Day 7: Merkina-Xemein to Albergue Gerekiz (21,9k)
- Frida Stavenow
- Sep 16, 2022
- 4 min read
The big talkie in the morning is obviously how to bypass Gernika, aka the Camino Accommodation Black Hole. I’ve called up every hostel in the guidebook and finally found three beds for us at an albergue 7,7k after Gernika. But that means a 33k day, which none of us are ready for, so we’re thinking about options. In the end, Gertrude decides to take the bus the whole way to Gernika, as her feet are in a state. Me and Lucia decide to walk past the monastery we didn’t make it to the day before, then on to Munitibar, where we will break Camino Protocol and take a bus to Gernika and then walk the remaining 7,7k. It’s not kosher but we see no other way of avoiding paying €120 for a private room we don’t want, and it will still mean an over-20k day.
With Lucia I have a breakfast of toast with butter and jam and five cups of milky coffee, then set off for the monastery. We discuss love, what is it, why do we think the way we think about it. After about an hour, we come upon three wild-camping Germans we met before and the 23 year old model I met in San Sebastián, the one who invited me to watch the sunset when all I wanted to do was lie in bed and feel sorry for myself. They’ve slept in hammocks over a river and tell us about a “paradise place” for swimming, so we go there, and are amazed to find a shady clearing where the river runs just deep enough to form a perfect pool. The water is surprisingly cold, but on a day when temperatures are already reaching thirty at ten in the morning, we don’t complain. And sure enough, after just another ten minutes of continuing up the rocky path in the scorching sun, we are completely dry and have forgotten all what cold is.
We pass the monastery, have a beer, see some monks, walk and talk. Things get deep. Friendships really do form quickly on the Camino. I don’t even want me time! Also, Lucia is a member of the club of excellent humans who can hang out in silence. So we walk happily side by side to Munitibar, where we catch a ride with an insane Spanish bus lady. Guess who’s on it? Gertrude! We have a picnic in a park in Gernika, take a photo of the closed Peace Museum and walk on. We call up the albergue to book dinner, but the hospitalera says we can only have pork and that making salads is “too much work,” so we carry with us food for dinner.
It’s hot. It’s dry. Outside a pharmacy, a sign says 39°C. But Lucia and I are still chatting, picking figs, taking it step by step.
Suddenly, I see horses – and not just any horses. The adorable, fluffy black ponies hanging out on the picturesque green hill in front of us are Pottokas, the same Basque breed Lucy Rees studies, and they turn out to belong to a gorgeous stone building surrounded by fruit trees, vegetable patches, lush green bushes and all our favourite pilgrims from the Camino so far. Surely, this must be our albergue!? But no. Caserio Pozueta, located about 2k before the albergue I’ve booked, totally flew under my radar as I scoured three Camino apps for two hours the day before. Now they’re full. With my heart like a stone, I walk away from Paradise on Earth, thinking that maybe there will be an obvious reason when we get to our albergue why I completely missed such an incredible place.
Not our hostel
We arrive, and I struggle. The owner is weirdly rude, there’s no space to hang your clothes, and the “garden” is an asphalted parking lot. I sit down at a table and try to stop myself from looking at the photos of Caserio Pozueta’s MUESLI BREAKFAST. What’s more, our bus cheat has got us way ahead of all our friends, and the people at this albergue don’t seem nice at all. The table next to me, for example, is full of people my age who don’t make eye contact and seem obsessed with how this blond guy in a tank top got into Berghain. Vom. I stare the other way until Gertrude and Lucia come out, eat quick, and excuse myself to go to bed.
But I’m too pissed off to sleep. My legs hurt. My back hurts. I am haunted by images of muesli I will never have.
Luckily, I have weed. So I get ready for bed and then head back out onto the terrace to smoke, and everything changes. I sit down at the table with Lucia and tell her my plans. As if summoned, Guy Who Got Into Berghain (heretoforth GIB) shows up. His opening line: “Oh hey. Would you guys like an edible? They’re from California.”
Long story short (!!), we are now best friends and starting a Mushroom Enthusiasts of the Camino WhatsApp group. He was fucking great and I can’t wait to talk more to him. We went to the same uni! San Francisco State. He still lives over there so is also fluent in all things microdosing and psychonautism and shamanism. He asked my pronouns! Trust me, that’s a first on the Camino. It felt a bit like coming home. Also, when I explained that weed turns me into a hilarious genius (example: Gertrude tried to explain the name of the mushroom that grows in her garden in English, and came up with “Pointy Cone Ball Head,” which I therefore decided was her Camino name), the others made “umm I don’t know” faces but he said “I concur to her genius,” soooooo he’s staying.
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