A man cannot live by stale bread alone, alone, so I stopped for tripe and chickpeas in a picante pimiento sauce at the only bar betwixt there, here and beyond. With a slice of bread and glass of white wine in my gut I continued through the relentlessly straight way ahead: Meseta, but I can see mountains ahead so the end of Meseta is not far off now. On the plus side the maize in the neverending plantation is ready for harvest ... I've now two cobs in the pocket which replaces the bread I ate between somewhere, nowhere and anywhere else: now all I need is a pan to boil its golden nuggets turning them into nourishment...
Another day I guess as the medieval bridge finally presented itself, but the Parroquial albergue was cerrado which means I wondered lonely as a cloud until I could ask anyone where might I sleep this evening: I am very weary after the unending Macadam bashing after the garbanzos y callos: a bed for €13 at Albergue La Encina at the end of the first day of the second part of my final Camino.
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