I’m checking my iPhone mile counter and it says I have walked 7.7 (almost 8) miles today. Only 7.7?!! 4 of that was down a very treacherous descent from my lodging. Oh well. It sure feels like more.
Last night: You never know, when you book in bunks who will be sharing your room. In my case: 2 men from Germany and a young man from Holland.
I still wasn’t feeling well last night, so was unable to enjoy the wild boar (seriously) meat goulash served with fries that the host fed us. The young (20 yr old) Dutch man said, “I can help you eat!” So he ate his and my wild boar and dessert (flan). The host brewed some chamomile tea for me, and I hit the sack. I’m better today.
I set out at 7:30 with the roosters crowing and milk cows with their bells ringing as they pulled on the grasses.I had to walk a very steep trail down. It turned out to be like a 4-wheeler (ATV) trail with loose rocks. I stopped to take a picture of where I was headed:
after an hour or so, I stopped at a truck stop to order breakfast. The waitresses were so rude it was hysterical–didn’t offend me at all. They were rude to everyone, so…
I loved the animals in the fields:
and one sheep dog sat with his back to the sheep acting like he’d love to join me. He was so big and handsome.
As I walked further into the valley, I took shots of places to stay (in case I’m ever back this way).
At this bakery, a professional photographer was taking pictures of the establishment. I walked past and he screeched and grabbed me. I jerked away and backed up. Somebody said, “No, no senora, he only loves your backpack and wants to take a photo. I obliged, turning my back while he snapped away. I told the translator to tell him that the woman on my pack was my mother, now gone. He was very emotional then.
As I walked away, I said out loud, “Well Momma, you got your picture taken. He thought you were beautiful.” It made me happy.
Now I am safely tucked into a beautiful little place at the foot of the mountain I must climb tomorrow. I think I’ll have spaghetti tonight.