Santarém or bust

Today is 32.3kms, with a 16km second half without facilities of any kind. My accommodation payment was sorted out at 10pm last night, with another 'I don't understand' phone call from owner and a visit from the English speaking son in law. This means I can start early for which I am grateful. I am using what ever conscious spare time I have reading a phrase book, I would love to be able to speak a little. It is surprising what can be communicated without any language in common, but it fails completely on a phone. On my first day I was stopped by an 81 year old man, to whom I was able to explain it would take me 24 days to walk to Santiago. His face took the same expression as a group of young guys yesterday, surprise and disbelief look the same in any language. From Lisbon most people walk to Fatima, the way to Santiago is the same until tomorrow when I will stop seeing the blue markers to Fatima and will only see the yellow. I have had a couple of occasions where I have had to double back and find the point where I missed the arrow, but generally they have been well placed and I am now familiar with the type of places they are likely to be.

The walk yesterday was shorter than the previous day but it was entirely on asphalt and I have a tiny blister on each my 4 smallest toes. I've patched them up and so it is time to head off. A goal for today: get to Santarém without making them worse. Last night's accommodation was great with air conditioning and a water cooler which I have used to fill my water pack. At 7am I get a coffee and a custard roulade encased in sugar for breakfast and I'm off.

It's nice walking through these lanes, there are tomatoes growing in most of the fields and the smell is ever present. I walk past some Australian immigrants but can't pick up the eucalyptus smell over the tomatoes. My next stop, after 12 kms, is for a coke, a coffee and a wonderful long thin apricot pastry. After 3 more kms I stop at the last place before Santarém for lunch. It's only 11:30 and I have done half the distance for the day, but I know the second half will be harder. It's getting hot now, over 30 again and there won't be anywhere to get refreshments so I am carrying 3 litres of water. Lunch is a prosciutto and cheese roll. The cheese is amazing. I head off at 12 and it takes a few minutes to walk through the urge to stop moving and lie down.

I find a nice tree to rest under at 2pm. My feet are getting sore. I starting playing a game of 'find the place that doesn't hurt', which keeps me occupied for quite some time. My stomach muscles are the winners, everywhere else has at least a dull ache. I know it is part of the process of adjusting to the extra effort, but it makes it harder to know when the pain is a message to stop before more lasting damage is done.  I check my feet and see that one of the blisters has grown. I do what I can to make it comfortable and head off. I still have about 7kms and the climb up to the city on the hill to go.

The next 4 hours are no fun. It's a beautiful city, but it's on a hill and it's bigger than the detail on my map allows me to navigate. I turn into the grand old Duke of York. I go up, down and around trying to find a place to stay. Option one is too expensive (€95) and renovating anyway. Option two and three play a game of hide and seek that I have to give up on. After an hour of walking around, on feet I can feel getting worse with every step, I find option four. It's name is misspelled in the guide. It's dark inside and as I go up three flights of stairs I am not sure it's a good choice. It's only €15 for a reason. As I am shown the 8 foot square box that is the room, I wonder if I am checking in to the Bates Motel. I am too exhausted to walk anywhere else so I take it. The owner lifts up the shutter on the window and the light floods in. I open the windows wide and it doesn't seem such a bad box anymore.

As I take a shower I am finding it difficult to put any pressure on the little toes of my left foot. I put some compeed bandaids on them, which I realise now I should have done this morning. I can walk now, but only just. It's 6pm and I am contemplating having to have a rest day tomorrow. After a bit of a lie down I decide to venture down to the tourist office, to get my credential stamped and find something to eat. The man at the office speaks enough English for me to also get help with my phone and he points me in the  direction of the nearest Vodafone, which is only 30 metres away. It's now 7 and they are closed but only just and there are people in there still. I express enough despair to evoke either empathy or curiosity and get the door opened. She works out that the problem is a lack of APN info, which I thought was the problem too, and she gives me a number to call. I have pizza for dinner and then head back to make the call. I manage to navigate the auto menu in Portuguese, as I now know the number 1 and the word 'mobile'. The guy on the phone is brilliant, he speaks enough English to be able to give all 4 pieces of information that I need to get data access on my phone. I have no idea why I wasn't given that at the airport, but I am grateful to have it now. He then apologizes for his 'movie English'. I tell him that he has made my day.  I now get to speak to Meredith for the first time since leaving.

At 10pm I feel much better than I did at 6pm. I have spoken with Meredith. My toes may be walkable but I will decide on that in the morning. I wash my clothes and day four is done.

Today's photos: eucalyptus, Santarém across the fields, some old church, and the view from my bedroom.