76: Laredo

Matthieu parted ways with Lone and me. He was going to go look for a ferry on which he could cross the bay. It seemed like a sketchy proposition -- the guide book said that there was no schedule, just a man in a little boat whom you had to wave at and hope that he was looking your way.

Lone and I went to the tourist information center, which was still closed. I lay down on the grass to try to sleep, but it didn't take long until the information center opened. We went in and inquired about internet access and the local pilgrim shelter.

Internet access was free in a local cafe, but only if you bought something. And they only had one computer. Lone let me go first, and I wrote this blog entry and a few eMails. When I was finished, she was gone. I suddenly realized that I had taken a long time. I went to pay for my orange juice, but the waitress said that it had been paid for by the lady that had been sitting there.

Great, I thought. Not only did I rob Lone of her internet time, she also paid for my drink.

I sat down in a small park and wrote in my journal a bit while chewing on an apple. Then I went the remainder of the way to the next town where the pilgrim shelter was. Lone was already there. I showered, punctured my blisters, and went out again. There was a store and I bought bread, yoghurt, chocolate, tuna and an apple. These were rapidly becoming my staple foods. I walked to the seashore to find a good bench to sit on and eat.

My muscles and joints were so stiff and sore I could hardly walk. I looked like a cripple. I heard one woman say something to her child which sounded like, "watch out for that drunkard." I laughed inside.

I had expected to have a nice park bench picnic facing the sunset over the water, but I hadn't counted on the cold wind. It had been so warm all day. Now I was shivering, and couldn't really enjoy the view or the food.

Something's always imperfect, I thought.