Foul Smelling Fowl & Odd Ducks
Expect the Unexpected
The rooster crowed. “Good morning, Sunshine. Up and at ‘em! It’s another beautiful day on the Camino de Santiago”.
Groan!!! Go away, bird. The annoying fowl squawked again. Bird, be quiet! I heard you the first time. Brrrr, it’s freezing in here. I pulled the covers over my head and zonked out again, still exhausted from my previous day on the Camino.
What now? Bird! Get away from my blanket… I swatted at…
“Rise and shine, Pilgrim. Time to get up.” Hubs was already dressed and had a cup of coffee for me. Strong coffee. REALLY STRONG coffee, the way I like it. I sat up and took a sip of my morning kicker. The haze slowly lifted, but the gnawing pain in my right knee reminded me I injured myself on the Camino the day before. Barely off the starting block and I was already a lame duck, counting on the support of my new knee brace.
With 25 kilometers to walk to our next destination, I didn’t have time to moan and groan about my battle wounds. We needed to get on the Camino.
The rhythmic tapping of my walking sticks was like a metronome, setting the pace for my feet to keep moving, one in front of the other. The whole shebang became hypnotic. Instinctive. Ingrained in my brain. Forever. And ever…
One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap. One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, tap,
Ugh! It’s another slug!
Yech! I know we’re SLUGGING IT OUT, but wasn’t it enough that I dealt with your slimy cousin yesterday morning? So what’s the deal, Slug? Help me out here…do you have a message for me that I don’t understand, or are you just trying to creep me out? No offense to you personally, slugs just aren’t my thing.
One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three,
What are those odd little buildings? They look like oversized elf houses.
These strange-looking structures are horreós, literally “raised granaries.” The word is pronounced ōreo, just like the cookie. Sometimes referred to as the “unofficial symbol of Galicia” horreós are seen all along the Camino. Recall that Galicia is the region of Northwest Spain where the Cathedral de Santiago is located and it is the final destination of the Camino de Santiago.
Although Galicia has designated 30,000 horreós as “protected buildings” most of them remain in varying states of disrepair due to the HIGH COST of PERMITS that are required to restore them.
Hmmm… I can’t imagine why hard-working peasants who can barely make ends meet, aren’t eager Juany-on-the-spot ready to spend next month’s grocery money to line the government coffers and scoop up those permits to repair all the 400-year-old dilapidated granaries that sit crumbling to pieces on private property.
One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three,
We passed through several hamlets, most of which had small stone cottages built in the 16th and 17th centuries. At times it was hard to tell if anyone lived in the cottages or not. The cottage in the photo above was occupied. Imagine the FASCINATING TALES this cottage could tell if it had a voice!
“Oh wow! Look at THIS! I HAVE to get a picture of it.” The ramshackle, building captured my eye and I saw a PRIZE photograph. National Geographic would want this one… for sure!
“Look at what?” Hubs craned his neck to get a closer look at the fan of weather-beaten boards precariously hanging over one side of the stone structure. “I don’t see anything.”
“You don’t? How can you NOT see it? It’s an INCREDIBLE picture! Look at it.” I waved my hand across the span of the entire picturesque masterpiece. Creativity never was his strong suit.
“Okay… if you say so.” Hubs sounded doubtful. He had that “I think she’s flipped her lid” look on his face.
“Trust me. This will be the BEST picture we take on the entire Camino!”
In retrospect, what on earth was I thinking? Maybe Hubs was right. I may have flipped my lid.
One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three,
The Camino curved gently through a large grassy meadow before it headed up a hill and merged with a country road. From there it skirted in front of three long white commercial farm buildings, turned left, and slowly disappeared out of sight. Blah, blah, blah…
SLAM! In a flash, the idyllic rural scene became irrelevant, OVERPOWERED BY A HORRENDOUS STENCH that violently ambushed my unsuspecting nostrils. Hoping to block out the foul odor, I pulled my neck scarf over my mortified nose. No such luck. When it stinks, it stinks. And this took stink to a whole new level!
“Lois, did you FART?!”
Seriously? Oh…my… goodness… He WAS SERIOUS!!! How on earth could Hubs even think that such a NAUSEATING REEKING FOUL STENCH was emanating from ME?! Really! Did I fart?! Now who had flipped their lid? Nothing, absolutely nothing on God’s green earth could EVER make me smell THAT BAD!!!
Besides that, he knew full well my little toots ALL SMELL LIKE ROSES.
I wanted to rip the guy’s lips off. I admit, I even thought of clobbering him with my walking stick. Instead, I gathered the composure of a lady with rose-scented toots, “Uh, look up there… on the hill. This awful smell has to be coming from those HUGE white chicken barns, NOT FROM ME!” I sputtered and coughed, trying desperately not to woof my breakfast cookies.
We were doomed to endure the sickening aroma of chicken schlitt that was oozing out of the massive poultry barns and descending upon the entire surrounding area.
The sooner we got through Chickenville and its toxic fumes the better. We geared up the pace to full throttle and charged ahead. I tell you, we were pilgrims burning rubber - our sneakers were smokin’!
I didn’t have time to mess around with my walking sticks and all that tap-tap-tap stuff. No way! I picked those bad-boys up, tucked them under my arms, and ran like jack-the-bear with his rump BLAZING IN FLAMES! I blew past Chickenville so fast that it took me another half a mile just to cool the rubber on my sneakers, and to gear back down to my regular walking pace. Fastest I’ve ever gone and probably ever will go.
One, OUCH, tap, three, OUCH, tap, One, OUCH, tap, three, OUCH, tap, One, OUCH, tap, three, Ouch tap, One, OUCH, tap, three, OUCH, tap, One, OUCH, tap,
My status as a Lame Duck caught up with me. My bungled knee, overwhelmed by pain, SCREAMED in protest against my renegade flight through Chickenville. Furthermore, my GOOD knee joined the rant Yup! It had grown cantankerous and nasty about having to overcompensate for my bungled knee.
One minute I think I’m a regular Buzz Lightyear, …
the next I’m a Double-Bungled-Kneed Lame Duck, waddling along using my walking sticks as make-shift crutches.
No way! I did not go to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago, only to wimp out and take a taxi cab. If I wanted to qualify for a Pilgrim Certificate (a Compostela) I had to walk every inch of the way. I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel. After all, I didn’t expect this venture to be a piece of cake.
I hobbled into the next town where we went straight to the farmacia and bought another knee brace for wounded knee número dos. Yea! With a bit of nourishment and time to rest, I’d be raring to hit the Camino in top form. We headed to a restaurant that had been recommended to us and sat down. I propped my leg up to ease the pain.
Check my socks in the picture below. I specifically selected these socks out of a quadrillion pairs that I tested because they had no seams and they fit perfectly. However, there is a slight change in the weave where the Under Armor brands are on the socks. By the time I finished walking the Camino, those “slight differences in the weave” ground the Under Armor brands right into the skin on my lower legs. I had permanent Under Armor brands dented in my legs for several weeks after I got home. I did not get any blisters though. I have very sensitive skin in addition to rose-scented toots.
“Hey! I know you!” A LOUD voice BOOMED beside our table. “It’s me, Tex! Remember, we met last night at the hotel in Portomarin. WOW! What happened to your leg?”
Perhaps you recall meeting Tex in Part 3 El Camino: Lingo, Lego & Gotta Go! Tex, under the guise of being an expert, had amassed a crowd of newbie pilgrims as he expounded his copious amounts of wisdom on walking the Camino. Tex had one message he kept driving home like a redundant jackhammer: Push through the pain and don’t give up. Push through the pain and don’t give up. It was motivating and inspirational until I talked to him later and found out he had NEVER walked the Camino, but his deceased wife had. Tex and his son, Tex Jr. were carrying her ashes across the Camino on her final pilgrimage.
Tex pulled up a chair, while we ordered our meal and I fitted the new brace on my second bungled knee. I shared how I became a Double-Bungled-Kneed Lame Duck.
“Oh man! You can’t walk like that.” Tex sounded sincerely concerned. Then he dropped the bomb. “You need to do what I’m doing. I’m beat. I’ve got a room here for the night and I’m taking tomorrow off. Tex Jr. has gone ahead and I’m TAKING A TAXI to catch up with him tomorrow night.”
Oh sure. This joker had to be messing with me. What happened to his big brouhaha about pushing through the pain and not giving up? Joke or no joke, I wasn’t taking his bait. “I’m going to rest for a while and keep walking.”
Lunch was served. Hubs looked at me with one eyebrow raised. The call was mine. This whole Camino thing was my adventure and I was the wounded one. I fired a look back at him that gave him the answer in no uncertain terms: NO TAXI. He took a bite of his sandwich and leaned back to listen to the banter. Good luck to this dude. When the lady’s mind was made up it was a DONE DEAL. We were walking.
“Seriously, give those knees some rest. We can all hang around here and then split the cost of the taxi. I’ve already scouted it out. There’s a nice hotel here and they’ve got more rooms available… “ Tex was doing his best to get some company in his day off/taxi catch-up scheme. When he couldn’t get me to budge he tried to enroll Hubs.
Hubs wouldn’t agree to the taxi scheme. Hubs knew he was already in the doghouse for even suggesting that MY little rose-scented toots smelled like the NAUSEATING STENCH of three gigantic chicken farms.
We finished lunch and wished our friend Tex a Buen Camino. Perhaps we would see him and Tex Jr. along The Way. (We would… so keep this character in mind.)
I was ready to start walking again. A BRACED-Double-Bungled-Kneed Lame Duck.
One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, two, tap, three, four, tap. One, two, tap, three, four, tap, One, tap.
This is the fifth posting in my series about the Camino de Santiago. Check out my substack for Parts 1, 2, 3 & 4 for the previous El Camino episodes. And, don’t forget to Share this with others and press that Subscribe Button.
More Episodes to follow as Hubs and I continue our journey along the Camino!