Bilbao, Espana
It is true, that old expression, "when it rains, it pours." After just five amazing days on the Camino del Norte to Santiago de Compostela, my journey hit a bump. Actually, it was more like a massive wall. I'm still processing the full ramifications of it.
The way that yesterday started gave no indication of the misery ahead. It was a gorgeous walk from the tiny pueblo of Meakaur to the beautiful metropolis of Bilbao. I walked in the company of a delightful Englishman who has spent the last nine years living and working in Barcelona. A good pacer and great company, Gary and I reached the albergue before it opened and checked in. I decided to head into town to check email and see the famous Guggenheim museum.
However, after two days of no internet, I arrived to discover that my wonderful feline companion of the last ten years, Don Gato, had taken a turn for the worst. He has been struggling with illness off and on for the last few months. But I was not expecting the end to arrive so soon. Don Gato woke up on Wednesday morning blind, unable to smell and hard of hearing. Not wanting him to suffer further from the almost certain strokes and/or seizures, the agonizing decision was made to euthanize him.
It is hard to write now...the feelings are so raw and unpredictable. Yet there was no inkling of what was to come this morning. I left the pilgrims' hostel and headed down the hill into Bilbao, intent on taking the alternate route through the city so that I could be alone and have the privacy of a still-sleeping city to cry before heading into the suburbs. I made it about 10km (or 6.4 miles) down the road when it happened. Stepping off the curb, I felt a sharp sting in my left Achilles. After a quick stretch and attempting another 10 minutes of walking, it was clear the pain wasn't going away.
I hobbled the three kilometers back into the main suburb of Portugalete and sat for a while. The pain was not releasing its grip. Emotionally exhausted and now physically hurt, I caved and took the metro back into Bilbao. I took the first hotel available for less than 100 euro and fell apart. Several hours, many tears, a shower and a half bottle of cheap red wine later, I feel human again. Not that I am ready to face the world...as much fun as it would be to taste local pinxtos or see the inside of the Guggenheim, I'm not ready. Not to mention that I want to walk as little as possible.
The day is almost over. Even the worst monsoon cannot last forever...the sun eventually comes out. It is a cliche I suppose, but I have to believe tomorrow will be better. A few days of rest for the Achilles and for my heart will do me well. At the very least, sleep will take care of tomorrow's supermercado vino souvenir.
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