Day 37: I can see the end

Today for the first time I started to make plans to arrive at the last temple. I have one week left, and will need to make some compromises.

Right now, I just want to get it done, though without skipping any difficult part. If, on the other hand, there is a boring stretch along the highway, I’ll cut it without remorse and take either a bus or train.

I already dug a grave for my “walker” pride and honour, days ago. I might as well use it until the end.

Better keep a sword on yourself while showering. Evil spirits are always on the hunt.

This morning I quickly gathered two stamps from the temples #63 and #64, before taking a train that got me closer to the temple #65.

The climb to this last temple was not too difficult, and I managed to arrive there by 1 PM.

At the second temple, however, a weird guy in a sidecar unexpectedly showed up. He looked like a sort of war veteran with a camouflage helmet and a supposedly badass leather jacket.

The passenger seat on his motorbike actually had a freaking machine gun attached to it, while on the inside of the seat a bulky AK-47 was stored.

I’m sure they were replicas, or maybe just some fancy air soft guns. I hope they were, at least. Otherwise I can’t explain how he left everything in plain sight and went to pray for a good 10 minutes.

Thankfully this guy didn’t show up at dinner, last night, otherwise I might have borrowed his guns and spread some “human ketchup” all over the place.

The sidecar, with the fake (?) guns.

Speaking of horrible food, tonight I got served some weird spaghetti, again. To my defense, this time I had no choice: it was what they served at the hotel to all their guests.

While all the locals happily gorged on that monstruosity, I couldn’t help but feel a ominous spaghetti curse inevitably looming over my journey. Why?

Where do I even begin? From the hidden shrimps or the barbecue sauce?

I’m really pushing my stomach to the limit here. I hope it will keep up.

Let’s end the article with a silly joke that I just got in my head:

What do the guy with the sidecar and the cooks who prepared my last two dinners have in common?
They clearly don’t stick to their guns.

Well, I hope this wasn’t too horrible for you.

Cheers.