Day 23: Frómista to Villarmentero de Campos
6:15 a.m.
“¡Buenas Dias! ¡Atrabajar!” The hospitalero yelled at the sleeping pilgrims and flicked on the lights. He narrowly avoided knocking over the white board posting a 7:30 a.m. checkout time.
Ugh.
Andrew and I planned a short walking day. We aimed for a “hippie” albergue about ten kilometres down the path, complete with a teepee and an all-natural laid-back Dutch hospitalero named Wilbert. Pueblo Villarmentero de Campos enjoyed more letters in its name than inhabitants. In fact, the hospitalero said only ten people resided there in winter. An architect, his wife, and three children made up half the winter population.
Andrew and I spied the teepee in the distance, and knew our long day of rest was about to begin. We entered grounds busy and colourful with geese, dogs, hens, hammocks, sleeping barrels, a teepee (that Canadians usually choose to sleep in), a garden, and potable water fountain. As we approached the bar, Mother Goose ran up behind me and bit the back of my leg. Nothing personal. I don’t think she liked my Macabi skirt billowing in the wind. 
Wilbert was told of our arrival, and he told us to relax and enjoy ourselves. No hurry. When we were ready to check in, we’d find him “playing in the garden.”
I stayed in the hammock for hours. Feet up. Truly what the doctor ordered for my swelled ankles and knees. I laughed quietly as hammock newbies fell onto the dirt ground. I also kept an eye open for Ma Goose. Were my feet dangling from the hammock fair game?
People lived at Albergue Amanecer, and added to the ethnic diversity. Vishnu, a beautiful macrame artist from Nepal, sold her art to pilgrims to save for a house. Her husband, Javier, painted beautiful designs on rocks, and practised Reiki. I should have purchased a rock, but I must carry what I buy along the Camino. I couldn’t justify the added weight. Vishnu and Javier spoke of the joys and difficulties of living as artists. Their son and daughter played in the yard amongst the hammocks and fowl. It was a humble, creative life, and they were happy.
Later that evening, we enjoyed a communal meal of delicious pasta, cole slaw with tuna, bread, melon and watermelon. We ate inside, but then retired to the covered porch where locals gathered to drink, smoke, talk, and play cards while relaxing in the joined seats of an old movie theatre. The cooler than usual night determined our sleeping arrangements. Bunks in a dorm for me. The hammock or teepee will wait for another Camino.
Wilbert is a 1956 baby. He pulled out his iphone, connected it via bluetooth to a tabletop speaker, (he asked his pueblo guests their permission), and played Leonard Cohen tunes. He also listened to music from Neil Young’s After the Gold Rush.
Wilbert excused himself for bed around 11:00 p.m. He had to get up at 4:00 a.m. to make bread for the early risers, but he invited us to sleep long, stay longer. 
I pulled my scarf across my shoulders under that cloudy, black Meseta sky, and tried to remember a more beautiful night.

Namaste and ¡Ultreia!
~Penny
*****

WILBERT walked the Camino de Santiago when he happened upon the albergue he currently cares for. The funky albergue needed a hospitalero; he answered the call. After a lifetime of answering different calls…working with kids on the street and in hospices throughout Holland and Israel…he now tends to the needs of pilgrim spirits and bodies. 
Wilbert tells the story of a Benedictine monk who looked for more floors to clean once he’d finished cleaning his last floor. Following in the Benedictine footsteps of service, Wilbert plays in his garden, tends to his pilgrim flock, and is the soul of Albergue Amanecer.