July 5th and The Day I Almost Died

Okay that may be being a little bit over dramatic. 

But seriously the beginning of the first day of the Camino makes you doubt every reason you have ever decided to go on this trek. 

The only thing that kept me through that first like 7 km was the fact that Billy had promised that there was a cafe at the top of the hill and I was dying for an espresso so it was this glimmer of hope of the horizon as we zig zagged up and down in this horrible fog which was great because it kept us cool because I kept thinking the end of the hill was near but when I got to the point past the fog where I could see I realized it was still going. 

But eventually after the climb that killed my legs. We ended up at this cafe and at this point it was like 8am because we had left at 6. But regardless Billy got a pint of beer.

Typical Brits

But at this time we had met Emily from New York and Rosie from Northern England. And we got something called a “tortilla” but it was really a quiche. And then Billy and I were talking about bananas because I really wanted one and I also thought it was hilarious the way the British accent sounds. 

Then Emily told us the most British sentence she ever heard was when this British girl took a bite of some cookie, didn’t like it, and declared “That’s not a proper jammy dodger” 

Which is my new favorite sentence ever. 

So naturally I’ve been saying it every 5 minutes to the chagrin of all the people that have been walking with me. Though I’m pretty sure they find me entertaining and not annoying. 
Though they all got on me last night for the word “fanny pack” because apparently fanny to the Brits means vagina so they all thought I was hilarious. And I’m the only American (because Emily has been living in Europe forever so she hardly counts) 

The end of the day was this truly tragic downhill and my baby toes got all smashed in and it was awful. Billy and I spent that leg of the trip with these two young Australians we met called Connor and Claudia. And after that ordeal we reached our accommodations which were in a fucking monestary castle

But it was classy as hell in there and right away Billy was like limping because his legs hurt so bad and I tired not to rub it in his face but I had told him to stretch. 

But then a group of us decided straight off to get beers because we deserved it and it turned into a great party despite the teasing I got as an American. We got the pilgrim meal which was just like pasta and some pork and French fries. So not really worth the 10 euros. Because that’s like more than 10 bucks and I can get a chipotle burrito bowl for less than that. Tho a Chipolte burrito bowl doesn’t come with wine so…tough decisions. 

And I went to bed so thirsty that I kept having dreams where I was trying to get water but no one would give any to me and I just kept yelling like “I just want water!” 

So a pretty good night all things considered. 

(This photo is from today but I decided to just add it anyway) 

One thought on “July 5th and The Day I Almost Died

  1. i am telling your grandfather that he should be reading this, too. You write so well — I am with you at every pain .. and with every stop for food!!! Love you…

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