Houston, We Have a Problemo!

So remember Mark´s little shin splint that caused us to cut our day short on the last post? Well, he rested all afternoon and then we went to stroll around the town to see the sights. We were in Castrojertz, a very beautiful village with a population of about 1,000. About 10 minutes into our walk, Mark had to stop. He had apparently developed the monther of all shin splints. We went back to the albergue and started researching shin splints on the internet. While there was a diversity of opinion about whether to ice it, compress it or massage it, each site agreed that the most important thing to do was rest it. We went back and forth on whether to try to push on, walking shorter distances and more slowly, but when he stood up and put weight on the leg, we knew that we were done for. This was not an easy decision. We really want to walk every inch of the Camino and there was this terrible feeling of failure, plus a bigger fear that if we stopped, we wouldn´t ever start again. But, hey, he really couldn´t walk so we just had to put on our best faces and take a break.
After much discussion, we decided to leave Castrojertz and head onto Leon. The main thinking was that if we got waylaid for three or four days with nothing to do and nothing to read and feeling pretty depressed, we would do permanent damage to the marriage. Leon is the next big city, so there would be enough to keep me amused on the layover and a more comfortable place for Mark to rest. We asked the hospitaliero (albergue owner) about the bus and he told us that we could catch the 8:00 back to Burgos and from there, go on to Leon. So the next day, when all of our fellow travellers strapped on their packs and headed out for their day´s journey, Mark and I headed down to the town´s sole gas station to catch the bus. You´ve never seen two such dejected and sad souls as Mark and I as we got on that bus, exiled from the Camino!
Oddly enough, things got better in the Burgos bus station. First, we met a woman from Luxemberg who was catching a bus to Madrid. She told us she had gotten a shin splint, kept walking and burst a blood vessel. She went to a doctor who told her that she needed a minimum 10 days bed rest, so she was heading home to take care of herself. That at least confirmed that we were doing the right thing, despite the disappointment.
Next, we met two wonderful Australian woman. One was a working Mom from Tasmania. The other was a very flamboyant woman from Brisbayne (polka dot hat - you have to love it), who had lived all of the world with multiple husbands. She was telling me that she was loving the Camino although she really didn´t like to walk (huh???) and so they were basically doing the Camino via bus. Mark was talking to the lady from Tasmania and, bless her little heart, found out that she was a physiotherapist. She gracefully offered to take a look at his leg and said that if he really was careful, he could probably be back his feet in three to four days. She gave him a regimen to follow and wished us luck. We boarded the bus to Leon in considerably better spirits and decided that we really ought to try to make the best of being in Leon instead of beating ourselves up for having to interrupt the Camino.
When we arrived in early afternoon, the city had already shut down for siesta. We walked the half mile from the bus station to the information booth to get a map of the city and some clue on hotels, but it was closed. Mark was pretty much in agony at this point, so I went off to walk the neighborhood and try to find a hotel. Now let me be very honest that I have absolutely no linguistic skills. Despite clear intentions, my Spanish is basically non-existant, so unless the desk clerk is either bilingual or psychic, I can´t make myself understood, and on the rare occassion that I manage to string a couple of words together correctly, I have absolutely no idea what they are saying in response. I took my fractured Spanish to five hotels only to be told that there were no rooms available. I was totally frazzled when I finally found a room in a one-star hotel but for one night only. The kindest thing that I can say about the room was that it didn´t have bunk beds, but nonetheless, I was grateful to find something. I went back and got Mark, found some ice and we spent the afternoon icing down his shin.
At 5:30, we headed back to the information booth to get the map and figure out where we were going to stay for the rest of our time in Leon. I have to digress a little here because this is truly miraculous. Over the past two weeks, Mark has somehow learned Spanish. He knew a few words when we came over and totally hated the Spanish tapes that we had studied. But all of sudden, he´s speaking Spanish incredibly well. I´m sure his grammar is lacking, but we had dinner the other night with a man who only spoke Spanish and Mark engaged him in a conversation for a full three course meal. I don´t get it - it´s like he´s been touched by Berlitz. In any case, within an hour of leaving the information booth, he had managed to find a cozy room in a charming pension on a sun flooded square for the rest of the stay. He had also found me the English version of Anna Quindlen´s latest novel, had a lengthy consultation with a pharmacist en espanol on the benefits of ibuprofen versus feldene for a shin splint (600 mg of ibuprofen won out - less chance of stomach irritation), found an internet cafe and had purchased a large slice of local apple tarta for a bedtime snack. He´s the best person in the universe to travel with even when he´s totally gimpy! By 7:00 that evening, we were comfortably sitting with a beer in a cafe in front of the cathedral bathed in sunlight and watching the Friday night work crowd pour through the streets. He looked at me and said "It´s hard to believe that only 12 hours ago, we were so miserable standing in front on the gas station. Life seems pretty good now.¨ Point well taken - lesson learned.
So now it is Saturday afternoon. We have moved to our pension (corner room with five windows - score!) Mark is upstairs with a cold compress on his leg and has been off of his feet for most of the day. I´m sitting in the hotel bar with a cup of cafe con leche and a flat panel monitor (double score). We´ll see what happens with his leg. If it heals, we´re headed straight back to the Camino. If it´s not better by Monday or Tuesday, we´ll probably have to stop here and try to pick up the trip again next year. While we´re really hoping for the former, we also know that we´ve had a fantastic experience up to this point, and if we have to abort, it won´t be the end of the world. So if you have any good wishes to spare, please send them our way. I´ll let you know what happens!