By the time I reached Los Arcos, my legs were about ready to give up. In fact, when I got to the albergue, I just sat there in the receiving area with my feet up for about half an hour because I couldn’t even remove my shoes from the pain. (Hmmm...I realize that I've said that every time I've arrived at an albergue for seven days now so yeah, I think this is going to be my daily refrain on this camino. So, seven days down, twenty one more refrains to go. 😅) Eventually, the pain eased up and I allowed my sister to show me to our bunks. I settled my pack beside my bed and started looking for a shower.
The shower stalls were outside and there were only 3, I think, so as you might imagine, there was a queue of pilgrims outside. Among those people waiting for their turn to shower was a group of about 6-7 Spanish people of varying ages. When I got there, I thought they were all walking together because they were so animated and looked very comfortable in each other’s company, but apparently they only met each other during the walk. They were so lively and enthusiastic, that it’s hard not to get caught up in their fun-loving spirit. Despite the language barrier, I found myself laughing at their antics. They all just seemed so happy to be there.
Among them was a familiar couple, familiar because we caught up with each other several times in today’s walk to Los Arcos. I realized during the walk that the man was actually blind. The woman with him was actually his guide, and not, as I originally assumed, his wife. Despite his condition, he was in very high spirits and he joined right along with the jokes and the laughter. That nudged me up big time. It’s like the universe was saying, “Hey, look at this man! He can’t even appreciate the sights you’ve seen so far in this camino, yet his spirit is so alive and he’s enjoying every moment.” So I tamped down the whining and just ‘enjoyed the moment.’
After the shower, we did our laundry
and went back to the town center to hunt around for dinner. Siesta was just
about done so the plaza was slowly filling up with people, and store fronts
were opening up for the weary pilgrims. My memories of Los Arcos are vague. But
in my mind, I see images of old winding cobbled streets that were probably left
over from days past, side by side with a remembered pain in my feet that made
me barely able to remove my hiking shoes at the end of the day. I also remember
a park littered with fascinating sculptures near the municipal albergue and an
archway leading to the town plaza, practically half of which were set up with
tables for diners and those who simply want to enjoy an ice-cold pitcher of
sangria as reward after a long hot day. Yep, I will definitely remember the
sangria.
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