Day 15: Burgos to Isar, 26.5 km

I can't believe I have been doing this for two whole weeks now. And I'm not half way done, but I should be by Thursday when I arrive at Terradillos de Los Templarios.

Yesterday morning I left Burgos. The guy at the hostal told me that a place on the corner "should be open by 8:00 for breakfast." Often, particularly in small towns, if I have to find my own breakfast, these little bars are depressingly empty, offering up only coffee, uninspiring croissants, and packaged magdalenas. So I was delighted to walk in to a place that was hopping, probably with folks who had been out all night (it was Sunday morning). There was an impressive display of little sandwiches, so I took three: two to eat and one for the road. With coffee it was under 5€.

And then I headed out of Burgos (a much nicer walk than the run into town) and out into the "mesta," or flat farmland that I tend to think of when I picture the Camino in my head.

I had been walking now and then for the past few days with an American named Derek. He was pleasant enough, but amazingly helpless (spoke not a word of Spanish) and out of shape. At first I felt like his slow pace kept me from overdoing, but eventually I got bored and fed up.

I had been dropping him on climbs, but then feeling I had to wait. So walking out of San Juan de Ortega he wasn't keeping up, and I just kept on walking. I looked back once or twice to see if he made a couple of turns. Yes. So I just kept going. There was a tricky, foggy climb then, and I knew he'd never catch up. It is not expected that you wait for people. You are supposed to do your own thing. I didn't miss him.

That said, yesterday I left Burgos and was chugging along, and then thought I saw him ahead of me. My heart sank (because I had forgotten ALL about him), and I was already thinking what I would say when I passed him (because I was going to pass him) and feeling bad about it.

Now I'm gonna tell you a story and I don't want you to get all freaked out. Because I just don't want to go over it again and again in comments, but at the same time it is part of my Camino.

By now, some nice looking Spanish guy on a bike coming toward me stopped and asked me the time. There were tons of guys on bikes out (it's like that every weekend, and it makes me miss my bike). I took out my phone and said, in Spanish, "It's almost 11:00."

He thanked me and rode off, but then a few minutes later rode up from behind me and grabbed my breast. I was mad, and said "WHAT THE HELL?!?" He stopped a bit in front of me and did a mea culpa gesture and gave me some crap in Spanish about how he couldn't help it, I was muy bonita.

I waved my walking stick threateningly and told him to go away and fuck off. He passed me and rode away.

I walked on, annoyed at what I didn't say. I came around a corner, and the guy I thought was Derek-the-American, but wasn't, was sitting under a bridge smoking a cigarette. I assumed he was an Anglo (he had red hair) and asked in Spanish if he was okay. He said yes, and I kept walking.

Not 15 minutes later, Spanish bike dude comes up from behind me and grabs me again and keeps going.

This time I yelled, "¿No tienes una madre? ¿No tienes hermanas? ¿No tienes hijas? Porque todos somos iguales!"

Now I was spooked, and the next time a bike came up behind me I must have jumped three feet. This poor guy was horrified, but I tried to explain, "Hay un hombre malo aquí hoy."

Soon I reached a little village and I sat on a bench in a fairly active area and ate my lunch. Before too long, Bridge Dude comes by, and I asked if he minded if I walked with him. He's from Barcelona, name's Ramon, does something involving glass for display cases or buildings, nice as can be. Agreed Bike Dude was mal educado, and let me tag along until I peeled off to go to my hotel.

So I was annoyed at feeling vulnerable. No, I wasn't hurt at all, and I doubt Bike Dude had any more serious plans. He was small and skinny (like a serious cyclist) and I probably could have hurt him had I the chance to get closer. I certainly could hurt his bike, and that's what I was planning to do -- put one of my sticks through a wheel and mess it up. Since he apparently views women's bodies as things he can have, just like a bike.

And while these were points on the path where I was alone, there really were plenty of other cyclists and a lot of guys in tractors working fields near me. I thought about stopping and talking to one of them, but I couldn't really identify the guy (white bike, black and white kit, nice looking).

Anyhow, the rest of the day was uneventful. You've seen the photos and video by now. It finally began to rain in earnest, and I was happy to have a hot shower and a couple of glasses of wine before a really nice dinner. I think I was asleep by 9:30.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Isar, Spain