Domus Dei

October 11

Domus Dei is an old building.  The dorm has 18 beds, the “kitchen" and reception desk are in the hallway between the dorm and the bathrooms/showers.  The dining room/common room is off the center of the hallway.

The dorm area is not heated (and for that matter, I'm not sure any part of the buiding is), but there is hot running water in the showers.  Lots of favorite mellow and Irish music is playing on someone's laptop.  It seems most of the other pilgrims are men, and Italian.  They all know Spanish, though, and it is the prevailing language of the evening.

Since it's raining in earnest now, I dispense with doing any laundry.  There's no way it will dry, even indoors.  And it's all I can do to keep my chattering teeth from rattling my brains.  The volunteer suggests I use a blanket, but the hostelier, Miguel...

...scolds me for having a blanket out of the dorm (of course, someone has to translate that for me).  One of the women offers me a fleece jacket to wear.  Now I feel doubly uncomfortable.

Miguel has a deformed hand. Two “fingers" form a kind of claw, which he is quite adept with.

The dinner and desayuno are included in the stay (by donation).  But they are no bargain.  Miguel makes spaghetti.  The Italians inform him when it's al dente (he's in the dining room, overseeing setting of the table; the rest of us are crowded in the “kitchen," where he has shooed us), but Miguel insists on cooking it longer. A friendly argument ensues in which the Italians assert that the Spanish may know meat, but Italians know pasta.  When Miguel decides the spaghetti is done, he moves the pot to a back burner, then he starts the sauce, which isn't enough for half the pasta he has made.

Thank goodness Jerri is bolder than I am.  When we see the huge portions Miguel is dishing up, she brings our bowls to him and insists on half the amount.

The pasta is mushy and has absorbed what little sauce there was.  After I finish my portion, I content myself with bread.  There is salad and then fruits for dessert, but I pass.  My stomach is much too stressed thinking about tomorrow.  Between the heavy rain and the anticipated ascent, I'm worried my feet won't handle it well.

After dinner, I begin to help with the dishes, but the little American volunteer rouses the men to do the cleanup.  With no motivation tonight to journal or blog, I turn in for the night and try to get whatever sleep I can.

Total distance walked:  27.2 km

Cat count:  94