Day Zero: Oviedo

By the time the sun came up, I had kissed my husband goodbye and was listening to the last gravelly sounds of Portuguese as my flight left Lisbon for Madrid.

Later, in the train station, I was approached by two young American women who were crazy excited to meet me, their first “real” pilgrim. They are walking the last 100 km to Santiago and had the scallop shells hanging from the backpacks to prove it.  On parting, I offered up a “Buen Camino” that left them overjoyed as It was the first time they’d heard it in Spain. Two years ago that I felt that same exhilaration as I made my way to the start of the Camino Frances.

My train went over, and through, some serious mountains on the way to Oviedo, and the view was as spectacular as it was intimidating. This terrain is nothing to sniff at.

So here I am. Alone. About to walk a difficult, lonely camino. Out of shape, a freshly-healed broken foot, very few pilgrims, and hills, yes hills, too many of them. Enough. There will be plenty of time for whining later.

 Not wanting to take things too seriously, here’s a shot from my hotel. I have a double bed with one long sausage-like pillow. Imagine the marital harmony of sharing that monster. Oh, and the pillow case is open at both ends in typical Spanish fashion.

Time to let my head rest on that pillow so I can face the first hills tomorrow.