Belorado: The enchanted city

It was our seventh day on the trail and our first Saturay night. The albergue said curfew wasn`t until 11:30. In camino time, that was like letting us stay out all night. What would we do with all those hours to fill?

The passage of time goes slowly in the afternoons. After some cerveza, a shower, and tending to our feet (Kishor, I took a photo just for you) there isn`t a lot to see in these small towns other than their churches and squares. Sometimes, we find a grassy area and throw. No one brought playing cards, but we all admitted to weighing the pros and cons of carrying the extra weight. The Dutch girls finally made some out of paper from their journal, and we played `President`in Belorado over Sangria.

Belorado had more fun in store than we were ready for, though. Right after checking in (a process worthy of its own entry), we heard a brass band playing what sounded like football fight songs in the street. We went outside to find a group of attractive twenty-somethings wearing orange t-shirts and dancing in the street. There was sax player and a couple of horns, and everyone had a plastic cup of beer in their hand. It looked like a migratory frat party. After asking around, we found out that it basically was...

Everyone in the town who would turn 25 that year was celebrating on the same day. Then, the 30-year-olds came out of a neighboring bar in green t-shirts with even louder musical accompaniment. Apparently, when you turn 30 you get a receding hairline AND overpowering percussion. They definitely won the battle of the bands that ensued.

Somehow, the two groups continued to dance to the same songs well into the night. This town was creepy... it was freezing there, white wolf-like dogs roamed the square, there was a waffle-iron saint and an iron demon in the church. The next morning, we stepped out of the clouds back into sanity.