In order to avoid repeating the banishment from Burgos, we decided to spend our first night in Leon in a pension, basically a bed-and-breakfast without the breakfast open to any visitor (not just pilgrims). It's a little pricier -- 15€ versus the usual 6€ or 7€ -- but oh what a difference a few euros make.
For starters, we have private triple rooms. With real beds. Some of us even have private baths. There are art prints and mirrors on the walls. Sheets AND blankets. The washing machine is free. There's a rooftop terrace with an unbroken view if the cathedral and the city. WiFi actually works.
True luxury, though, comes in the form of a little black box on the wall. That's right, folks: The pilgrims are watching TV. We devoured Spanish-dubbed Disney channel, Jersey Shore, and Embarazada a las 16 before discovering how to change audio to English, after which we watched Bones.
In the evening, we embarked on another sacred pilgrimage: to El Corte Inglés, which I have previously described on this blog as Harrod's meets Costco. Still true. We bought MariLu, Kevin's favorite cookie, and peanut butter and cheddar cheese and other sorely-missed goodness. We ogled at the cheeses and the ham haunches and the olive oil and the massive chorizo coils and the pastry counter -- and that was only the supermarket floor.
Back at the pension, we repaired to the terrace, sharing laughter and our delicious new treasures 'til late in the night. This morning, we broke the most hallowed pilgrim's rule of all by sleeping in past 6am. At a most luxurious noon, we shall decamp for an albergue, where the kind caretakers will happily stamp our pilgrim's credentials and invite us to rest after what must have been an arduous morning of walking. Let's hope our flip flops don't give us away.
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