Day 25: The woven of stories

Dear traveler, 

I was awaken by the sweet scent of freshly baked pies that our hosts were preparing for the pilgrims.

Well, if it smells like this, I'm the first one to get up. Watch out, here I come. 

It's just me and the dog that are lurking around the kitchen. Besides us, the others are too busy preparing for a new day.

I'm glad, more for me then. 

These people are way too nice so we linger a bit for some chit chat, but soon we'll have to be on our way. 

Backpack on, checked.

Off on the road, checked.

Morning picture with the three of us, checked.

A group of people that just got their noses out of a map and are now staring at us, checked.

Wait, what?

-"Good morning! We're going to ask you a quite a strange question, but, do you know Berndt?", one of the ladies asks us. 

-"Berndt from Arendal?"

-"Precisely!"

-"Yes, we do know each other."

The entire group goes "ohhh" altogether. The same lady tells us that they are friends with Berndt and that he told them the story of a family with an energized little girl that walks the Camino during this time of year.

-"How wonderful it is to meet you guys. Berndt will be so happy when we tell him about it!"

-"We're happy to meet you too, friends of Berndt. Buen Camino!"

Hah! This world is so small. Except when I have to climb some slopes, then it's not small at all.

But, since we climbed this mountain yesterday..what do you think is next? 

To descend it, of course.

The trail takes us mostly on the asphalt and without noticing, we're getting closer and closer to the mountain's feet.

And these feet are full of poppies, sprinkled everywhere like the salt from the salt shaker on my french fries. Yes, I love salt. And poppies. 

We enter a small town and the river that crosses it, invites us to take a break.

-"Hey, Mamarmot, this stone bridge was that bridge labyrinth on the wall. I tell you for sure!"

-"Yes, Mamarmot! And we'll be finding one more today. A bridge that gave the name of the city it's located in. Ponferrada. Pons ferrada. That means, the iron bridge in latin."

Aaaa. Very nice.

We move further and we find ourselves most likely on Spain's narrowest street. Then, in a store with many colored and sweet things. Yes, it's on my "stuff that I like" list.

Step by step we reach the city Mamarmot was telling me about. Ponferrada.

So far, I did not see any bridge. But something else sparked my interest. I see many images of a castle. Is there really a castle here?

-"Yes, Marmot, apparently there is a templar knights castle. Let's visit it!"

We didn't have to search for too long as the Camino always makes sure we walk through all the important places in a city. That and, oh well..it's quite hard to miss a castle that big.

Unfortunately though, the gate is closed and my folks are figuring out the message written on the door that this castle is closed for the public on Mondays. 

I don't get it. The templars are not templars anymore on Mondays? Do they clean up the castle? How about when the enemy appeared at the gate, how was that like? "Today this castle isn't getting attacked, because it's Monday. Come back tomorrow, please."

Ohhhh, I really was curious.

-"Come on, Marmot, don't sulk over this. This is how it's like on Mondays, nobody's in the mood for anything."

Okay, okay. 

On a pub across the street, we sit for a while to contemplate it a bit more.

It's really amazing.

Something to drink and a small snack give me the energy I need to move forward.

Dad tells me again about the Templar Knights Order and I remember places I've seen last time on the Camino.

Caught in the story, we reach the small city we'll be sleeping in, without even noticing. 

I only need a hearty dinner, a short walk through the surroundings and a few card games to realize that I'm sleeping.

In my sleeping bag, I think about today's adventures. Some things seem to repeat themselves, in a different shape.

It seems that now, all that I've seen throughout the time, is merging like a quilt with many colored patches. Every patch has a story, and every story, bares the mark of the one before. Does that make sense? 

Maybe for you, traveler, it doesn't. Not now. For me, that colored quilt with 24 patches, is a quilt that's only getting bigger and bigger. This woven of stories goes beyond time and space. I think I heard that in a movie, or maybe, read it in Mamarmot's notes, but it's fine if I borrow it.

I close my eyes and think about how today's patch would look like. Blue, with a castle, with friends of friends and full of surprises.