Dolls doing it

A lovely holiday in Spain I hear you say- ah the tapas- the tree lined boulevards- the amazing shopping, beaches  and the Sangria. 

And then there is another Spain- stinky little villages, slushy country lanes, apple  trees, walnut trees, and oaks dropping acorns everywhere. Fat brown cows, scratchy chickens  and little piglets messing round in the village. It is so richly, lushly rural. Incredible.  

And in a small line, snaking across Spain, are the trudging pilgrims. A strange group of weirdos, each one with an agenda, a back- pack and high hopes. 

We are a week in and still haven’t managed to retrace our steps back to Bilbao where we landed and took an hour’s bus journey to the start. But the days are long, hot and brutal. Many steep climbs and some equally steep descents.

We are holding up pretty well despite the sunburn, dog bite and the blister on the sole of my foot. None of it seems to matter when you get to stretch out in your bunk with sixty other exhausted souls.

I am a very lucky woman really. Who would have known that skinny little Laura, so sick all through her childhood, would grow to be the  30 year-old Iron Maiden who can storm a mountain, jump though the slush, fend off the too friendly old men that frequent these hostels and still have the best organised back-pack in the whole hostel. Her washing OCDs are getting a good work out though, as everyone is obsessed with washing their few items of clothing and getting them dry. 

The tiny village where we have washed up today is called Mendata- it consists of a bar, an albergue with a lovely terrace and view of the countryside and about four houses.

We are currently sitting on the terrace (la terraza to us since we nearly speak Spanish), drinking the first vino Tinto of the day- ah how easy it is to be happy. 

PS 

And as for the photo!! It’s amazing what you can come across as you are wandering around the countryside.