Changing Scenery

The bed I slept in last night was set so low to the ground that it was below knee level. As I rose to my feet, it was like beginning the day with the second part of a deep knee bend. I think I was justified in making a little bit of an old man noise.

I stepped out the door, onto the balcony, into a beautiful crisp morning of about 60 degrees. The air was fresh and sweet. When I walked back into my room, I detected the same odor I had when the proprietor first took me to it yesterday. Of course, I used the international facial signal to indicate that there was some type of smell. She responded with the international shoulder shrug that indicated, "and?"

I started out on my walk a little before 8:00 a.m. The city was just coming to life, with men and women heading off to work and children getting packed up for school.

Within 10 minutes. I was out of the small village and into farmland. Then it was on trails and onto small highways again. I paced off the total width of one of these small roads after a truck passed. It was less than 10 feet wide for two lanes. Most of the vehicles that passed seemed to "ride the zipper." 

It was also along this length of highway that I saw one of several stork tenements.

Hours went by without me seeing another person. I walked through several small villages, some with huge buildings falling in on themselves and totally deserted.

As I approached the hills, some of the vegetation began to change. Now there were succulents and cacti. Some of the latter were bearing fruit. There were several trees with fruit hanging off of them right alongside the path. I don't have enough knowledge to know what was safe to eat, so I avoided all of it. Occasionally I did see men out culling the fields, or off to the sides of the trail picking through vegetation and gathering items into their bags.

About 7 miles in I descended into another town. Coming up the hill was a man pushing a bicycle and speaking to himself. He looked like he might have been houseless, was heavily tanned and caked with dirt, wearing several layers of clothing. As I walked by, I greeted him with the Portuguese version of good morning. It sounded as if he said, "balde de merda" in reply.  I'll let anybody interested in knowing the translation look it up for themselves. I'm not sure if it was directed at me or if he was just ranting.

As I walked through the village I hoped to find a coffee shop where I could take a break and get a cafe con leche and pastry. I never found one. But, just before exiting the town, there was a rest area designed for Camino travelers. There were several benches, a table, and a potable water source. I took my break there. It felt great to sit down and remove my shoes and socks. I ate one of the sandwiches I had prepared and watched the people pass. Most of the residents shouted out positive greetings of good morning or good Camino. As I left that town I saw a rainbow off to the west. It was very encouraging and I took it as a positive sign.

Shortly thereafter, I entered the hilly part of the day. Then, almost immediately after cresting the first hill it began to rain. It was more than a drizzle and less than a downpour. Even if I had brought my rain gear along, I'm not certain I would have put it on. With even the best venting, a rain jacket becomes very hot, very fast. My shirt probably would have been just as damp with or without the extra layer of protection. I took consolation in the wonderfully fresh smell of the rain falling through the forest among the eucalyptus trees.

About 10 miles in, the Fatima Trail rejoined the same track as the Camino de Santiago. It only overlapped for about a hundred yards and then moved off again to the left. Out in the middle of nowhere was a red chair. I wondered if somebody put it there purposely as a rest stop. I didn't take advantage of the opportunity. The rain had ended and I was making good progress.

At about 12 miles, I finally found my coffee shop. It was filled with about ten men. The only woman in the building was behind the bar. A gentleman turned to me and asked me if I spoke French. I was surprised and happy to engage him. He opened up a spot at the bar for me to order my cafe con leche and we chatted a bit as I waited for it to be prepared. In appreciation, I bought him a small glass of wine in addition to the coffee for myself. The total cost for both beverages was about $2. Sadly, there were no pastries. I felt I had earned one by this point.

Before leaving I asked the woman working there if she had a stamp for my booklet. She responded in the affirmative. Not only did she have a stamp, she had a good one! I did not realize there was a competition. But she was right, it was good. The last thing I asked was about the total lack of women in the cafe. She explained that in the country areas women are treated differently than in the city. I nodded that I understood.

There were only about 5 miles left to go before reaching Tomar. The hills began to flatten out a bit, but unfortunately the path was back along the N10. During the last hour I actually caught up with a couple of other people. Both ladies were German. They did not know each other. Ursula was a kindergarten teacher. I have no picture of her because we were both dodging traffic on the highway as I passed. She was walking at a considerably slower pace.

With about 30 minutes left I caught up with Xena. Like so many other young pilgrims she had quit her job to set out on this journey. She was 30 years old, and her prior job was helping people with cognitive issues. She had just finished a trip to India where she studied yoga to become an instructor. Interestingly enough, the word for namaste in German is namaste.

Xena was carrying a huge pack and informed me that when she got to town she was going to ship some items home. We chatted for a while and entered the town together, splitting up shortly after reaching the city limits. She headed to her alburgue and I proceeded to my hotel.

It was back to routine for me. Wash out the clothes, shower, and head to the grocery store to reprovision for tomorrow. The closest grocery turned out to be a health food store. In addition to the water I purchased, I picked up some kind of seaweed bar. Tomorrow I'll find out just how hungry I am when I open that package.

No nap today. I was looking forward to a local dinner and my $20 meal in Tomar did not disappoint. When the waiter asked if I was finished with my meal, I told him my meal had finished me. I’ll get a solid night’s sleep on a full stomach. Lots of hills to face tomorrow.