Startpoint: Calzadilla de la Cuerza; Endpoint: Sahagun; Distance walked: 22.5km; Steps taken: I’m guessing 29,000 – the pedometer isn’t co-operating.

A little earlier today, I met Walter from Australia, who is also walking the Camino. He is walking to raise awareness of Cystic Fibrosis, so along with the difficulty of walking 800km, he’s also carrying a 16kg pack which contains his medicines as well as all his gear. If you’re as impressed as I was, and you’re on facebook, you can follow Walter’s progress on http://www.facebook.com/coughing4cf
You can also follow this blog on facebook on http://www.facebook.com/baldfeet.

I slept very well last night in pastel-pink sheets. During the night, i made a lot of noise and the turned the lights on and off a few times, just cause I could. Nobody in the room snored, farted, coughed, or screamed in their sleep; or if they did, it was me and I don’t care.

I started walking before sunrise and had about 4km done before it came my shadow appeared. I turned and faced the rising sun and smiled as the light hit me. Then the other walkers started giving me strange looks.

In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been mistaken for Finnish, Brazilian and British. The Finnish and British are probably due to my pale complexion and I’m putting the Brazilian confusion down to the samba rhythm of my hips as I walk. I’ve looked at myself in the mirror and I can assure you that watching me walk is quite something, even when I’m hobbling along in dirty trekking pants and leaning on a second-hand broomstick.

When I stopped for coffee, I got chatting to four ladies about the elevated train system in Wuppertal, Germany. They had all bought bananas in the coffee shop. I also tried to buy a banana, but was only given an apple. At least it was better than my last apple, which had fallen from a tree beside the path and which, when cut open, contained the second half of a very recently deceased worm.

I arrived in Sahagun not knowing would I stay for the day or move on. I decided to have some lunch while I thought about it. The first place I found was an Irish pub. I ordered a cervesa and some tortilla patatas. As I drank my beer and ate my potatoes I considered how much I dislike national stereotypes. I decided to stay in town to ponder this conundrum some more.

Luckily I was still early enough to have my pick of bottom bunks in the hostel. No dangling my pale-white legs in front of a stranger’s face tomorrow morning. They don’t even know what they’re missing.

I passed the halfway point today. It wasn’t marked on the trail or on the map. I celebrated by taking a photo of a South Korean couple with their own camera. The background was a piece of trail like any other.

Saturday is market day in Sahagun. It was louder than anything I’ve ever heard and I only caught the tale end of it. I tried to buy a handful of nuts to snack on as I wandered around, but miscalculated. My pack is now two kilos heavier than it was and my fibre intake for the next two weeks is assured.

The churches in Spain all close during the day, but as I passed one, a lady spotted my Brazilian looks and immediately took me for a tourist. She offered to open the church for me to look around it. I accepted. Unlike most of the churches on the Camino, this one was badly in need of repair and renovation. Brickwork was damaged or missing; the statues were cheap plastic or plaster and handwritten paper signs described which saint was portrayed by each statue. Some of the statues were dressed in cloth costumes, like shop window dummies. There was no gold and no marble. The woman who had opened the door for me sat patiently while I looked around. There was a box for donations, but she didn’t ask me for anything. I considered offering her a half-kilo of toasted almonds to thank her for letting me in, but dropped some coins in the box instead.

Buen Camino