A rebel without a clue.

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 f...

Did my usual getting to know you in León central yesterday - it has a great labyrinth of tapas bars, méson restaurants bars and other human wonders, but was back before 4 to chill out: the final bar was the best serving cecina (smoked cured beef).  Slept a lot until the Canadian lady began her snoring festival alongside me. Oh the joys of communal albergues for the imperfect night's sleep you don't need for the day ahead. At three I was verging on screaming. But she did subside for a little while and I just awoke to find it's a quarter to 7 when breakfast is available here in the Saint Franciscan monastery; I just require coffee. Virtually two whole days to get to the path once more and is it ever worth it? I think so as I keep doing it looking for the elusive answer to my question. Why does everyone keep leaving so blasted early and why do all the twentysomethings keep looking for their 'mate' on this trial of penance? The Koreans are on a UNESCO walk and the young...