My Camino de Santiago ( Ghost town and Chicken dinners)

I woke up exhausted after starring in that classic film remake 'Sleepless in Azofra'. My lack of sleep  was brought on by the stomach bug that I picked up in Logrono, or was it last nights bottles of cheap vino collapso. Either way I didn't bother with breakfast so was marching on an empty stomach. Even in this state and carrying a full pack I was still managing to walk at a rate of one kilometre every twelve and a half minutes, not bad going for day nine. It's like they used to say in the Army it's a question of 'mind over matter' that is the Army doesn't mind and you don't matter, whatever, it certainly works.

It was raining all night so Henry and I were walking through red mud which clung to our boots making each step harder than it should have been. At about lunch time we came to a new urbanisation  on the outskirts of  the tiny village of Ciruena. The streets and houses were very neat and tidy and would have been an idyllic place to live, particularly if you played golf, as the estate was adjacent to an eighteen hole golf course.

Unfortunately the builders must have completed this project just as the global recession hit Spain because only one or two houses in each street were occupied the rest were boarded up and sporting 'For Sale' signs. Henry and I wandered through these streets together thinking that we had entered some sort post apocalyptic ghost town. The streets were eerily deserted with absolutely no sign of life, not even the warning bark of chained up dogs which we had grown accustomed to when walking into Spanish villages.

As we entered the old village we passed the albergue and commented that it looked really run down and decrepit. Later that day we bumped into a fellow peregrino who had spent the night there and she described it as an absolute hell hole. It was apparently freezing cold, there were no blankets, no facilities to cook a meal and the Hospitalero was very unfriendly bordering on hostile. She said that if it was not for some other really nice pilgrims arriving she would have walked out even though she was really tired and it was several kilometres to the next refuge.

We walked fifteen kilometres today to the town of Santo Domingo de la Calzada where we booked into the municipal albergue which was close to the Cathedral. After taking a shower and washing my clothes I was resting in the communal area when a few other peregrinos who we knew arrived, they included Lucy and Pablo who had travelled by bus as his injured leg was playing up a bit. That night we all shared a wonderful meal together washed down by wine, however I must be really feeling out of sorts because I only drank water.

The town of Santo domingo owes it's inspiration to Saint Dominic of the road who lived here in the eleventh century after being evicted from the monastery for being illiterate. Because of this he dedicated his life to improving the pilgrims route and was responsible for building many of the roads and bridges which we have travelled along. He built a pilgrims hospital which is now the Parador and also a church which over the centuries evolved into the Cathedral. Both buildings are situated in the historic town square the Plaza del Santo. I decided to visit the Cathedral which is another one of the iconic landmarks of the Camino Frances. The building and adjoining museum contain many beautiful religious artefacts but more importantly I wished to see the cockerel and hen which are kept in a coop in the rear of the church.

The chicken coop relates to the story of the cock which is one of the more endearing stories of the camino. Legend has it that during the middle ages a German couple on camino with their son stopped at a nearby inn for the night. The Inn keepers daughter apparently fell in love with the son who being devout, rejected her advances. So in a fit of anger she hid a silver goblet in his backpack then reported him for the theft. The innocent boy was hanged for this crime and his parents oblivious to his fate carried onto Santiago. On their way home they once again came to the town where they found their son still hanging on the gallows but miraculously still alive thanks to the intervention of Santo Domingo. The couple rushed to the sheriffs house and found him just about to tuck into a roast chicken dinner. They told him the news and he retorted that their son was no more alive than the chicken that he was about to eat. At this the cockerel came to life, stood up and crowed loudly. The sheriff was so impressed with this miracle that he had the boy cut down and given a full pardon.

In honour of Santo Domingo and the miracle of the cockerel our communal meal that evening was chicken. However in order to stop it jumping off of the plate and crowing loudly we cut it into pieces, coated it in flour and deep fried it and as they say in Kentucky it was finger licking good.