October 5, 2001
Azofra- Redecilla
Part Two

In Granon we head straight to the refugio, which is in the bell tower of the church and run by the parish priest. It is a very cosy place with a sleeping loft for pilgrims that has mattresses lined up on the floor along both walls. When we arrive we are served a bowl of thick potato soup and a loaf of bread. We eat at a table that has four other people already sitting at it. They seem to be local people and are all men, one of them is the priest. At first I concentrate on the food but after my belly is full I begin to focus on the other people at the table. They are having a conversation in Spanish, which I cannot follow, and after a while I get bored. T has joined the conversation and tells us it is about religion. She is very excited about the discussion and tell us there will be a special Mass at 500P. B and J are also left out of the conversation and after a while J ask me and B if we want to go for a walk. B shakes her head, Id I nod, J and I then excuse ourselves and leave. On the way out we thank the man in the kitchen who has served us our meal. We walk to a bar nearby, order Cokes, and sit drinking them at a table outside in the sun. J says he had to get out of the church because it was beginning to feel oppressive to him. I agree with him and tell him I think T wants to spend the night here but that I don't. As we are talking B walks up and joins us saying she had enough and was not comfortable there either. I don't know what the problem is but none of us feel at ease in the refugio. After we get back to the church we tell T we are ready to get going. She says she does want to stay here and attended Mass so we say goodby and leave without her, sure she will catch up with us down the road.

In Redecilla the refugio is over a bar and opposite the town church. We get there late in the afternoon and since most pilgrims stop in Granon or Belorado, the three of us find ourselves in a room that sleeps 16. On the walls are tourist posters of Spain and when I first sit on my bunk I find myself facing a poster that has a picture of my dog (same breed) on it. As I stare at it I am overcome with a feeling of homesickness.

Later when we ask about a restaurant for our evening meal we learn that the only place is on the highway. And when they say "on the highway" they mean "on the highway". The highway is a two-lane road and it is also the main truck route for this area. The restaurant is a square shaped cinder block building set about three feet from the edge of the road. To enter the building we have to walk on a sixteen-inch wide sidewalk with a waist high railing made out of two-inch plumbing pipe as the only thing between us and highway. When we are on this walkway a huge truck going at least 60mph roars by us. If I had put my arm out I would have lost it at the shoulder.

When we get inside, we see the building is one large room. Across the back is a counter with four bar stools sitting in front of it. Between us and the bar are four tables, two on each side of the room. All the windows are open and every time a truck roars by it drowns out any sound made inside the building and creates a strong gust of wind that blasts in one window, across the room and out another. There is a very drunk man standing at the bar and a very old man sitting at one of the tables. At first we are not sure if we can get any food because this looks very much like a bar and not at all like a restaurant. We go up to the counter and ask the woman behind it, in very poor Spanish, whether we can get any hot food. Yes, we can have_____. We are not sure what _____ is, but B thinks it is some type of potato dish. Since there is no other choice we accept what is offered to us.

We go sit at a table and the woman comes over and lays a sheet of white butcher paper over the table top as a tablecloth. She then brings bread, water, napkins, knives, and forks. The next time she comes to our table it is to bring three plates of food. When she sets my plate in front of me I see French fries and a piece of meat cut very thin and wide like a fish fillet. I am not sure what to make of this when the smell of the meat hits my nose. The aroma is heavenly. I take a bite and taste garlic; this is wonderful. I eat a fry and it is one of the best fries I have ever tried. Golden on the outside and cooked the way fries and spaghetti should be; al dente- slightly chewy with a little resistance when you first bite into it. B and J admit that they both were a little leery of this meal too. We are beginning to learn that on this walk, there are tiny miracles where and when you least expect them.