I left the albergue in Sangüesa at 9 am on Monday 20 October. To be honest I hadn't had the most restful of nights. The Korean pilgrim had been no problem at all - she'd slept soundly all night without a murmur. However 2 Italians arrived late and, after some frenzied mobile phone calls, left in a taxi around midnight. One of them had been taken ill with food poisoning. I hoped I might then get a little sleep - but the church bells of Sangüesa tolled out every quarter, disturbing the slumber of even the weariest pilgrim. Then a Frenchman began a crescendo of snoring interspersed with an impressive, tonal display of flatulence as a kind of earthily musical counterpoint. And every so often a Belgian woke up screaming from bad dreams. By the morning I felt like I'd lived through a nightmare myself! So it was a tired and dejected Solitary Walker who left town that morning, heading for Monreal, almost 30 km away ...
I crossed the steel girder bridge over the river Aragón and had barely dragged myself more than a few 100 m when I realised I just couldn't walk any more that day. Anywhere. Or any distance. I felt exhausted. I was completely lacking in energy. Some muscles in my chest and shoulders were hurting like hell. Not to mention my feet. I retraced my steps and booked into the 1st hostal that I saw. And there I stayed all day - most of the time in bed, dozing and listlessly watching TV. I hardly ate as my appetite had all but vanished. But I did wander into town and force myself to take some photos ...
I found some grand houses, like the Vallesantoro mansion, with its impressive escutcheon over the doorway ...
... and some less grand houses ...
... and lots of convents and churches, such as the convent of San Francisco de Asis (reputedly founded by Saint Francis himself) ...
... and the church of Santa María de Real, with its superb, sculpted south portal ...
... and the church of Santiago ...
... with its Gothic sculpture of Saint James inside ...
... and polychrome sculpture of Saint James outside (note the scallop shells and the 2 flanking pilgrims) ...
Emboldened by my 1st roundabout photograph taken in Lescar, this small industrial-arty roundabout caught my eye ... though I don't think I'm quite yet sad, sorry, ready enough to join The Roundabout Appreciation Society ...
2 comments:
That is one sad roundabout - is there really a roundabout appreciation society or are you thinking of starting one?
Weaver - FOLLOW THAT LINK!!!
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