Days 19 and 20: Rábe de las Calzadas to Hontanas/Recovery day in Hontanas
Andrew and I left the little pilgrim hospital in Rábe de las Calzadas in the quiet of the morning, and made slow time up gentle hills, across dirt paths and farmers’ access roads loaded with stones and rocks. The sky was blue and beautiful.
Limping is my defining characteristic. After adjusting my gait to accommodate a sore ankle I left home with, I developed a sick blister on the outside of my left foot, and major tenderness in my right knee. The day was marked by several old people reminding me that I’d never make it to Santiago on “that” foot.
I looked ahead to putting my feet in the healing spring waters at San Bol. However, when we arrived, many pilgrims gathered around the fast moving waters, and I chose to keep my disgusting feet out of their water. I slept in the healing shade of the woods for an hour.
When I’m afraid or staring disappointment and defeat in the eyes, I look for “signs” to keep me motivated. Often on the way to Hontanas, butterflies clustered around me, occasionally landing on my long sleeves. I swear it’s the light coloured shirt, but I interpreted this as a good reason to keep my spirit light. I’d been moving forward on orthopaedic flip flops, as my feet no longer fit into my Keens. (Yes, my feet and ankles are that swollen.) They are comfy, but the larger rocks stab through the soles. By the time I reached Hontanas, my feet, shins, knees, and ankles had been pulverized by the Camino. What’s more, the blister wrapped around the underside of my foot, and I’d done some tissue damage. Spending the two nights in Hontanas was a no-brainer.
One of the wonderful things about spending slow, quality time in a foreign land is seeing real life unfold amongst the locals. I was fortunate to experience this in India, and in Hontanas, we had local life at its finest.
Hontanas, with a population of 70, is small. There are a few pilgrim albergues, but not much to do outside of the albergue. Andrew and I climbed hard steps to a terrace enjoyed by the locals. Pilgrims were absent here, perhaps feeling out of place or just enjoying the stream of pilgrims passing out front the albegue. A group of men gambled on a “toss” game called La Rana (The Frog). Six men threw small metal disks into an open-mouthed metal frog mounted on a small table the size of an elementary school child’s desk. It’s difficult to explain, but google La Rana, and you will see various configurations of this game.
The men laughed and shouted, the women watched and encouraged, and a young girl kept running in the path of the rebounding disks. I believe they were playing for a bottle of wine…in Spain, this is a token prize. Wine is deliciously cheap.
I enjoyed watching their game, as well as the camaraderie amongst the locals. At the same time, Andrew and I played backgammon on his ipad. I suddenly felt a bit out of place with my ipad among a gathering of friends enjoying a game of toss. (To be fair, backgammon is an old game, too!) After kicking Andrew’s ass at backgammon, he called up Snakes and Ladders on his ipad. We’ve been enjoying old-fashioned S&L since Two Chicks at Sauble Beach last summer; still, for a moment, I felt foolish playing S&L surrounded by grown men. The feeling didn’t last long. A lively grandfather in the group scored a perfect shot, lobbing his disk into the frog’s throat. People jumped, cheered, and clapped each other on the shoulders in congratulations.

“You still feel stupid?” Andrew asked.
“A little. Why?”
“We’re playing a child’s game, and they’re betting on one. I’d say we’re even.”
We stayed in Hontanas all the next day and one more night. La Rana sat still in a corner on the back terrace. We played S&L, Backgammon, and tended to blisters. Another two days down along the Camino.
¡Ultreia!
~Penny