I headed off to a brief dark night at around 4:45. It looks like my preaching of yesterday was less than effective since everyone remained sleeping. Despite the weather forecast the Italians showed me, which estimated 18°C in the morning and 42°C during the day.
The Way passes through a few villages with the usual barf-barf morning chorus. One chorus member ran out to personally wish me a good morning… than changed his quickly.
After another few villages the path leads to Ansiao, a larger town. This is a northern crossroad where Caminho de Santiago and Caminho de Fatima split. The surrounding countryside is a pure deja vu experience of Inland Dalmatia… dry stone walls, stone barns, olive groves.
I reached Alvorge around 11 am… planning a short break before continuing for another 6 km to Rabancal. But the plan completely collapsed due to a single mistake… I took a seat… and after sitting down … getting up, let alone continuing to walk, proved to be a … challenge. The bar owner had little difficulty in persuading me to stay at the local church albergue.
He literally drew me a picture with the location of the church and the albergue before giving me the key. There is the church… but by the time I got there I completely forgot what the guy drew. So I went on trying the key on each door that I saw … without success. Fortunately another local came by and pointed the albergue nearby… oh look… there is also a sign.
At the albergue, a mother and son form a cleaning crew for the day. The have the routine down pat and are quickly done.
Around 14 h I am joined by Nino and Rosana, Jorge and Ruta. The albergue has no air conditioning but a slight breeze makes it bearable… once you step outside it feels like inside of an oven. I really can’t figure out the people suffering through the heat. Than again I seem to recall a few occasions I suffered for ignoring sound advice… quite a few times actually.
I went back to the bar for a lunch with Jorge and Ruta and quickly annihilated a very good meal. I learned Ruta is studying for her PhD on mathematics … blondes sure get stereotyped incorrectly. Afterwards we went looking for a supermarket. Jorge asked a group of locals drinking beer and they all pointed the way… in a synchronised move that would impress a ballet choreographer.
That was day no. 10.