Hantanos to Boadillo: second day on the Meseta. Steady, trail not really tougher, but the walk was. One great hill, 8% grade up, 12% grade down. Followed the book.

Walking into Boadillo was a little familiar, to my childhood “Clint Eastwood western movies” memory. Municipal Albergue boarded. Few people active. Laid out like a set, bars/Albergue at each end. Maybe a good place for a showdown …

I choose the last Alburgue exiting town. A high wall with iron gate bounds a large patio and yard with soft grass. Pilgrims sitting at 4-5 of the six plastic tables. Inside, seems spacious and clean. I go to the desk to check in.

The first sign I see is in several languages, behind the desk clerk, a young man who seems annoyed or indifferent. (He seems both.) The sign says there are forms available for complaints.

I smiled thinking of Eagles’ Hotel California. That place would have a sign like that at check in.

I am first to check in, take a corner lower bunk. The next two, Ziggy from Germany and Catherine from Sweden, take corner lower bunks. Later, Marcos from Italy completes the lower corners. (Late that night, before curfew but after meal, three Italian bicyclists take bunks). Least full Alburgue in my two weeks.

Ziggy talks lots. We both notice our wastes thinner, belts run out of belt notches. Marcos only speaks Italian and French, naturally quiet. Catherine goes out to find dinner.

Meal was ok, no options, and served dutifully. We stabbed it with our stealy knives, had some wine and retired to ourselves before sleep.