Yesterday my friend Rich asked about the emotional ramifications of having to get in a taxi, take a break, and maybe adjusting the way I will go on from here. There are a whole host of emotions batting about in me, and there have been during this whole adventure. I've been going up and down, joy to dread, bliss to tears, elation and connectedness to loneliness and what the hell am I doing out here, wonder at the marvels of the planet and what amazing architecture and art humans are capable of to wonder at the idiocy and violence that humans are capable of (I passed a mass grave for victims of the Spanish Civil War a few days before going through a Plaza de Generalissimo Francisco Franco, and who can forget the Inquisition when visiting the amazing Catholic churches throughout Spain?).

So the emotions of the last few days are just adding to the soup. Of course I'm disappointed that I can't seem to keep up the 14 mile-a-day pace I was hoping for without tearing up my feet, but to tell the truth I'm accepting it quite well. For one, I seem to be missing that macho gene prevalent in so many men, so when I confront my weaknesses--particularly my physical ones--it doesn't rankle me to the core. And for two, as I've grown older I've become much more process-oriented than goal-oriented. I try to put my all into things, and I'm hungry for experience, but if things don't work out as planned I'm generally ok with it. So I'm accepting where things stand quite comfortably. I'll make the best of it.

So far being "stuck" here in Sahagun has been just fine, and in fact I'm enjoying having the leisure time, just as I did in Burgos. I just got back from another walk around town, and it's a picturesque, historic town with early churches and monasteries. I haven't even gotten to many of them yet because I keep getting sidetracked taking photos. In fact the "stuckness" might work to my advantage. I've realized that I've often rushed through very photogenic towns because I had a mission to cover a certain amount of territory; maybe my feet are saying, whoa, slow down and look more closely. And yesterday evening was a trip. The running of the bulls through town. What a scene! Cacophonous bands, wild dancing, youthful posturing, and falling over bouncing off the walls drunkenness. Ok, here's my politically incorrect judgmentalism: it was certainly interesting anthropologically, but I found it a bit ridiculous. All these kids having to prove their virility, having to look and act tough. I had positioned myself in a perfect spot to take pics, right at a fence where the road curved and the action would come right towards me. Well there were a ton of 20 somethings waiting for the bulls right at that corner. When the bulls were more than 200 yards away, a whole host of of the young men started running right towards the fence and hopped over, long before the bulls even came close. My view and pics were gone and I was in the middle of a ton of guys who had "run with the bulls" but really hadn't. But they had proved themselves to the girls, and I guess that's what really matters.

I don't think I'll go to the bullfight tonight. There's so much hoopla going on, it might be enough for me. Earlier today I spent about 25 minutes watching groomers put horses' manes into lovely braided and embellished decorations. And I'll be able to watch the processions and the bands and the people on the way into the bullring. I just don't think I want to see the bulls actually being slaughtered.