I am Jennifer Lopez

I met him in the bar last night; my chauffeur to Tabara. I was told he is an ex-police officer; the man in the blue shirt. I introduced myself. His friend who can speak a bit of English did all the talking. (This English consisted of 'you are Jennifer Lopez' delivered with a big smile and lifted eyebrows). The man in the blue shirt nods along; when he smiles he reveals an almost toothless grin. I didn't understand anything other than the line about Jennifer Lopez that is thrown in randomly between sentences. I think we are meeting at the bar this morning at 10 a.m. Or it might be 10 p.m. tonight. Time will reveal my understanding of the transaction made with the man in the blue shirt.

I have my legs elevated, resting, waiting. I saw Stacy, F (from South Africa) and M (from France) off early this morning. I can't walk today. The past two days I have been taking 600mg pills of ibuprofen, every 2 to 3 hours, and it is only dulling the pain. I've had shin splints before but this feels different. My leg is swollen and hot. Time to rest.

We reunited with F just past Salamanca and have laughed with her as we walked the past 120km. M has been nursing an injured foot. We haven't seen her since before Merida. We reunited with her yesterday in Granja de Morerela. As we walked to the bar attached to the albergue, we could hear Spanish words spoken with her distinct French accent and we ran in to greet her. So wonderful to be together again.

Except, of course, I won't walk today. Instead I will go to Tabara (I hope that's where the man in the blue shirt is taking me) rest and then prepare dinner for my friends who will walk the 32 km from Garanja to Tabara.

Today the road splits. If you walk to the right you join the camino Francese. We are staying to the left, continuing along the Via del la Plata.

As I look at my elevated leg I remember a phone call I received a few years ago. R, the mother of several handsome boys, had taken in A as a foster daughter. 'A' wanted to shave her legs but R, who is very fair in complexion, has never had to shave her legs and said she didn't know how. 'Can you explain to me Juli? I've noticed you are very hairy'.
I managed to keep my control just long enough to finish the phone call and then collapsed with laughter. As I look at my legs now I realize I could use some lessons in how to shave when you're sharing a bathroom with several people. Time, hot water, sticky moldy shower curtains all being a factor.

Hygiene standards fall under primitive circumstances. A washing machine is a luxury, and while one occasionally appears we usually wash our clothing in a sink. Hence they are never completely clean.

Tuesday I discovered real laundry soap at the albergue in Montamarta so I threw caution to the wind and washed all 4 pairs of my socks. Mistake! In the morning they were still wet. But, miracle of miracles (if you had seen this albergue you would understand how true the use of 'miracle' is in this instance), there was a microwave. Medium setting for 30 seconds at a time. Voila. Dry (and warm) pair of socks.

Back at the bar I am still waiting. Perhaps it is 10 p.m. that my ride will come? Me, Jennifer Lopez, and the man in the blue shirt.
If I make it to Tabara, I will return and report.

(Sevilla to Granja de Moreruela, 620.7 km...only 386.3 to Santiago!)