ENG:
This letter (or rather “retrospective diary”) was written in March 2014 in 20 pages, which was then sent to 20 of my friends. The unsophisticated style occurring sometimes is due to the primary audience of friends. On those reading through themselves, it usually had a nice impact: many of them reported meditative experience pulling out of everyday greyness, that’s why I make the whole of it available here, in 12 parts. Eventual supplements will be always in footnotes... This is the Part IV. :* (CLICK for the former parts!)
/…/ From here the motorway is not parallel with the Camino, so I had to cross the temporary rivers. The socks-plasticbag-socksagain combination only served me with destroying two pairs of socks in the same time out of three. Decorticating them from my sexy kind of feet in the end of the day has never provided me with a heartwarmingly sensual experience. Such things that blister, which is the biggest agony of a pilgrim, I already ignored in addition to the myriad of other inconvenience, especially that my whole foot was so withered like one great contiguous blister.
Obviously, my tormented boot of 5700 HUF (~18 euros) also started to give up. But so many things have we lived through together that in the meanwhile I got to love it, it remained a mate even despite the many holes. Camino phenomenon Nr.2: people start to attribute soul to their objects. Except for some “decadent Western bourgeois” who simply throw out their not exactly 5700 HUF perfect boot when getting wrinkled a little bit. (These can be collected by donkey, so since then I also have a pair of good short shoes.) They are the reason the Camino became good business, this way were established those many shops, restaurants and available arty trashes along the way, from which sometimes you can vomit on the Camino Francés. But in turn I’ve met many people who, for example, named their hiking stick. If you have only a few stuff, this few starts to behave like your extended yourself, thus, a part of your soul quasi migrates into them. So was my attitude towards this mere set of holes containing traces of shoes… Major part of the infrastructure is obviously closed in wintertime, so it was definitely worth to experience this little tour: the atmosphere is very different, business-free and… differently-good.
On the way the umbrella-found went awry, too, so I fled into a village church to avoid the heavier showers as well as to find my inner peace a little bit – at least until the end of the showers. Also to message Camilla my whereabouts. She was probably not happy that I arrive exactly that evening, since she had a lot to prepare for her route. She comforted me that while she’ll be away, a couple of Italian-guy + German-girl combination from the neighborhood moves in to take care of her dogs and girlie donkey, so I should not hurry ‘cause they will be there and Rocinante still behaves well.[1] Fuck, so now I just want to meet her to discuss it in person, and if the two donkeys are nice with each other as she imagined at the beginning, then – since she so much wanted it – it would be better for her, too, if Roci still stayed. 
I was pretty naïve, because by the time I got there through the increasingly difficult obstacles of water and mud, dead-sleepily and run-down, with backpack of 16 kilos on my back, at 9pm, they didn’t wait for me: light was on, dogs were barking but nobody let me in. When they finally got back it turned out that Camilla got a new dog (already hard to count the number of them, as she also kept four of those born in November), who escaped and the three of them together started the search but couldn’t find it. Why the hell must it be there another dog at a place where you already can’t make a step, especially for someone without money and unable to make ends meet without familial support at the age of thirty-eight? And no way could Rocinante stay! Now he has to get the hell out of here ‘cause he made her last two months miserable. Easiest to blame an animal for a situation that she made herself. And while covering the reality with dogs, bathing in the appreciation postulated for “animal charity”? Patting her own shoulder how great a person she is… OK, Camilla is not a simple case, she has an extremely hard story and a lot more problems to cope with than any of us, so I don’t want to judge over her at all, only it hurted that she in turn has judged over me, despite my honest intent and the fact I didn’t want to cause any harm.
And I certainly didn’t expect that they are going to look at me as a piece of shit. The Italian guy all along was very fair with me. (Note: an intelligent culture racist doesn’t generalize people, of course I don’t hate Italians, indeed! only just the manifestation of “Italianity”: being a mugger and being fucking fair to be cool, self-respecting pride and aggression instead of assertiveness…) But his chick who seems like an abstinent junkie continuously confirmed Camilla in her silliness so in the end I had to be glad to be allowed to sleep on the ground of an unheated empty room there. In the house which she wanted to lick into the shape of an ordinary donativo albergue last time, but in the end, instead, she decided to set up a kennel from it.
And I had inside all the stuffs for the donkey and camping lifestyle, plus Rocinante in the yard. And now I had to feel like crap, because referring to the letter of the Donkey Committee and a bunch of YouTube videos (and the common sense) and also deeply caring about the problem I’ve written my proposed solutions from home, which are contrary to their good-hearted husbandry principles. I wouldn’t go into details now.
In November (2013) everything seemed perfect here - "Musicians of Bremen" are forming
I felt shame set and almost sank there. This is one of my life-dread that when I know for sure that I'm right (already from the fact that I’m incomparably more rational and calmer than my opponent) I can’t argue with her because I don’t put that much emotion into it. And most people can be so indignant and self-confident that in the end I also believe they are right, no matter I know they aren’t. In general, this is one of the fucking great injustices encoded in evolution and one main reason for the established social hierarchy‘s absurdity. 
Meanwhile the dogs totally ate most of my bread stock (and they took apart my extravagant aviator sunglasses which I could collect from different parts of the hacienda; don’t mention it), so then started the permanently lingering hunger, still ongoing. No shops could be found in the neighborhood, most of these little villages don’t have any. I left some stuff here in November that I can trail with the donkey but not allowed as hand baggage on a low cost flight. Thus, I slept on my polyfoam, finally got a raincoat, yeahh, and could wear my fourth pullover, too. But my jacket was soaked, so unbelievably I froze more and slept less than the night before.
The self-loathing and the despair I drifted into was much worse than all, and that it was the first time the horror came to my mind that maybe my mother was right and the life-style I dreamed couldn’t be sustainable. Of course, she also creates her right with the constant speeches of that. Instead of admitting that this time – which is in my opinion the only adequate reaction: support –, can only be contra-productive and based on this admission, say, she would strengthen me in my decisions, ‘cause as you see they are fucking not easy. However, the more thoughtful! /…/
[1] I just recieved some information of them a few days ago: they still live in Galicia and recently they had a baby - congratulations and all the best!! :)
