"12th stage": Santiago de Compostella - Léon - Halle (Saale) (2300 km)

My train back to Léon went at 9 o'clock in the morning, so I had to get up very early. I awakened Fran to say goodbye and promised to visit him as I would be in Spain for the next time. Being the only one, who took the bus that early, I got to the station and the train without any problems. In view of the fact that I had slept only 4 hours and would drive another 2000 km back to Germany by car I've tried to sleep as much as possible during the train ride. In times being awake I enjoyed the Spanish landscape once more and couldn't believe that I had been walking this all by my feet. After 5 hours I arrived Léon again and set out for the pilgrim's hostel to get to my car. For a couple of days I had imagined, how it's gonna be, if my car would't be where I left it. If someone had stolen it or if it had been towed away. As I turned the corner to the street in question, I couldn't believe my eyes. My car was...gone! I was completely confused and didn't know what to do first in this situation. The woman in the pilgrim's hostel told me I had to go to the police, which was a very clever advise. ;-) The police was situated directly opposite of where I left my car. The first policeman didn't understand any English language, as a commissar came along to help me out. He called a colleague from the road patrol, who confirmed that my car was towed away due to a renewing of road markings, just two days after I left Léon. In this moment I felt so much relieved. It took a load off my mind!

They told me that my car was only 200 meters away on the parking area of the towing service and that I had nothing to pay, because it wasn't my fault, whereas there wasn't any sign to announce the roadworks. So I had to subscribe anything, got the keys, went to the car, put the keys in the keyhole to start the engine and ... nothing happened! I thought I could cry! The battery seemed to be low. Back to the policeman of the towing service, I called my car insurance for sending someone to help. It took another hour until a pleasant man came to jump start the car. As it worked and the battery recharged, I told him that I had to refuel the car, because the tank was almost empty. So we shut off the engine to find out, whether the car would start on its own after I would refuel it on the gas station. Once again nothing happened as I turned the key. So he agreed with escorting me to the gas station and starting the car again, if the battery would be still low. As the car didn't start on its own after driving 10 minutes to the gas station as well, I worried about arriving Germany, if the battery wouldn't charge itself by driving. The pleasant car mechanic said the battery could be completely dead and suggested to change it for the cost of 80€. Another possibility, he mentioned, is keeping the car running while refueling it again and again and to drive back to Germany without any break. I choosed the second option and the mechanic took cellotape to shut the tank (the filler neck would need the key for closing). So I gave thanks to the nice mechanic and hit the road willing to drive the whole way back to Germany without any break.

Beside the problem with my car I decided to take another even longer route back due to the high tolls I paid on the way there. This should take 3 or 4 hours more, because it prevented taking highways. Near Bordeaux I felt too tired to drive on, but didn't dare to turn off the engine. So I slept 3 hours, while the engine kept running. Later I had problems with staying awake while driving through Limousin and got lost a couple of times, because my printed route description wasn't very detailed. As I arrived in Halle after 30 hours of driving and 16 days after I set off, I had spent 800€, lost a side-view mirror (btw. thanks to the Polish truck driver!), got 2 ruined knees, slimmed down about 4 kg, got to know plenty of nice people and had a lot of fun.

Even though the most important thing about this journey was that I figured out that various European citizens are less different in their way of life then they would expect.

11th stage - Pedrouza (Arca) - Santiago de Compostella (22 km)

Finally it's happening! Thats for sure everybody thought as we woke up on the last day of our arduous way to Santiago de Compostella. Just a little more than 20 kilometers separated us from the long-awaited finish of this journey, so nobody needed to be motivated. Better and worse days seemed to change now regulary, because after the painless day before I had more problems with my feet and knees again. However that day I didn't really care. I walked my own tempo and enjoyed the foggy morning for the last time. As I was arriving Monto de Gozo, Fernando, Anna and Fran waited for me and Anna came running with a cold beer in her hand. From Monte de Gozo, which means "mountain of pleasure", the pilgrims have seen the towers of the cathedral for the first time in former times, but nowadays multistory buildings cover the sight. So we had to enter the city at least to get the breathtaking view on the cathedral. The first thing we've done was to get our Compostella, the pilgrimage certificate in the pilgrim's office. After a few beer three girls, we just got to know, took Fran and me by car to our a bit out-of-town pilgrim's hostel, while the others spend the night in a hotel in the inner city. Later we met again for the last dinner, while being all together. We asked a couple of native people for a neat place serving local specialities. It took a while, but finally we found an appealing restaurant and ate a delicious selection of tapas. Slowly the time approached when we had to say goodbye. Fernando, Anna and the 2 ladies wanted to take the plane the next morning back to Madrid, only Fran and me would stay another day in Santiago until my train would go, too. After one more drink in a smoky bar finally Fran and me bid farewell to the others and made the way to our outlying hostel by foot.

The next morning we slept late (fist time after nearly 2 weeks). For dinner we went to the Parador (!) near the Cathedral to have a free meal, which is/was an opportunity for pilgrims only. Fortunately I read about it in my guidebook, because my money got less as the time went by. Together with only 2 other guys we had a soup, mussels with potatoes and a dessert (see blurred photo). One of the 2 others, a French guy, Fran already met on the way from O Cebreiro to Samos, so we arranged for the evening to do the rally Paris - Dakar. That describes an alley in Santiago full of bars, where the first one is named Paris and the last Dakar. We knew Ephraim, the guy I met on the way to Portomarín, also would arrive on that day, so we called him for an invitation. In the afternoon Fran and me spend the time with sightseeing, hugging St. James or having some beer in a bar. So the evening came quite fast. We met the other two and started in Paris, after one or two beer, we changed to watch the football game between Bayern Munich and FC Barcelona. As a German I do not really want to refer about how the game ended, but just one thing: At halftime they gave me a handkerchief for whining! ;-)

Even though we didn't finish the rally, I got a few additional stamps of bars in my "credential". After Ephraim and the French had to leave, because their hostel closed at 12 o'clock, Fran and me met other friends of him and our journey through the night continued. As I had drunken enough beer and couldn't stay awake anymore, they called me a taxi and paid the driver. At 3 o'clock I collapsed into bed, not because of this night, but of the exhausting days before.