Courtyards, Croissants, and the Coming Wasteland
The sun was still asleep as we packed up and set out for Carrión de los Condes. After yesterday's lightning-fast pace, today promised a calmer, steadier walk, but Maddy soon had to pause and take it easy. She urged me to keep going, promising she'd catch up later.
The trail markers guided me like sentinels, each one marking a small gate along the path between Fromista and Carrión. With the sun rising behind me, I marched along the gravel, noting each kilometer, though their constant reminders of distance only tested my patience.
Villarmentero de Campos offered the first chance for food. A bar decorated with scarecrows and mannequins looked a little eerie, but I grabbed a croissant and banana, used the bathroom, and pressed on. This would be the only pitstop before reaching Carrion.
In Villalcazar de Sirga, I detoured through the town center to admire the church, said to be the last built by the Templars. I paused along the way, hoping to spot Maddy, but no familiar dots appeared on the horizon. The final stretch to Carrion seemed endless, but at 10 a.m., I finally reached the town square. Bar Carmen became my temporary home as I waited for the others, enjoying breakfast and practicing my Spanish with a patient bartender.
Afterward, I explored the side streets and did some necessary shopping: a new money belt and a pair of sunglasses to replace the ones ruined earlier. Two hours later, Crissi and Bianca texted me: they'd secured beds at the Monasterio de Santa Clara. It was time to leave the bar, and I was more than ready to settle in.
Without Wi-Fi but with the promise of cooking, we shopped for dinner supplies and gathered in the monastery courtyard. A little wine, meats, cheeses, and grapes made for a relaxed afternoon. I even bought my first Camino souvenir: a small yellow arrow pin, a symbol of the trail.
Crissi and I wandered the parks near the river under the high sun, exploring as temperatures approached the upper 90s. Before dinner, we enjoyed a local Spanish guitar performance at the church. That evening, Ciro from Hontanas cooked a feast that left me fully satisfied. Crissi and I washed the dishes while belting out 1985 and Wannabe.
Tomorrow we'd cross The Wasteland: 18 kilometers of nothing but the Meseta. If it weren't for the towns and the people we meet along the way, this stretch would be unbearable. The Camino proves, once again, that it's the small joys and connections that make each step worthwhile.