Into Segovia

And so for the next four days I walked to Segovia, through the shade of woods where the trees were tapped. The towns were bigger now but people stared just as much. Mostly I ate tortilla and Madeline cakes and I had the albergues to myself. One night in Coca I made the mistake of eating at a proper mans bar. They stared and stared at me and I could feel myself blushing and getting angry because I felt like an alien. As I walked back to the albergue I felt like I was being followed but convinced myself I was being paranoid. And then, from the end of the road, I saw a light in my bedroom turn out. I was suddenly gripped with panic; everyone knew I was staying in there alone and some pervert had broken in. I creeped down the street, sure that if I took the fucker by surprise I'd take him down. However my clenched fists turned limp as the front door opened and a big breasted silhouette with hair curlers called out to me 'Anna, Anna!'. The lady who had given me the keys that afternoon beamed at me kindly and I collapsed into her squat figure as my adrenaline left me. She'd pulled down all the shutters and waited as I brushed my teeth so that she could physically tuck me into bed. 'Los hombres' she muttered and plumped my pillow and stroked my head. 

A day or so before I arrived in Segovia I started to get a really bad stomach which may have had something to do with warm yoghurt. I'll spare you most of the details, but on my last days walk I forgot toilet paper when, trust me, I really needed toilet paper, and I only had pine cones to hand. Uncomfortable. 

The city was beautiful and even in my state of nauseous fatigue it made me smile. I stood under the aqua duct that Laurie lee's farmer had driven his cart over and saw that not only was it very narrow, but also very high. It must have been a uncharacteristically subdued ass to have been persuaded to trot along that. I didn't know where I was staying but found a hostal right next to the aqueduct which had a nice colour scheme and indoor plants and a receptionist called Blanca who played the accordion. I crawled into bed and started sobbing because everything hurt but then I fell asleep for five hours and woke up with a delirious fever that scrambled all my nerves and left me in a pain free trance. 

That evening I went out with Kevin and Nicky for dinner. Kevin was a friendly Californian who worked in the emergency department of a hospital and enjoyed travelling in Europe when he could. Nicky was a art history student from Belgium who slunk around in all-black and saw travelling around beautiful places as a necessity to succeed at studying. At first we went to the first Indian restaurant in Segovia which wasn't very good and reawakened the beasty in my stomach so that I had to march around some of the sights and breath the evening air to stop myself from squealing from gut rot. Later we went for drinks and then wandered back to the hostel, my g&t having alliviated all my woes and I was enthused with the world once more. When Nicky and I arrived in our room Nicky fell in a large puddle of water which was coming from the leaking water bottle inside my bag. In my merry helpfulness I threw my microfiber towel (which doesn't even dry one of my legs let alone half a litre of water) down on the puddle and trod all over it with my muddy trainers. And so I went to bed, with all my belongings soaking wet and my fever returned with a vengeance.