12/Agosto/2008 This was the script or iginario :
"Today I do not like your writing. leaving Leon if you follow this road you will arrive after forty-odd here. mesetas spoke ill of, at least there were no trucks. For Moreover, L ' albergue okay ... The country has a bar open only in the morning, no shops, nothing. are 11 km from civilization '. wait and see. "
A cool head and for the photos, something remains to be saved ... I leave
Leon in a rainy morning, map in hand I try the way in a city without arrows. I'm not the only and soon after I join other travelers lost until the 'beginning of the runway, then everyone has their own way. leaving the city is possibly the worst of their entry, they never end and you have way to go, there will be a welcome retreat waiting for you, you can only take it out of the way first, then maybe there will be heartened to campaigns and paths.
The road goes parallel to the road, traffic and straight. Not much to see, out of a house was a wicker basket clear, resting on a bench. Invited to make use of cookies and fruit in exchange for a message on booklet. Nice gesture, but I do not trust cookies too, go for a pear. Storks' nests on small terraces typical of the churches in these areas. I think I have attacked the monotony, the presence of asphalt and the noise of the cars was not a usual thing in the last two weeks, and today more than ever makes me weigh the path. Some countries breaks the stage, pictured below, a great medieval bridge above a small weighing and orderly, with albergue and everything you need ...
But I still missing a few kilometers to the goal, the lager, the comfortable dining in the shade of a pergola of vines, a little bar in the country ... view Continuation in
Starad, including asphalt and dirt, a roundabout and a country on the right. An abandoned house on the word "Albergue" me with the inevitable yellow arrows pointing the way for the shelter nearby. Santibanez greets me with a number of old houses but well-kept gardens with a variety of flowers, vegetables, Piata fruit. I savor the well-deserved refreshment. By nell'albergue, no, that the corridor on a garden shaded by trees widely apples, pears and who knows what else, all extraordinarily heavy with fruit. Does anyone speak Italian, the hospice is a "type out of the norm," a gentleman of Rome withdrew in the English countryside to manage the structure parrochhiale. After a brief discussion, informs me that in the country there is nothing, nothing means anything, just a "bar" only open in the morning so I have to say goodbye goodbye to my premium end of the leg.
I go out into the street and I see kids eating fruit out of the bar closed. I will ask them, I bring in an orchard where I use what I consume for lunch. On the back of a cyclist ask me about the next country,
0 comments:
Post a Comment