow relieved since I was not the only namby-pamby around.
The following day Angela, Francesco and Gabriel continued with their pilgrimage, while I remained in Puente la Reina with a hope that my cough would calm down.
This is what I had to report to my friends on this day:
Day 8: “Even the Way is just a part of our way”
Already the previous day in Sangüesa I decided to cover yet another stage by coach, from Monreal to Puente la Reina, a very important point in which the extremely popular French Route and the Aragonese Route I was covering merge. I also have the guidebook from Puente la Reina, so I thought I would feel less lost. In addition, from this town, the Way of St James leads through areas where settlements are more frequent and there are more pilgrims, which means that more frequently there would be bars where one may sit and get refreshed, while also taking less water along (important on account of the weight of the backpack).
Still, I must admit that when I first started making these plans I felt rather bad because of such decision of mine and almost like a fraud. However, since I do love myself dearly and always want to have the best possible opinion of myself, this thing with “being a fraud” somehow did not fit in all of this. As I was already on the Way, I have decided to turn into a grand philosopher, thus buffering the whole thing. So, although I’m moving on by coach, because of the realistically adverse circumstances such as my poor little toes, I’m still going along the Way and I consider that I’m doing it. After all, it is only a part of my life’s way. And so we’ve gotten to as many as two lessons in a day at the price of one:
Lesson no. 3: “Even the Way is just a part of our way”
Lesson no. 4: “One should go forward, but one also needs to know when to stop and take a break”
In addition, last night in Monreal I almost didn’t sleep a wink because of the cough that was progressively getting worse, despite Ibuprofen and some other medicine for “unproductive” cough which I was taking after the advice of the doctor. I even got a sensation that they were making me feel worse. And when I go down into a horizontal position, the situation gets unbearable.
Needless to say, everybody left at down and I got stuck again because there was a coach out of Monreal at 3 pm. While killing those hours, despite the great bar-restaurant and a very kind bar lady, the time passed very slowly. I coughed from time to time, but I also felt very weak which I ascribed to complete sleep deprivation, although I did not yawn. I even tried to take a nap in the dormitory, but as soon as I would lay down the cough would become horrible again and it all just kept exhausting me further, so I would get up again.
By the way, don’t complain if I only write about how bad I felt. You’ve asked for the reports and I don’t want to lie, so you are getting the overview of the situation such as it was in reality. For instance, here is what really made me move myself. Flies! Namely, the hostel is closed during the day (but it is not locked), first in order to prevent the heat from getting in and second in order to prevent flies from getting in. Of course, the latter do manage to get in somehow. While I was sitting inside, I could see a few flies roaming around and also landing. So, I got some old newspapers and started to hunt them down. At first I had to fine-tune the technique, the distance between the wrapped newspapers and the fly, as well as the speed of my arm. Eventually, I was great and productive (unlike my cough that kept on being unproductive)! I guess that Jains would adamantly be against it, but I belong to the Christian tradition and for us it is quite ok to hit flies with newspapers, especially if one is doing a favour for the pilgrims who would arrive later on, while also killing time.
However, I still felt rather weak and exhausted on account of that horrible dry cough and now I also felt as if I had sore throat and I certainly didn’t have enough (good quality) sleep. While sitting in the bar, all of a sudden it dawned on me. I immediately booked a hotel in Puente la Reina for two nights! To put it simply, I just cannot continue in this heavy state of being. I have planned anyway to make breaks occasionally along the way in order to get some rest and although here I have an impression I rest more than I walk, any further torture of myself is out of question. I REALLY need to stabilise! The moment I’ve done something about it, i.e., as soon as I’ve booked the hotel I felt better.
By the way, I also thought that I’d mastered my own lesson no. 4 (in case you have already forgotten it, there it is, just a few paragraphs above).
On the other hand, here is finally a good piece of news – my toes calmed down!!! I’m so pleased with this, because in the case of two toes that have not been mentioned in my stories so far I copied the technique of the medical nurse and combined it with the fine “embroidery” I had seen Francesco use, that I’ve decided to organise a training course after my return to Belgrade “How to Mend Blisters Before They Get You!” Feel free to apply!
In front of me: 705 km
Behind me: 162 km
That night I slept well, the cough started to recede and I spent the following day quietly going only for very short walks. Puente la Reina is not a large place anyway and it can easily and quickly be visited. The town’s name itself means the Bridge of the Queen and it is thus named after Queen Muniadona who had the bridge over the Arga river built in the 11th century. The bridge is in fact called Puente Románico, meaning the Romanesque Bridge.
Puente Románico
Main street with the belfry of the Church of St James
Bearing in mind my experience in Jaca where I wandered a little in the morning looking for the way out of the town, as well as Angela’s story that she did not see the arrow in some section after Monreal, I walked to the end of the main street and the Romanesque Bridge in order to get ready for the morning after.
There were signs here that clearly showed the right direction for the pilgrimage, but at the end of the bridge there was also a yellow arrow that could barely be discerned which illustrates quite well how important it is to look attentively.
Spot the yellow arrow
I spent the day mostly in my hotel room and I sent the following text to my friends:
Day 9: “Two steps forward, one step back”
There is no such thing as coincidence and everything in this Universe is interconnected. My present Way included. So much so that I can see a very clear connection between my present situation and the title of a book by the famous comrade Lenin “One Step Forward, Two Steps Back”, subtitled: “The Crisis in Our Party.” But, since this party of mine consists of one member only, serving several functions, those on the top have issued a directive that it is necessary to stop and regroup, following the principle “Two steps forward, one step beck.” To start with, last night, the entire membership slept like a log.
But, this absence of coincidence as such proved already yesterday when I arrived in Puente la Reina. My only regret related to the decision to stay at a hotel was that I would not get to see my new friends-pilgrims. Not only do they stay at albergues, but also there are three albergues here and I was not even sure whether there was any point in looking for them.
When I got out of the coach, I put the big backpack on my back, the small one in front of me, took my hiking poles into my hands and asked a passer-by where the Main Street was. He told me and I had just started when I heard some noise. I looked around and there they were – three of my dear friends were sitting in a bar on the other side of the street, waving at me and calling me out. It was with great joy, as well as unexpected lightness, that I ran to them with all the 15kg of load on me. Coincidence, ha?
After the joyous greeting, I sat down with them and it turned out that they were there to see off Rafael (a Spaniard from Zaragoza) who was to catch a coach at a nearby stop since he was returning home. For Beli (Isabel), Puente la Reina was also the end of the walking and she was taking a train back to Barcelona the day after. Angela, as well as Francesco who soon joined us, are to continue from here on. After we had seen Rafael off, we parted, but we also agreed to meet up later in order to have a dinner together again. That was when Gabriel (a French) was also with us and he was to continue with the pilgrimage as well.
And so, as the company parted today in all different directions, I rested very well and did everything at leisure. I even walked around Puente la Reina a little. The place, no matter how picturesque, is still most often just another stop on the Way of St James.
After a good night’s sleep, gradual calming down of the cough and the resting, I slowly started to feel again the desire to continue with my walking tomorrow. The body is abstaining, but my head and my soul would like to move on.
In front of me: 705 km
Behind me: 162 km