A new awakening, a new adventure. The speed with which people woke up was matched by the speed with which the unofficial mattress collection team, made up of Edurne Lejarcegui, Luis Jaureguizar and María Salvador, packed our beds into their boxes.
Today’s first highlight goes to Beto Gel, who, after rummaging through his rucksack (which, it seems, is more unkempt than Hagrid’s beard), found a banana in it. Well, at least it was one at the time, when he forgot it 3 weeks ago in the depths of the bag. Now all that was left was a slimy black mass, a shaky rendition of what Venom would be in a B-movie.
The stage was made more enjoyable by our drone, piloted by a happy Marc León, taking shots during the rosary to leave a record for posterity. Later on, the Rolling Smokes took to the stage again to cheer up the newcomers during the walk. When we arrived, that group had to make a pit stop to repair tyres and, rather than a first-aid kit, it looked like a field hospital in the trenches. Even so, the new ones are still smiling and keen to reach Portugal tomorrow.
The welcome in Badajoz was more epic than Cleopatra’s arrival in Rome: we went to celebrate Mass at the oratory of the Little Sisters of the Abandoned Elderly in Badajoz, and there the nuns and the residents had decorated the entrance and the church for us with more detail than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. You could feel the love in every balloon.
After the Eucharist (during which a little grandmother had technical problems switching off her phone camera), we spent some time with all the elderly residents and with some sisters who were more up for a party than the ones in Sister Act, and there were quite a few memorable moments.
A long, but not complete, list includes a good man who insisted tooth and nail that Clara Crespo was Latin American, Santi Salvador singing his lungs out to the Mary Poppins smash hit, Miguel del Pozo mistaking an 85-year-old priest for a parishioner, Kyril dancing more intensely than Michael Jackson, Júlia Ramió being amazed that a resident had won the Peine de Oro at 15 (I’m not quite sure she knows what it is) and Tato Salvador making friends with a veteran of the Paratroopers Brigade.
After sharing songs, laughter and a few ice creams, we went back to the sports centre, where what we thought was a gastronomic mirage was waiting for us. But it was real. Nacho Campmany’s dream turned out to be prophetic and we were able to enjoy Domino’s pizzas (sponsored by Chollometro). And yes, we can say without any shame that our mouths watered more than any of Pavlov’s dogs.
That’s it for today’s agenda. See you, family; tomorrow we’ll write to you from the other side of the border.