Today we got off on the right foot. The reason: we woke up at 4 in the morning! What we still haven’t decided is whether it’s very sad or very lovely that we celebrate waking up at this hour. A month ago it would have seemed unthinkable to applaud on hearing that this would be our time to peel ourselves off the sheets… and here we are.
The stage went by quickly, thanks to a pace worthy of Melendi, “sin pausa pero sin prisa” (without pause, but without hurry), crossing the vineyards that saw Andrés Iniesta born.
Even so, as the end of the route drew near, stealthy as ninjas, all the men gathered at the rear and began plotting one of their schemes. The result of the scheming was that, as soon as we passed the sign marking the start of Fuentealbilla, twenty cavemen pounced on Xipi, the biggest Barça fan the seminary has ever seen, and lifted him onto their shoulders, chanting “La Roja Baila” at the tops of their voices.
Never before had there been a more epic entrance into any village in La Mancha. And we can’t overlook the fact that on a day like today, exactly 13 years ago, the number 8 scored the goal in the 116th minute that gave Spain its first World Cup. Once in the village, the men hurried to kiss the statue of the hero who took his first shots in these little streets.
After lunch, a shower and the appropriate rest, we went down to the village church. We had a not very peaceful Mass there, in which a bat unleashed chaos by landing in the middle of the choir, and an elderly local woman kept filming videos of the pilgrims singing while dazzling us with her torch. We’d like to think she didn’t know how to switch it off…
The meditation, on the other hand, focused on vocation, because in the pilgrim’s booklet we have reached the moment when Moses reaches the mountain and sees the burning bush. There he receives his vocation. We all have a vocation, and we mustn’t be afraid to talk about it. Because what matters is not what you do, but to whom you give yourself.
On the way out, we went to get dinner at a supermarket in the purest World War Z style. After this storming of the Bastille, we loaded up the provisions and had dinner, celebrating with ice cream and soft drinks Olga’s name day and the birthdays of Jaume and Fr Toni. The latter delighted us at the get-together with a dance that the people made him do by unanimous decision. It became clear that Fr Toni is still the ankle-breaker of the dance floor despite the passing of time.
That’s all for today, family. One more day, one day less. Have a good night!