Startpoint: Cireuña; Endpoint: Viloria de Rioja; Steps taken: 26,794; Distance walked: 20km. Conditions: a little overcast but still bright, warm but not too hot, perfect for walking. It´s begun to get a little cloudy and windy now and we´ve been told there may be rain tomorrow. 

I´m typing this from a big comfy armchair in our hostel in Viloria de Rioja. Dad and I were the first pilgrims to arrive. We were waiting outside when the landlady opened the doors at 2pm. She knew us as the Misters Magee when I said I had reserved two beds. She greeted us in perfect English and invited us inside where there was music playing and incense burning. It´s not hard to enjoy this. 

Last night, we had dinner in the local pub in Cirueña with two Bulgarian ladies, two Spanish gents (one from Catalonia, one from Andalusia), and a man from Brazil. Much was translated and much was lost in translation, but everyone enjoyed the meal. One of the Bulgarian girls is also writing a blog and has nearly 700 fans. But she is able to write with both hands at the same time, which probably explains her popularity. Dad and the Catalonian man discussed the economic logic behind Real Madrid´s signing of Gareth Bale for [holds little finger to mouth like Doctor Evil] a hundred million Euros, but they were unable to figure it out. Dad gave the Brazialian man the name of an Irish bishop he used to know, in case they find each other. Brazil only has 205 million people, so it is possible.

After dinner, our grumpy landlord came to the pub to remind us all that the hostel closes at 9.30pm, so we better get back and go to bed, which we did. 

Shortly after lights out, the couple sharing with us turned on a machine. It was some form of breathing apparatus, which lead me to wonder (in my sleepy, tipsy state), whether the guy was actually Darth Vader in disguise. The machine made a noise like a large industrial vacuum-cleaner gargling wet concrete. When I got out of my squeaky top-bunk bed to get my earplugs, I was told to keep the noise down.

I had an odd dream during the night. I dreamt that I was a shapeshifting superhero cat/ninja and was fighting off my evil enemies. At one point in the dream, I gave Darth Vader two super-fast karate kicks right to the face. Unfortunately I was actually kicking the bars of my bunkbed, which woke up my Dad. My foot hurts now. 

I was told today that the machine was a sleep apnea machine and if the man hadn´t used it, he would not have been able to breath in his sleep. I feel bad for trying to super-cat-ninja-kick him in my sleep.

I often have difficulty finding places to charge my mobilephone in the hostels. I wonder does Darth Vader have difficulty finding places to plug in his Vader machine.  We met the same couple on the road today. They were very nice. I hope we never meet them again. 

 

The grumpy landlord gave us toast for breakfast this morning. Very hard, very old toast. Out of spite, we ate lots of it. 

At ten o´clock, after about thirteen kilometers, we stopped to have an orange juice, a cafe-con-leche and a slice of cake. We bumped into two Irish lads and an Australian girl we´ve been seeing every so often. They´d stayed in Santo Domingo overnight and were moving on to Belorado, from one decent size town to another. We stayed in Cirueña last night (a small villlage) and we´ve now  moved on to Vilora de Rioja (a second grade hamlet). Getting back on the big town circuit would require a very long day or a very short day, so we´ll be staying in small places until we reach Burgos on Monday. 

Staying in smaller places means we need to ring ahead and book beds in advance. When I called our current hostel yesterday, she told me they open at 2pm, so we should eat before we arrive, as there is no bar in the town to get food. I took this to mean that we would have access to neither food nor drink from 2pm this afternoon to 10am tomorrow morning. As such, we stocked up in Grañon. For the last seven kilometres of today´s walk, in addition to my already overweight pack, I carried a tin of tomatoes, a bag of pasta, some sweetcorn, four cans of beer and small bag of olives.

We arrived in Viloria de Rioja to find that the hostel offers both dinner and breakfast in return for a voluntary donation. They also sell cans of cold beer for 1 euro a pop. I made a joke to a Canadian sitting beside us that after carrying my warm can seven kilometers, it would taste extra good. The cold can he carried from the kitchen seems to be suiting him just fine. 

 

Today we left the Rioja region and moved into the province of Castilla y Leon. We could see changes in the use of the land straight away. Instead of vineyards, we passed by fields of sunflowers, cauliflower, cabbages, onions and wheat. Unfortunately, this means there is far less scope for petty theft of farm produce. 

My Dad says that he thinks they also used to grow oats here, as he could see wild oats growing in some of the ditches. This may have been a double entendre I didn´t understand. 

Today we discussed Dad´s work in the IT industry during the seventies and eighties. At one stage, a typist´s error nearly lead to a computer manual answering the important question ´how many bites can fit on a floppy dick´. 

He also told about an early referencing system once used which would have lead to clients in Ardfert, County Kerry recieving statements during the month of September numbered ArSe01, ArSe02 and so on. 

 

We had lunch with the Irish lads and Aussie girl in a town called Catildelgado. The local hotel, restaurant and bar was a truckers´rest-stop called El Chocolaterea. They didn´t serve chocolate. Dad wanted a KitKat after his eggs and bacon but they told him he couldn´t have one. Across the road was a place called Club Galicia. It had silhouettes of female bodies painted in bright pink on its blacked-out  windows. I think it was a ballet school or something. Spanish truckers love the ballet.  

 

There are only ten beds in the hostel we´re staying in now. For the first time since Villatuerta, I am sleeping on a real bed on the ground, rather than the top bunk. It makes me feel like a proper grown-up. They have a decent computer (but no card reader, so no pictures), comfy armchairs, a little library, free first aid supplies, and lovely hot showers. It costs 5 euros per bed per night. 

For some reason, on the wall behind my bed, a heavy metal ring has been hammered into the wall. It looks like something that would be used to restrain livestock. Nobody else´s bed has one. I am trying not to wonder why mine does. Perhaps I´m special. 

 

We have another reasonable walking day planned tomorrow. We´re planning on walking twenty-one kilometers into Villafranca Montes de Oca. And in this hostel,  breakfast is not served until 7am. It looks like I will be able to have a lie in tomorrow and get up quite late, assuming I haven´t been chained to the wall as I sleep (and assuming Darth Vader doesn´t get me).