León Solo
The next morning I drove to León, where I was able to obtain the Credential I needed for my walk to Santiago. En route, I passed a lot of Castilla y León province signs with the Castilla part spray-painted over, and the word SOLO added (i.e., "only León"). This made Asturia the only province where I didn´t see any separatist slogans. I´ve seen "Aragon Libre" signs and even a "Pirineos Libres" sign, not to mention all the graffiti in the Basque and Catalan regions. I wondered whether I would see any "Castilla Libre" signs when I reached Madrid.
As my luck would have it, that Tuesday was yet another one of the numerous Spanish holidays and so all the stores in Castilla y León (as well as in León Solo) were closed. In fact, it was a constant through all the various regions I visited in Spain that stores were closed almost any time you wanted them to be open. Most didn´t open until at least 10am, and all closed from 2 to 4:30 for siesta, reopening for an irregular amount of time in the early evening. Especially in small towns, stores could be closed either in the morning or in the evening, depending on when you most needed them to be open. All the stores were closed on either Sunday, Monday or both days. At other times, barring various holidays and personal vacations, stores would be open, unless closed entirely for the season.
The car rental agency in Ponferrada, where I was to begin my walk, was naturally closed, but this may have worked to my advantage, since I was able to return the car keys in a drop box without recording the fact that I was returning the car several hours late. Once again, I loaded all my belongings into my pack and stomped off in search of the nearest alberge. I picked up the yellow arrows near the imposing Knights Templar castle, and tried to follow them in reverse to the alberge, which was surprisingly difficult because the markings were so geared towards going in a single direction.
Finally, I found the crowded alberge, received the obligatory stamp in my Credential, paid the optional lodging fee, and claimed one of the last remaining bunk beds in the single-sex dorms. I should note that most women at the alberge were well over fifty, so I didn´t mind the single-sex aspect of the accomodations.
It was not the most restful night. The miniature old man on the bunk below mine turned out to snore like a dragon, seeming to shake the entire room with the deep rumblings in his throat. My roommates tried everything to make him stop, but only succeeded in changing the snore to a higher pitch, this time with a cheery whistle refrain. My earplugs, which have served me well on other nights, were almost completely useless and all I could do was hope the old man´s walking pace was slower than mine so that this would be our last night in the same room.
As my luck would have it, that Tuesday was yet another one of the numerous Spanish holidays and so all the stores in Castilla y León (as well as in León Solo) were closed. In fact, it was a constant through all the various regions I visited in Spain that stores were closed almost any time you wanted them to be open. Most didn´t open until at least 10am, and all closed from 2 to 4:30 for siesta, reopening for an irregular amount of time in the early evening. Especially in small towns, stores could be closed either in the morning or in the evening, depending on when you most needed them to be open. All the stores were closed on either Sunday, Monday or both days. At other times, barring various holidays and personal vacations, stores would be open, unless closed entirely for the season.
The car rental agency in Ponferrada, where I was to begin my walk, was naturally closed, but this may have worked to my advantage, since I was able to return the car keys in a drop box without recording the fact that I was returning the car several hours late. Once again, I loaded all my belongings into my pack and stomped off in search of the nearest alberge. I picked up the yellow arrows near the imposing Knights Templar castle, and tried to follow them in reverse to the alberge, which was surprisingly difficult because the markings were so geared towards going in a single direction.
Finally, I found the crowded alberge, received the obligatory stamp in my Credential, paid the optional lodging fee, and claimed one of the last remaining bunk beds in the single-sex dorms. I should note that most women at the alberge were well over fifty, so I didn´t mind the single-sex aspect of the accomodations.
It was not the most restful night. The miniature old man on the bunk below mine turned out to snore like a dragon, seeming to shake the entire room with the deep rumblings in his throat. My roommates tried everything to make him stop, but only succeeded in changing the snore to a higher pitch, this time with a cheery whistle refrain. My earplugs, which have served me well on other nights, were almost completely useless and all I could do was hope the old man´s walking pace was slower than mine so that this would be our last night in the same room.
posted by Dmitri Evseev at 7:34 PM
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