A place on the Way called Olmillos de Sasamón

This isn't the first time that a traveler, leaving behind the misty mountains of the north and the dusty, hellish Gothic Fields of Palencia, faces his return journey to Burgos with his stomach growling like a beast and thoughts reluctant to abandon, even momentarily, the immeasurable pleasure of adventure.

Whether because it's the shortest route or perhaps because the generally outdated GPS is as stubborn as a mule, there's a stretch on that brand-new highway that, under the name of the Saint James Way Highway, connects Burgos with León. The fact is that it reaches those hours when every traveler with common sense should put into practice the old advice: 'with bread and wine, the road is well traveled.'

Since restaurants aren't always reached on time, and sometimes waiting despairs, it's also a good idea to calm life's worries with a succulent sandwich and a couple of mild beers—non-alcoholic, that is—and spend the after-dinner time exploring the place where you're stopping, before returning to the routine of the road or facing the almost 300 kilometers that separate you from your home in Madrid. Watching, slightly annoyed, as the old towns that once welcomed hundreds of pilgrims now suffer the ostracism of oblivion on both sides of the boring highway.

"Sic transit gloria mundi, so passes the glory of the world," the traveler thinks desolately, as he is drawn, like a magnet, toward a formidable castle, whose grandeur and excellent state of preservation give him the mistaken impression that it is a modern construction, when he notices, in addition, that it is now a hotel-restaurant.

This is, of course, a false impression, because, in reality, it is an original 16th-century building, which, curiously enough, also belonged to a powerful family of converted Jews, the Cartagenas, who, due to life circumstances, fell into decline and saw the castle and other properties swell the fortunes of other, more fortunate families, including the powerful Mendoza family, who, moreover, were unable to prevent it from being practically destroyed by guerrillas in revenge for the authorities' collaboration with Napoleon Bonaparte's occupying army during the Independence War.

It could also be said that this castle, converted into a hotel and boasting all modern comforts, along with the imposing church, which, to the traveler's chagrin, blends two very different styles—the joy of the Gothic and the dull austerity of the Renaissance—are the most defining elements of this little-known Castilian village, located a short distance from other leading locations on the Saint James Way as it passes through Burgos, such as Sasamón and Castrojeriz.

But it's a mistake if we don't appreciate, as it deserves, the old Castilian architecture and those details of picturesque humanity that characterize it, where there's never a shortage of flowers on terraces and windows, slippery vines twisting along the walls until their branches curl with the fruit whose fermentation made the patriarch Noah the first known drunkard after the Great Flood, and a rough but fitting wooden bench by the door of the house, which speaks of something that today, absurdly and incredibly, they want to prohibit and fine: neighborly fraternalization.

Or, to put it another way, to make it easier to understand: what neighbors in towns and cities have always done, something as healthy, genuine, and sensible as sitting down to enjoy the fresh air and chat.

Enigmas of modern thought, the traveler thinks bitterly, as, once again on the highway, he leaves this peaceful and picturesque town behind, to continue the adventure of returning home.

NOTICE: Both the text and the accompanying photographs are my exclusive intellectual property and are therefore subject to my Copyright.