This morning started with the German Slow walker and me rushing to be the first people out of the albergue so we could get some breakfast from the bar up the street. The French sisters were already there chomping on surprisingly fresh croissants.

The Brazilian waiter who had been there the night before looked too tired to be up this early.

I chose a chocolate croissant which I think was my first fresh chocolate croissant for breakfast this visit to the camino. It was delicious! The German architect joined us and we marvelled at the German slow walkers statistic cards. She kept laminated records of each camino with distances and towns recorded. But it was time for her to go. I said good bye to the German Slow walker and watched her walk out the door. She was too fast for me. The French sisters headed out too. So did the German architect.

I enjoyed a cappuccino with cinnamon on top which was a real treat. Then I too headed out the door. It was glove time again. Very cold.

So it was a long cold walk for quite a while. Actually it felt like it was down below 5 degrees when I left and eventually it warmed up enough to be a pleasant walking day despite the wind heading into Chicken town via the ghost town with the golf course.

Chicken town is the town where the chickens hang in the cathedral above Santo Domingo due to the very old story that two roast chickens jumped up off the kings plate and ran away one day. I think you should google if you are interested. I amused myself watching death Vader as I walked into town.

I saw my first hamburger and pizza vending machine and I actually bought a new pair of hiking sandals as I was passing through. I was concerned that my Parisian blisters would revisit if I walked too far in my other Teva’s without socks again and lets face it, having a pair of sandals you can wear without socks is really preferable on days off!.

I continued on to Grañon because I really wanted to stay in the Paroquial because on previous visits husband had never warmed to the idea of sleeping on a mattress on the floor with a bunch of other pilgrims and my friend had recently volunteered there and reignited my interest.

It was a long walk from Chicken town to Grañon and when I could finally see the destination in site I heard a marching team stomping up behind me and I turned to see two men with humongous packs stomping up behind me. One had his hair tied up like Thor and no shirt on as his arms swung in unison to each side. I looked at them as they marched by and informed them “too much energy!” They laughed and marched on.

Little was I to know they were to be the chefs for the evening. They didnt look like chefs but they were Italian. It was to be a reminder of when the Italians took over the kitchen at the nunnery.

I finally arrived at Granon and I placed my boots in the rack and pack on the first floor room where the sign directed me to as I entered the back of the church.

I headed up the staircase to register with the volunteers and was given the timetable for the evening and a cup of cold water. The pilgrims would all help to prepare the meal and then help to clean up. Before dinner would be a mass with a pilgrim blessing which they encouraged all to attend whether religious or not as it would be something special. And then after dinner we would all be led through a small door into the choir area at the back of the church for reflection time.

Well this all sounded quite lovely and quite a unique experience but …. The Italians were cooking. But while they were cooking they were drinking red wine and singing and all the vegetables for the salad had been prepared by everyone else. But they kept singing. And they kept drinking wine. And they were loud. And no one else could hear each other. Of course we were laughing and happy. But we were hungry. Eventually the Swedish hippies started banging there cutlery yelling “we want food” The Mexican yoga instructor suggested the ring leader was an Italian movie star. The French mountain girl and the retired Madrilian all joined in with them. There were no nuns to bring the Italians into line!

Eventually the volunteers rang a bell and order was restored and the dinner was served. Thank heavens! I was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep. It was almost too late for me to eat. I had thought Italians – pasta and was very hungry. Sadly the guys may well have all been movie stars because they certainly weren’t chefs! Beans and tomato sauce on rice. Luckily there was some salad and bread. The dessert was also not the lovely homemade bread and butter pudding others had experienced at this very establishment. Oh well. We clearly weren’t there for the food!

When we finally went downstairs to sleep all the mattresses had now been taken and there was no room for anything beside you. I had located myself on a bay window thankfully and was able to utilise the space to keep water and phone and earplugs close by.

I’ll obviously be rushing back to the next paroquial 🤪with the cacophony of snorers, the odd screamer (a girl who had a nightmare) and a visit to the bathroom in the dark providing a challenging obstacle course!

Buenas noches!