Chapter 17: Nàjera to Santo Domingo: Everything is falling into place.

We were both up pretty early this morning. Becky woke me up around 630, and we had a lovely breakfast. We had to prepare the night before because Breakfast most mornings is Yogurt and Muesli, the Muesli bag being somewhere between fireworks and a jackhammer on the noise scale at 630 am.

But our Muesli bag has nothing on the Spanish party that was going on in Nàjera last night. They had some guy with a French Horn out there playing everything from classic Spanish folk music to the Bee Gees until about midnight. He was actually pretty good too. The French Horn isn’t exactly a party instrument but he had people dancing and singing.

We started our walk through the overcast countryside and thankfully, Becky had booked us a few days early because this week is Holy Week and the Camino is booked up for certain sections. Certainly the one we’re on.

It was a lovely but not particularly noteworthy walk. Becky was singing and walking and I was, admittedly, dragging behind her. I’m useless in the morning, and doubly so when cold, and so when the warmth started at about 930, I pepped up and started a brisker pace. We first arrived in a small town called Azofra.

Azofra had a small Cafe, and we checked my blood sugar, only to find that I was dropping pretty quickly. Controlling it has been tough and I have to start my day pretty high before I come into the walk or else I can’t keep up the numbers I need to get 8 hours of walking in.

So I ate.

Now, I don’t want to sound like a glutton, but there’s no way not to, so, here’s what I ate:

• A Chocolate Croissant
• A full can of Coca Cola
• A muffin
• Half of a twix (i think a left half, they sell twix as singles here…)
• A non-chocolate Croissant
• A cookie.

This got me to a level of sort of okay. As soon as we started walking I also ate an apple.

Our walk for most of the day was actually really pleasant, if not a little muggy, and we did just over 20kms.

Our day ended in a little town called Santo Domingo. It looks like a strange, industrial type town until you cross one street and you’re back in Old Spanish castle area.

We have made a couple of British friends and they’re quite nice. After we got settled into our place for the night they invited us out for a beer, which we obliged. What we didn’t know was that there was a Holy Procession planned for that night. I truly wasn’t expecting what we got.

So…I get what these guys look like. Apparently the imagery is WAY older than the problematic organization in North America who co-opted the look. The hats mean they are closer to God. It’s actually 2 feet closer, and the colors mean different things. Only the priests apparently get to wear all white, as they represent purity (there’s that symbolism) and the black hats mean they are in service to God. Either way, it was shocking another Becky and I sort of stared dumbfounded at each other for a bit before we scrambled for her phone to Google for context. The parade lasted a solid 25 minutes and went through all the Stations of the cross (plus some extra stations we didn’t recognize) and included some incredible music. Very worth staying up for.

We are due for a 20km day tomorrow so I’m gonna hang this up. Thanks again for reading! Love an