But yesterday morning, after a couple of days not hiking, spending time in clinics and emergency rooms (everyone is fine), I felt the joy of the sun on my face and my feet steady on the path.
I saw things I would never see from a car and interacted with people from all over the world as we walked along the path.
|Cypress trees and a bell tower|
I try to keep my gaze upward so I don't think about my feet.
|The poppies are still in bloom here, though I think they're finished in our part of France|
|Earl had a taste.|
|Seems like hot work in the Spanish sun|
|Earl soldiered on once the doctor confirmed his leg wasn't broken. I'll never understand men.|
|The church in Los Arcos|
Instead, they let out one or two bulls at a time in the square and guys tried to get them to run at them. It felt mean to the cows. And, of course, as an American, I was routing for the cows.
They just wanted to go back to their corral at either end of the street.
We got to experience it then climbed over the closing at the Medieval gate to go to our hotel.
So we spent a couple of hours after our hike waiting to see the bulls, and a lot of it was standing.
I began to feel like my calves were sunburnt. When we got to the hotel, I learned that it wasn't sunburn but hikers' rash. It was the worst on my lower legs, but also on my thighs, my back and my stomach, so obviously not sun poisoning, although that's what it looks like.
It has something to do with circulation and heat and walking. I didn't think yesterday was particularly hot. I didn't get sunburned on my arms or neck and I didn't even sweat very much because there was a nice breeze throughout.
But today, with an angry rash, I'm not walking. Instead, I'm searching for a pharmacy that's open to try some antihistamines or whatever the pharmacist suggests.