Thursday, July 4, 2024

Day 12: Crashing at a Convent

The first light of dawn was just beginning to peek over the horizon, shortly after leaving our modest room, situated outside the main hub of Santa Cruz de Bezana. We had booked this accommodation by mistake, overlooking the exact location and inadvertently adding extra kilometers to our hike. Determined to make up for the lost distance, we started our day early, fueled by a mix of eagerness and necessity.

A short walk later, we arrived at the train station. The next leg of our journey required us to board a train, as it is illegal to cross the local bridge on foot, and the alternate route would have significantly extended our travel time. We purchased our tickets and settled in for the brief ride to Mogro, watching the landscape blur by, mostly shrouded by the darkness of dawn.

Disembarking in Mogro, we were greeted by a brief highway walk, first heading the wrong way due to misunderstanding a local, followed by a trek through neighborhoods that gradually transitioned into farmland. This blend of suburban and rural life was a curious sight for us, hailing from America. Here, dense clusters of single-family homes stood with yards full of cows, chickens, ducks, and occasionally horses. The juxtaposition of domesticity and agriculture is not a normal sight for us, but is far more common here in Spain.

The paved roads wound over rolling hills of farmland, guiding us onward until we descended into Requejada. Our feet, weary from the load-bearing demands of our journey paired with paved hiking, rejoiced at the sight of our first café stop. 

Spain’s public bathrooms, we had learned, often offered a curious mix of amenities. This café, however, was a lucky find, providing a toilet seat, toilet paper, and soap—three out of the usual four possible conveniences. It lacked a means to dry your hands. A surprising number of toilets we have found lack seats, and lack soap. Eek.

Refreshed and with food in our stomachs, we decided to forgo a grocery run. With the end of the day's journey in sight, we opted instead for another café stop before reaching our destination. Psycho indulged in an Oreo donut, a sweet treat that added a spring to our steps. We only had about seven kilometers left in the day.

By midday, we arrived in Santillana del Mar. Known as the city of "three lies"—it is neither holy (not a saint), nor flat (not level), nor coastal (not by the sea)—Santillana del Mar is a tourist magnet. The historic town, with its cobbled streets and ancient storefronts, seemed to look back in time. Our accommodations, a former convent turned hostel for peregrinos, did not open until later. So, as seasoned hikers do, we found a café and indulged in another meal.

The convent, now a refuge for weary pilgrims, offered rooms that were once the nuns' quarters, each turned into 2-bunk accommodations. After checking in, we quickly showered and napped, rejuvenating our bodies for an afternoon of exploration.

We reunited with Joe and Emilie from Sweden, sharing stories and laughs as we strolled through the town's historic streets. After parting ways, we decided to visit the Museum of Torture, driven by Psycho’s morbid curiosity. The exhibits were as intriguing as they were disturbing, providing a grim reminder of the past.
To shake off the somber mood, we headed to a sidrería, a cider house. There, we were fascinated by the contraptions used to pour cider from great heights, aerating the drink in a dramatic display before consumption. The refreshing taste of the cider and the lively atmosphere helped lift our spirits.

Returning to the convent, we joined Magnus, Ellen, Miriam, Sean, and another peregrino from Dresden, Germany, in the garden. The conversation was pleasant and calm, looking back and forward.

Dinner at the convent was a hearty affair. The room buzzed with the energy of pilgrims sharing tales of their journeys over bowls of vegerable soup, chicken in wine sauce, and creamy custard for dessert. Bread and wine flowed freely.

Tomorrow, we will rise early once more, ready to make our way to Comillas, where a rest day awaits us. 

(Due to a dead phone battery, I had no pictures on my phone today, all photos are on Apricots' phone)

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