Villar de Mazarife

October 9

In Villar de Mazarife, we have a choice of several private albergues.  We pass by the first one, very close to entering town, opting for one off the main road, figuring it will be quieter.  Instead, it is crowded with a large group of noisy teenage boys.  We return to San Antonio de Pádua, where we find more of the pilgrims to be older and and more sedate.  They are lounging about the front yard, enjoying the afternoon sun, reading, sipping wine, or resting in some other fashion.  Rather than bothering to look for bars/restaurants for dinner and breakfast, we pay for our meals as well as beds at this albergue.

 

Outlets are at a premium here.  After I hand wash and hang some clothes, I sit on the floor in a hallway outside the kitchen and use my phone while it charges.  When I feel I've monopolized the outlet long enough, I go for a walk, hoping to find Jerri, who left earlier to wander.

It's a fairly small town, really just a village.  It doesn't take long to walk the circumference, finding bits of the old wall.  On the way back to the albergue, rain threatens again so I bring my damp clothes in and drape them wherever I can on my bed.

Dinner in Spain is usually served at 7:00 p.m. or later.  We're usually starving by then, having long earlier burned off any calories we've eaten for breakfast and lunch.  Most of the time, though, the meal is worth the wait.  Most places offer the menu del dia or a pilgrim menu (fewer, simpler, cheaper choices).  Both include firsts (appetizers), seconds (entrées), postres (desserts), bread, and drink (wine or water).  Tonight's meal is no exception.

We enter the dining room and the hostelier indicates that we can choose two places at the long center table or at one of several smaller tables.  I head for the seat with its back to the wood-burning stove in one corner.  Three young girls join us, one from Austria and two from Germany.  They all speak at least some English so we are able to have conversation.  Jerri notices we're all wearing some shade of pink shirt.

The chef gets good marks for presentation as well as quality.  Each dish is arranged artfully: salad with dressing drizzled over the greens and around the edge of the plate; gazpacho served in country crock bowls; paella gently piled; and a peach marmalade crêpe fashioned as a flower, a fan, or maybe a shell.  Whatever it is, it's pretty.  We go to bed well fueled for tomorrow.