The woman at the Azofra Albergue seemed to scowl at me as I arrived. 'Put your boots here, come in, sit and wait,' she barked in Spanish, 'We are not open until noon!'
I meekly obeyed her orders.
While waiting (I was about 45 minutes early) the cleaning lady waltzed through the room, spraying the air with disinfectant. A big whiff and I was in a coughing fit.
I rushed back outside and leaned over the rail, holding my head in my hands. Each cough felt like a hatchet in my brain.
The Sergeant followed me out. 'What is wrong?' She touched my shoulder.
'I am so sick,' I told her.
She got hold of my elbow and steered me back inside, marching me to the nearest room, Número Zero. She pushed me down on the bed and covered me with a big wool blanket. She left the room, and returned with a second blanket, unfolding it and covering me.
'You wait! The doctor comes at 1 pm and he will give you medicine!'
'Ok,' I agreed, although I already have medicine. I wasn't going to argue. I was just happy to be warm
She never smiled.
But behind that gruff facade is yet another Camino Angel.
Today I took the bus from Navarette to Najera. Then I walked the 3 miles to Azofra. I have fond memories of this little village as you can find in a much earlier post.
Still weak from my flu, I will rest tonight then walk to Sto. Domingo del Calzada tomorrow.
The pilgrims seem to have thinned out.
Perhaps it is the weather.
I made a nice lunch then went back to bed.
Only two beds to a room at this Albergue. Pilgrim Heaven!