Day 12, Á Burgos

6 abril 2010
So I stayed last night in a cute little hostel last night in Atapuerca called La Hutte. We started a fire in the fireplace, really Margarita did, used a free washing machine, and internet and made tea on the kitchenette hoplate. The roof wasn’t really finished and it was cold even with the fireplace; it felt like an authentic pilgrimage stay. Today I think I’ve a bit of tendonitis, according to the hostelero. But we got up about 7 AM—Alissa and Ko—were at the hostel yesterday when I arrived—we stopped in the second village and ate freshly made omelette bocadillos—or tortilla francesa. The barman seemed flustered. It turned out they had very little stock because their supplier hadn’t visited as scheduled yesterday. [I remember thinking, “it’s cool man”; it is amazing what walking half of the day can do for your stress level and wellbeing] They put on some great music, (Puerto Presente, Macaco’s latest album) I had a delicious café con leche, and we took a picture because it was the best bocadillo of the way so far.
The landscape was gorgeous at the start and it was a crisp, cold morning. From very soon on our walk we could see Burgos in the distance, but our way brought us through an ugly industrial long stretch of highway which was actually painful for me (because of what I am sure of now was a bad case of tendonitis then which I didn’t want to accept).
But we have arrived after a short 20 KM day and found a small by-donation hostel above a chapel right in downtown. There isn’t a kitchen but the hospitalero was very kind and told me to take a day of rest if I can.
I walked around Burgos with Alissa and Ko a bit and might decide to stay tomorrow. I did a bit of shopping and have enjoyed being in a city, well with the convenience of a city, but people gawked at Ko and I walking in our sportswear and flip-flops. Alissa at least had normal looking shoes and jeans, not shocking flip-flops and half-pants, but I laughed several times because of the facial expressions I got from people. [Spanish people are not afraid to look, look again, or even downright stare]