El Camino de Santiago

Known for architecture from across the centuries and views varying from the pyranees to rolling vineyards, from red soil to green pastures and rocky cliffs, the ancient tourist attraction that pulled Spain out of the Alto Edad Media (first part of the middle ages) is, while perhaps less spiritual in the American sense of the word, is quite the experience . . . and I only walked four days.
Snapshot moments:
My cyclist friend from Leon, José. He asked if the bed was free. I asked if he had come on bike at the albergue. Simple enough. And we took a stroll through the little town of Puente la Reina chatting. He drives autobuses for Alsa and took it upon himself to teach me all the tacos and fixed expressions he knew. He bought me a beer, and then dinner. We couldn't stop laughing that night because of the atrociously loud snorer bunked a few beds down, and we said adiós, buen camino the next day.

The various folk in Estella: an australian woman who gave me a wash cloth and shower gel (do I smell that bad?? No, kidding, she was sending things back home because she had brought too much), who I could barely understand and who could barely understand me because our accents are so distinct. A couple from the States who were completely unable to operate in the town, so I accompanied them shopping and translated their meat, cheese, what you will needs to the grocers. The brasileans who gave me their left overs (a decent portion of salad, spagetti, and wine) for change of my washing the dishes (good deal).

Marriage proposel in Viana. Or we could just be lovers. And I won't be around too long, That's my grandson, he's a good boy. That is also my grandson. If you come to Logroño, I'll come down every day to see you . . . oh dear, oh dear, dos besos y nada más, mi amor. But I'm sure you want more than dos besos. I really love you. Que gracia.

Bufada en Logroño. Met a guy at the bus station in Logroño, said bye, went to store my stuff before seeing the city and he invited me for a coffee. Umm. Okay.
What do you drink?
Cafe. (he said a coffee, no?)
You don't drink alcohol?
Yes (but you said a coffee).
What?
Beer or wine, either one.

So he orders me a beer, we sat and chatted until his bus came. He is an immigrant from Somalia and lives in Vitoria but loves to travel and wants more than anything to see the United States. He's going back to Somalia in a month to see his family for the first time in five years.