The sky was dark and foreboding as we set off out of the tiny hamlet of Carrascalejo and made our way through the campo, rain-macs zipped up against the biting wind, 1km down the road to the small village of Aljucen. The dark clouds erupted and we dived in to the village bar, where it seemed all the municipal workers of the region were already seeking shelter, and ordered their finest tostados and cafe americanos. We nibbled our morning feasts slowly, not wanting to go back outside…. 19km of wet mud walk loomed ahead. Barbara fashioned some mittens out of socks and off we went, happy music downloaded especially to get our feet dancing through the rain.

We must have looked mad – plugged in to our Spotifys we all danced along to a different beat, headphones turned up to 11, singing loudly in the face of the lashing storms!

The grey farmland grew rockier and pretty flowers appeared, bunches of yellow and purple blooms, brightening the scenery and cheering our moods. The clouds were not welcome here! The sun made an appearance and we took our opportunity to eat our packed lunches -tuna pasta salad, sat around an ancient stone cross with a built in table ledge.

A few pilgrims passed us by, perhaps 3 or 4 over the day, and there were storks and hawks and cute yellow bellied birds and mini blue swoopers with falcon-like beaks… I must google them to see what they are…

But mainly there were cows! Massive, scary, protective, mother cows! I like seeing cows in the fields around us but there was a load of them stood around in the path ahead, and on the grass and rocks on either side. I tentatively approached, unsure whether they were bulls or not, but spotting they were all girl cows I felt quite relaxed and meandered through the herd, T & B just behind. We stopped to admire them and take some photos when suddenly the atmosphere changed. A fierce mother cow charged off to the side, pushing her calves ahead. She had clearly decided we were not to be trusted and all the others seemed to suddenly eye us with suspicion. The mood was threatening and we edged through the muscular beasts nervously. The next time we spotted more mamas and their babies we steered clear, abandoning the path and sticking close to the rocks or fences or trees, ready to climb or hide should a giant herbivore attack! Today is not my day to die cow!

At least we saw no wild boar. The mother boar is apparently extremely dangerous if you accidently get between her and her piglets. I read, although she has those massive, sharp tusks of death, her chosen method of attack is to bite, and continue attacking until the threat is lifeless and still! Now that is scary! I saw some boar heads proudly nailed to bars when I walked through Portugal, next to pictures of the village hunters, and these common, local beasts are HUGE, like bears! With bear ears and bear faces and pig eyes and pig noses and bear teeth and pig tusks…. pig bears…. terrifying…. and fucking massive!!!!! But, there were no boars today. Only scary cows.

Kelly’s guidebook told us that there were two albergues in the village of Alcuescar. The first was in a monastery, a donitivo called ‘Los Esclavos de Maria y los Pobres’ and offered basic bunks and a communal meal prepared by the monks. The second was a private albergue called ‘Casa Peregrina’ in the village, and cost 13 euros each. We had decided to give the monks a go but as we walked past the foreboding monastery Tom got the horrors, fearing a night with the monks would be just too far outside his comfort zone. Tom finds monks spooky, in the same way normal people might get scared if they saw a ghost! :)We went for a cana to do some more research on the two accommodations to inform our decision. We discovered that the monastery also ran a home for the elderly or adults needing care. The bunk-room in the photo looked a bit institutiony, and so, reminding ourselves that we were in fact on holiday, we decided to give the private place a go. It’s Facebook site showed cute rooms and a nice view from a terrace and said it was run by a pilgrim.

We headed in to town, using google maps to locate Casa Peregrina, but badly. We were lost and had to ask several locals the way. Eventually, we arrived at 32 Calle Fuente la Orden, a small town-house with no obvious signs to suggest inside was a hostel of any sort. We knocked on the shabby front door and heard a dog barking manically and footsteps on the stairs. A frumpy, lumpy woman opened the door, dressed in an old fashioned, shapeless pink garment, with a beaky nose, lank scraggly hair and starey eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. ‘Is this an albergue?’ we asked. ‘Yes, and I saw you, I told you…!’ she replied, in a reprimanding yet screechy German voice – an odd combination! Her name, it turned out, was Dorothea and she ranted that she had assumed we were French as ‘….all the French are rude…’ and ‘…we had ignored her!’ We had no recollection of this! 🙂 She didn’t seem an easy woman to ignore! It turned out she had been in a car and apparently shouted over to us that she had an albergue. Anyway, her abrupt manner and casual racism should perhaps have been a warning sign not to enter her house, but it was fairly late at this point, and we had walked a little way from the scary monks, who had probably already filled their lower beds, so in to the lair we went. The ‘albergue’ was up the stairs. She explained that she already had 5 people there and her son and his dog, but she could offer me a bunk in a room with 3 other pilgrims, and my folks could sleep on a sofa bed in the lounge. Okay we said, still on the stairs… Dorothea then spoke to her son and he offered to give up his room for T&B and have the sofa bed himself. As the mother and son duo prepared his room we were left in the living-room which housed the ‘sofa-bed’ and T&B realised what a lucky escape they had had. The ‘sofa-bed’ was more of a pile of soft things in the corner and the room was creepy and cluttered – the creepy eyes of antique dolls and stuffed toys followed you around the room, peering from behind their glass cabinet prison. The dog was smelly. The place was weird. And Dorothea was intense. She returned to the living-room and instructed the folks where to sit, insisting they perch on some grubby sheepskin covered armchairs they were afraid might have fleas or worse… She then came to find me in my room to tell me I should take my shower now. I of course obeyed. Dorothea is demanding and prescriptive! And slightly terrifying! The shower was the type you stand in the bath for, with a shower curtain. I didn’t attempt to wash my hair – I sensed this would be a bad place to flood the floor and didn’t want to take any chances. I imagined a lecture on bathroom respect, remembering Lydia and Tefalgate (Lydia may have been the evil twin of Dorothea – she ran an albergue on Ruta Vicentina – she’s in that blog!)

Tom and Barbara were to have their room to themselves, but ‘Please excuse the ‘products!’ and ‘Do not touch my things!’ 🙂 Dorothea made lotions and potions and had boxes stored everywhere and all around. Poor T&B were to snooze in a store room! I wasn’t much better off. I was in a cramped soulless room with 2 single beds and a bunk. Being the last to arrive, I had no option but to take the top bunk. With no safety bar or barrier I shifted a shelf unit near by to stop me falling to certain death in the night. There was no ladder either… Luckily, at the end of the bunk a small sofa had been squashed in to the already overly furnished room which I was able to climb and launch myself off and over the wooden end.

After showering I headed to see the folks and talk restaurants but Dorothea got between us and said she would talk to me just the two of us so T&B could have some time to get ready! Ha! Tom was sent to the shower, and Barbara to her room! Dorothea led me to the teeny hall at the top of the stairs and showed me a couple of restaurants on the map. She had offered to make us a meal (for a cost of course, I’m not sure how much, but our sub-standard beds had been our most expensive yet at 13 euros a head, and she charged 50 cents more than normal for a can of pop!) We had politely declined dinner, and she was not going to let me get away with this rude ‘snub!’:) I was reminded several times that she could have made me a lovely meal. She recommended some place where we could eat those beautiful happy forest pigs! And then tried to come with us! She said if we decided we wanted to eat there we should probably call her later when we were ready so she could come and help us! She was so insistent!

I got away from her and ducked in to my room. The guy sleeping under my bunk entered with a heater under his arm, looking most pleased with himself. The place was cold! He plugged it in and we all congratulated him on his scavenging in our various languages. Dorothea appeared and spoiled all the fun. She took the heater and passed it to me, telling me I must knock on the bathroom door and ‘… give it to your father.’ I explained that Tom wouldn’t need it, as much to defend his character in front of the other pilgrims, especially the one who had arrived back with the heater, as to ward off Dorothea, but she insisted she had asked Tom if he wanted the heater, and he had enthusiastically responded Yeeesss! (She managed to get this across with a strange impression of him! 🙂 I was certain my poor dad would be mortified to know the heater was being removed in his name and even more horrified to find it plugged in outside his precariously hung shower curtain! He survived the cows, the imaginary boars, and would now be electrocuted. I passed the heater to a confused looking Barbara I found in the hall! I was desperate to get a way from this needy woman and headed off alone, telling T&B to find me in the nearest bar!!!!

The town, or village, was a bit rough. Kids flew by doing wheelies on their mopeds and noisy roary voices boomed from crowded bars tough poky doors. Still, I was free! T&B were soon to join me and the wine tasted better than ever. We couldn’t find anywhere that looked nice to eat but eventually found a less raucous bar and settled for patatas con ali-oli and cheap burgers…. food for survival rather than pleasure. It was okay…. cheap….. We had some more wine till we felt ready to face returning to our albergue for the night, which as you can imagine, was a few!!! 🙂