Pilgrim life

It’s quite a contrast to spend a night within your tent, alone in the openness, and the next packed like a sardine amongst 100 other men, aching, groaning and rubbing themselves with muscle rub after a day walking the Santiago de Compostela.I’d been following that yellow arrow again, which led me to the centre of Leon and a large hostel – the Alberque, a resting house for pilgrims walking to Santiago de Compostela. I wondered if I needed evidence of some religious nature or knowledge to prove myself worthy of pilgrimage status (a quick test on biblical stories and characters would have been sufficient to show I was a fraud) but few questions were asked and I was soon given a credential – a kind of pilgrim’s passport. .People from all nationalities come to walk this holy trail, some on a religious or spiritual mission, but many others for the physical challenge. With cheap hostels dotted along the 700km route it’s also a budget way to see and travel through Spain. In the space of several hours I met a man from France, another from the Czech Republic (who’d walked from his home) and a woman from New York, one of the rare English speakers. There were also half a dozen cyclists – Spanish and German I think, who’d arrived shortly after me.I was partly jealous. There was clearly a camaraderie and common spirit amongst people as they met with others they perhaps hadn’t seen for several days, compared blisters and talked about their experiences. I’m not sure I would be able to handle the conformity of the Alberque rules though - doors close at 9.30pm, lights are out at 10 and back on at 6am, and check-out is at 8am. I think this is universal amongst most Alberques. Life as a pilgrim isn’t of course meant to be a holiday.Most people begin their day’s walk when it’s still dark, departing with a militant style march onto the streets and a call of “buon camino” to fellow pilgrims. I hadn’t had a full rest day in two weeks and my request to stay a second night appeared a little out of form. I was shown the door at 8am and told to return at midday. When I did the place was filling up rapidly again. Today’s pilgrims were older, which meant the cacophonous orchestra of snoring was of even higher decibal levels than the previous night. Ear-plugs would be the first thing I’d pack if I was a pilgrim. Sleeping in the middle of the dormitory is clearly a mistake. I will pay more attention when I arrive in Astorga later today.