Day 35: Gonzor to Casa Nova
“I know you’re suffering. We have extra days, so let’s make this a short day.” Famous. Last. Words.
There are no short days when you travel with all of Spain along the Camino, and they get to the albergues first…because they started two days ago, while you’ve walked for five weeks and hundreds of kilometres. No, I’m not bitter. Frustrated, maybe. I understand how it happens. I just wish there was some way to accommodate those of us who have done the distance and look and smell like we’ve done the distance. 🙂 But there isn’t.
Andrew quit blogging tonight because he sounded negative, and he did not want to sound cranky.
We headed out on a positive note with the Spanish conga line. I continue to be impressed by families with small children as young as six who choose to put in 115 kilometres…and call that a vacation. Twin boys with Spiderman backpacks passed us. They were six-years old, and walked better than I did. (Okay, I am a bit jealous.) Maybe those six-year-olds will grow into long-haulers.  
We aimed for Palas de Rei. It was a stop for us in 2013, where we enjoyed a nice albergue and meal. This night, in that albergue, we could have taken two beds in separate rooms. Not a problem for us. We sleep in bunk beds anyway. However, because my ankle/knee issues are so severe, and moving in the morning is difficult after everything seizes during the night, Andrew preferred to stay in a room with me to help me prepare in the morning. Honestly, you would not believe the extra time it takes to bandage my foot, rub down my knee, and swallow a small farmacia of drugs at six a.m. in the freaking dark.
BIG MISTAKE!
Next shitty albergue had a small room with three beds and no private bath for 40 Euros! WTF! 

Next city, next albergue. Completo.

Next city, next albergue. Completo.
Next city, next albergue, twelve hours walking, 24 kilometres of injuries…the last two beds in Casa Nova.
I was tearful as Andrew went ahead to check on bed availability. Across the street, a French peregrino who remembered me from Cacabelos, was in shock that I still walked, and pointed out the albergue with the (possible) two beds. An old lady called for her missing pooch. I saw the dog running towards her, but she didn’t see it, so we had a strange moment when I motioned to her dog, yelling “Esta aqui, esta aqui!” and she thought I mean the albergue. 
She, it turned out, was the hospitalera. So, a good deed, turned into another good deed.
The woman allowed me my hiking poles to climb the many steps, gave us the last two beds, and asked/demanded a young short-hauler to give up her bottom bunk for me. 
Now, the top bunks in Casa Nova were fairly low, so I figured Andrew could shove my ass up. The hospitalera never gave him a chance. After ordering poor Rachela out of her bed, she started removing Rachela’s things and tossing them onto the top bunk that was supposed to be mine. I stood mortified and protesting, but Rachela came over and wrapped her arms around my shoulders while I sobbed with embarrassment and relief. I did not want her to think this was my plan, and she did understand. “I would have done it anyway,” she said. “You are injured. No one had to ask me.”

I gratefully crawled into my lower bunk at 7:30 p.m. with a much different feeling toward short-haulers, and slept immediately.
¡Ultreia!
~Penny