Week 4: Camino Santiago de Compostela
The time had come: The Meseta* - the echo of its meaning initially triggering a slight sentiment of nervousness - was now almost behind me. It had delivered. I cried, I screamed, I hysterically laughed (all alone) and I organized, smashing all the flying debris in even smaller pieces until I finally grasped the overview of it all and could swiftly solve the complicated intrinsic puzzle that was slowing down my system. I had absorbed the searched out solitude and silence, while internally a screaming thunderstorm had raged through my brain, destroying all the junk files and irrelevant open tabs. It was so necessary. I had craved a mental clean-up, which is one of the most dominant reasons I started to walk 900KM all alone in the first place.
Time for a celebration.
* The Meseta is the flat stretch of land between the cities of Burgos and León, offering little variety in landscape. Its monotonous character is both famous and notorious for forcing people to turn their focus inwards.
Time for a celebration.
* The Meseta is the flat stretch of land between the cities of Burgos and León, offering little variety in landscape. Its monotonous character is both famous and notorious for forcing people to turn their focus inwards.
20: Reliegos – León
And celebrating I sure did. One could argue it’s my self-chosen specialty, as I sure as hell had a lot of training. Not only did I devour an unspeakable quantity of wine in that modestly-sized body of mine the night before, I also managed to get locked out of the albergue while my stuff was still inside of it (curious how that ended? – check the previous Camino Report!). Needless to say, I started my week less than fresh. New words have to be invented to describe this level of hangover (welcome to the 30ies!). I even managed to pass out alongside the trail while I was trying to crawl my way towards León. With a mouth like a desert, and spiderwebs in my hair (seriously – what’s up with the flying spiderwebs in this region, are the spiders also drunk around here?!) I finally… finally made it over there, in about twice the time reasonably necessary.
Luckily I had a recovery period planned in to get back to my senses, as after 8 days of non-stop walking (excl. sleep, thank you very much), I decided I deserved not one, but TWO full days of chill in this extremely pleasant and rather substantial city. After the Burgos-fuckery, including a sold-out town and the robbery of my cash money by the hotel owner, my Camino-buddy Lennart and I had pre-booked an Air BnB to not have our well-deserved rest intervened by any means. 10 bucks a night each for a private room with A BATH (can you hear those angels singing?), what are we even talking about?
And celebrating I sure did. One could argue it’s my self-chosen specialty, as I sure as hell had a lot of training. Not only did I devour an unspeakable quantity of wine in that modestly-sized body of mine the night before, I also managed to get locked out of the albergue while my stuff was still inside of it (curious how that ended? – check the previous Camino Report!). Needless to say, I started my week less than fresh. New words have to be invented to describe this level of hangover (welcome to the 30ies!). I even managed to pass out alongside the trail while I was trying to crawl my way towards León. With a mouth like a desert, and spiderwebs in my hair (seriously – what’s up with the flying spiderwebs in this region, are the spiders also drunk around here?!) I finally… finally made it over there, in about twice the time reasonably necessary.
Luckily I had a recovery period planned in to get back to my senses, as after 8 days of non-stop walking (excl. sleep, thank you very much), I decided I deserved not one, but TWO full days of chill in this extremely pleasant and rather substantial city. After the Burgos-fuckery, including a sold-out town and the robbery of my cash money by the hotel owner, my Camino-buddy Lennart and I had pre-booked an Air BnB to not have our well-deserved rest intervened by any means. 10 bucks a night each for a private room with A BATH (can you hear those angels singing?), what are we even talking about?
So, León! What can one even do there, besides crashing down into a deep coma and sleeping face-down into the world’s softest bed as long as humanly possible? Well, you have museums! Loads of ‘em! I checked out the rather ample collection of Museo de León (€1) to get a grasp of the foundations of the land I had been and will be walking on, day after day. From the Bronze Age to modern revolutions, never a dull moment on this stretch of earth! If you’re not quite the museum-kinda-guy/gal, a simple downtown stroll will already do, as the stunning architecture and open-space-art already accounts for your daily recommended dose of cultural intake. Or drink… you can go drinking too! All the damn time, and the great thing is that they reward you with free food here while doing so (every hour it’s pinxtos-o-clock, or so it seems!). Make sure you can remember what you did last night though, as confessing your sins comes at a steep price… they dare to charge about 6 bucks to enter the local Cathedral (can I deduct that from my tax money then?). A fine piece, I must admit.
While my company decided to move on to chase some Camino love (yes – apparently that’s a thing, a lot of people fall in love on the trails, HARD), I decided to deepen my ever-growing affection for León, now moving on to a Couchsurfing address. I simply adore the street scenes, its vibrations, the little bars straight out of Van Gogh paintings… warmth and merrymaking trembling in between the medieval walls and narrow alleys. I wanted to breathe in the spirit of León right through my pores, merge into its aura and for this short moment form a tiny little shackle, a colourful nuance of its all-including tableau vivant.
Night spent in: Air BnB & Couchsurfing
While my company decided to move on to chase some Camino love (yes – apparently that’s a thing, a lot of people fall in love on the trails, HARD), I decided to deepen my ever-growing affection for León, now moving on to a Couchsurfing address. I simply adore the street scenes, its vibrations, the little bars straight out of Van Gogh paintings… warmth and merrymaking trembling in between the medieval walls and narrow alleys. I wanted to breathe in the spirit of León right through my pores, merge into its aura and for this short moment form a tiny little shackle, a colourful nuance of its all-including tableau vivant.
Night spent in: Air BnB & Couchsurfing
|
|
21: León – Mazarife (alternative route)
I didn’t want to leave León. I could have stayed 2 weeks instead of 2 days. Normally I tend to give in to such sentiments, but the longing to reach Santiago de Compostela overruled any other emotion… so I put on my hiking boots and simply continued walking. That’s my life now.
The warm wave of happiness inundating my overall thinking the past couple of days was in some way necessary to come to terms with the seriousness of the blows life sometimes hands out, completely at random. There are simply no lows without highs. A few weeks ago, when I had just kicked off with the Camino, someone had reached out to me. Someone who had lost his mother this summer (and with that the only parent he had left), as a fatal traffic accident had promptly ended her journey towards Santiago de Compostela. Life can be so bloody unfair sometimes. As he followed my journey along these celebrated trails he humbly requested to leave some stones with his name on it at the spot marked by this tragedy, and possibly some memorials. Of course, that’s not even a consideration. This day was the day to pass by the location that was recently tainted with such dark memories. Fresno del Camino. Upon her son’s inquiry I got in touch with the man who had last seen her alive and had assisted her during her final moments, establishing the contact between him and the family.
Very grim, but she isn’t and will not be forgotten. I obtained an extra pilgrim credential and continued the Camino in here name from where hers so abruptly ended. Nijsje Klem, this one is for you!
I didn’t want to leave León. I could have stayed 2 weeks instead of 2 days. Normally I tend to give in to such sentiments, but the longing to reach Santiago de Compostela overruled any other emotion… so I put on my hiking boots and simply continued walking. That’s my life now.
The warm wave of happiness inundating my overall thinking the past couple of days was in some way necessary to come to terms with the seriousness of the blows life sometimes hands out, completely at random. There are simply no lows without highs. A few weeks ago, when I had just kicked off with the Camino, someone had reached out to me. Someone who had lost his mother this summer (and with that the only parent he had left), as a fatal traffic accident had promptly ended her journey towards Santiago de Compostela. Life can be so bloody unfair sometimes. As he followed my journey along these celebrated trails he humbly requested to leave some stones with his name on it at the spot marked by this tragedy, and possibly some memorials. Of course, that’s not even a consideration. This day was the day to pass by the location that was recently tainted with such dark memories. Fresno del Camino. Upon her son’s inquiry I got in touch with the man who had last seen her alive and had assisted her during her final moments, establishing the contact between him and the family.
Very grim, but she isn’t and will not be forgotten. I obtained an extra pilgrim credential and continued the Camino in here name from where hers so abruptly ended. Nijsje Klem, this one is for you!
[In order to support her family with this tragic loss, I’d like to ask any pilgrim passing by Fresno del Camino – on the alternative, greener route right after León – to leave a stone, message, prayer or memorial in Nijsje’s memory. In case you won’t pass this location anytime soon, feel more than free to leave a memorandum on this website - the website is in Dutch, but you can right-click and hit ‘translate’]
After all villagers had invited me into the bar for a drink and refreshments (the event had thoroughly shaken up the small town, the memory of this drama forever echoing through its streets), I dreamily continued the absolutely breath-taking track Nijsje had intended to make hers, and finally halted in Mazarife. In Casa Jesús, to be more precise. Which in fact didn’t have any religious reference, but it was simply the house of Mr. Jesús. And Jesús was a little bit drunk. I would be too in all fairness, if I had to call Mazarife my home, as there is literally nothing else to do but getting shit-faced or sleep… as the only guest in the entire albergue, I opted for the latter. Silence.
Night spent in: Casa Jésus
After all villagers had invited me into the bar for a drink and refreshments (the event had thoroughly shaken up the small town, the memory of this drama forever echoing through its streets), I dreamily continued the absolutely breath-taking track Nijsje had intended to make hers, and finally halted in Mazarife. In Casa Jesús, to be more precise. Which in fact didn’t have any religious reference, but it was simply the house of Mr. Jesús. And Jesús was a little bit drunk. I would be too in all fairness, if I had to call Mazarife my home, as there is literally nothing else to do but getting shit-faced or sleep… as the only guest in the entire albergue, I opted for the latter. Silence.
Night spent in: Casa Jésus
22: Mazarife – Astorga (alternative route)
The difference between Jesus and Jesús is that the albergues focused on the first drill you out of bed at 7AM, while the latter doesn’t give two flying fucks about what you do with your life or when you do it. I could finally adult again… and with that I mean: Give in to my ever-present weakness of being the slowest excess of humanity before the clock strikes midday. Even the Camino can’t beat that out of me (and God knows it tries!). It took me ‘till far after noon before I scraped up the motivation to set the first step of the 31,4KM I somehow had to squeeze out me (the standard route only being 23.7KM)… and with an injured leg, that is. Nothing major, just when you start walking these distances every single day of the week your body eventually signals “hold up there sister, what the hell are you doing?!” There’s no better way to discover your own body than by walking the Camino: Every single day I discover new spots that can hurt, sometimes muscles or bones I didn’t even know existed. I simply ignored it; how can I reach Santiago paying attention to every little discomfort? The sharp shoots of pain had an almost meditative effect as time went by.
What made the day more rewarding is that nobody seemed to have taken the alternative route (or no one is that deadbeat lazy in the morning – another explanation) … I hadn’t cross paths with other hikers for a solid two days now, and I only saw other living beings again once I returned on the mainstream ‘Camino Real’. Those poor bastards had walked two days along a highway, I had only seen green and greener… breaking away from the beaten path is generally rewarding, be it literally or figuratively speaking.
The difference between Jesus and Jesús is that the albergues focused on the first drill you out of bed at 7AM, while the latter doesn’t give two flying fucks about what you do with your life or when you do it. I could finally adult again… and with that I mean: Give in to my ever-present weakness of being the slowest excess of humanity before the clock strikes midday. Even the Camino can’t beat that out of me (and God knows it tries!). It took me ‘till far after noon before I scraped up the motivation to set the first step of the 31,4KM I somehow had to squeeze out me (the standard route only being 23.7KM)… and with an injured leg, that is. Nothing major, just when you start walking these distances every single day of the week your body eventually signals “hold up there sister, what the hell are you doing?!” There’s no better way to discover your own body than by walking the Camino: Every single day I discover new spots that can hurt, sometimes muscles or bones I didn’t even know existed. I simply ignored it; how can I reach Santiago paying attention to every little discomfort? The sharp shoots of pain had an almost meditative effect as time went by.
What made the day more rewarding is that nobody seemed to have taken the alternative route (or no one is that deadbeat lazy in the morning – another explanation) … I hadn’t cross paths with other hikers for a solid two days now, and I only saw other living beings again once I returned on the mainstream ‘Camino Real’. Those poor bastards had walked two days along a highway, I had only seen green and greener… breaking away from the beaten path is generally rewarding, be it literally or figuratively speaking.
|
|
I limped on into the darkness, fuelled by a donativo food stand in the middle of frikkin’ nowhere full of freshly baked and brewed vegan and vegetarian snacks (what can I say, we’re good folks – caring about the planet and all beings walking its surface, including humans, what’s not to like ?!), until I finally… FI-NA-LLY reached Astorga. Beautiful, welcoming, charming Astorga. As I was physically incapable of doing anything more than putting food and wine in my mouth, I decided to do just that, softly leaning backwards in the amiable embrace of this downright feel-good settlement. Astorga was everything I needed.
Night spent in: Siervas de Maria (asociación)
Night spent in: Siervas de Maria (asociación)
23: Astorga - Manjarín
I wished León and Astorga were further apart, because boy, how much I would’ve enjoyed a break here. But having just three full nights in León behind me, I couldn’t possibly find a reasonable excuse to allow myself yet another pause. So I just stood there in front of its eye-popping cathedral to delay my departure, wondering if the different shades in its sandstone layers told a story of different streams and historic developments over time.
I had promised myself a laid-back day of hiking, in compensation of the 30+K I had pooped out the day before… but I’m a bad listener, even to myself. Another 30KM was on the (completely-made-up-as-I-go-)agenda, powered by the conversation I had that morning with an Estonian guy who had literally walked from Estonia (half a year on the Camino and counting), planning to continue from Santiago all the way down to Faro, Portugal. Makes my endeavour sound like a pussy-stroll-around-the-block, does it now?
It wasn’t only the fierce desire of proofing myself to myself that kept me going, also the bewildering landscapes (I heart mountains!) and the simple absence of open cheap-skate albergues was a factor that inevitably pushed me forward. It was the eccentric appearance of a refugio in Manjarín, ran by some devoted members of the Templar Order (costumes and everything), that promptly stopped me with instantly triggered curiosity.
I wished León and Astorga were further apart, because boy, how much I would’ve enjoyed a break here. But having just three full nights in León behind me, I couldn’t possibly find a reasonable excuse to allow myself yet another pause. So I just stood there in front of its eye-popping cathedral to delay my departure, wondering if the different shades in its sandstone layers told a story of different streams and historic developments over time.
I had promised myself a laid-back day of hiking, in compensation of the 30+K I had pooped out the day before… but I’m a bad listener, even to myself. Another 30KM was on the (completely-made-up-as-I-go-)agenda, powered by the conversation I had that morning with an Estonian guy who had literally walked from Estonia (half a year on the Camino and counting), planning to continue from Santiago all the way down to Faro, Portugal. Makes my endeavour sound like a pussy-stroll-around-the-block, does it now?
It wasn’t only the fierce desire of proofing myself to myself that kept me going, also the bewildering landscapes (I heart mountains!) and the simple absence of open cheap-skate albergues was a factor that inevitably pushed me forward. It was the eccentric appearance of a refugio in Manjarín, ran by some devoted members of the Templar Order (costumes and everything), that promptly stopped me with instantly triggered curiosity.
|
|
|
I decided to spend the night here. A good choice? Hm. Maybe, if you’re into rustic experiences. And with that I mean, really, REALLY, over-the-top hardcore rustic… like, rats-walking-over-your-face-when-you’re-sleeping-rustic.
Yeah… I mean, the people were absolutely wonderful. In a world where you sometimes wonder were kindness is hiding, I can tell you that it’s in fact right there, in a ramshackle kitschy hut right on top of a stormy mountain in northern Spain. And I’m also not complaining about the absolute basicness of the entity, even though my bicycle actually enjoyed a more luxurious shelter than me that night, as I’m in fact the kind of girl that loves climbing trees and building fires. In any other situation I couldn’t even care less about bathing in the river or taking a piss behind the bushes (I’m doing it all the time along the Camino, without leaving any toilet paper flying around)… but wind force 13 complicates the matter, unless self-induced golden showers really are your cup of tea. Talking about cups, that’s exactly where I peed in instead (demanding strong beak control to not overflow!), tossing it out of the window after completion (#2 was simply out of the question, just submit those butt cheeks to a military training as that’s the only choice you have here). I also didn’t care I slept on the absolute worst mattress on the entire Camino, including those nights sleeping on thin mats on floors in donativo shelters and in the grass of church gardens, neither did I care my ass was literally blue from the freezing cold. But waking up because I felt a squeaking rat running over my hair, that’s where I draw the line. That’s where my 1-on-1 with nature has to tone it down a notch.
Even though the property owns about 8 cats, the assistant-hospitalero wasn’t willing to go out and lend me one… and as such I spent the entire night sitting straight up on the ‘bed’, surrounding myself in a sea of light to scare 'em off. Prime Camino time, I tell ya.
Night spent in: Albergue Manjarín
Yeah… I mean, the people were absolutely wonderful. In a world where you sometimes wonder were kindness is hiding, I can tell you that it’s in fact right there, in a ramshackle kitschy hut right on top of a stormy mountain in northern Spain. And I’m also not complaining about the absolute basicness of the entity, even though my bicycle actually enjoyed a more luxurious shelter than me that night, as I’m in fact the kind of girl that loves climbing trees and building fires. In any other situation I couldn’t even care less about bathing in the river or taking a piss behind the bushes (I’m doing it all the time along the Camino, without leaving any toilet paper flying around)… but wind force 13 complicates the matter, unless self-induced golden showers really are your cup of tea. Talking about cups, that’s exactly where I peed in instead (demanding strong beak control to not overflow!), tossing it out of the window after completion (#2 was simply out of the question, just submit those butt cheeks to a military training as that’s the only choice you have here). I also didn’t care I slept on the absolute worst mattress on the entire Camino, including those nights sleeping on thin mats on floors in donativo shelters and in the grass of church gardens, neither did I care my ass was literally blue from the freezing cold. But waking up because I felt a squeaking rat running over my hair, that’s where I draw the line. That’s where my 1-on-1 with nature has to tone it down a notch.
Even though the property owns about 8 cats, the assistant-hospitalero wasn’t willing to go out and lend me one… and as such I spent the entire night sitting straight up on the ‘bed’, surrounding myself in a sea of light to scare 'em off. Prime Camino time, I tell ya.
Night spent in: Albergue Manjarín
This is actually the second time that happened to me: Torres Del Paine, Chile, Patagonia - when an army of rats had eaten themselves through my tent and crawled all over me to reach my food provisions that should’ve lasted me another 3 days... I was a skeleton coming out of that trek… read that story, called ‘Shitstorm in Paradise’, right here!
24: Manjarín - Ponferrada
After possibly the worst night on the entire Camino, I was properly drilled to start the worst day (so far!), weather-condition-wise. Soon I realized that the rain had not only leaked right on top of all of my clothing, soaking every single protection layer against the stinging cold, the raging storm outside had also ripped the entire roof off of the other dormitory, as well as the chimney in the main ‘reception area’. Just to give you a global idea of the current climatic situation I had to physically push myself out of somehow.
Hardly able to bend my fingers due to the paralyzing cold I tried to dress myself, anxiously peeking outside at the thunderstorm of horizontal rain slamming against the shelter… and soon, against me. As such, the rewarding mountain panoramas that had energized me the day before were now covered from plain sight. Where I generally avoid the highways like some toxic disease, I now had to choose them occasionally over the stunning trails (proper trails – not easy asphalt or flat gravel like a big chunk of the Camino), as they had turned into instant rivers overnight. Because Family Rat had feasted on my provisions and rat piss can literally kill you, I neither had any reserves left for breakfast nor lunch, forcing me into an overpriced Camino-fuelled eatery instantly draining my daily budget of about €10 (believe me when I say I have been easily managing it with that amount so far, incl. everything). In short, a less-than-ideal day.
24: Manjarín - Ponferrada
After possibly the worst night on the entire Camino, I was properly drilled to start the worst day (so far!), weather-condition-wise. Soon I realized that the rain had not only leaked right on top of all of my clothing, soaking every single protection layer against the stinging cold, the raging storm outside had also ripped the entire roof off of the other dormitory, as well as the chimney in the main ‘reception area’. Just to give you a global idea of the current climatic situation I had to physically push myself out of somehow.
Hardly able to bend my fingers due to the paralyzing cold I tried to dress myself, anxiously peeking outside at the thunderstorm of horizontal rain slamming against the shelter… and soon, against me. As such, the rewarding mountain panoramas that had energized me the day before were now covered from plain sight. Where I generally avoid the highways like some toxic disease, I now had to choose them occasionally over the stunning trails (proper trails – not easy asphalt or flat gravel like a big chunk of the Camino), as they had turned into instant rivers overnight. Because Family Rat had feasted on my provisions and rat piss can literally kill you, I neither had any reserves left for breakfast nor lunch, forcing me into an overpriced Camino-fuelled eatery instantly draining my daily budget of about €10 (believe me when I say I have been easily managing it with that amount so far, incl. everything). In short, a less-than-ideal day.
And that’s okay. How can you even realize you’re experiencing a peak, when you’ve never been dragged through lows? It’s essential to feeling, to learning. Honestly, I can already laugh about my little rat adventure, I could do so on the very same day. It’s just my life… these unusual, madhouse situations, encounters and people always tend to find me somehow, and I decided to just embrace it. It makes a damn good story: never a dull moment, even if I’d beg for it. It’s like I didn’t choose this profession (a full-time adventurer and travel blogger), but it chose me. I’m just living it for your entertainment, a humble messenger.
Night spent in: Couchsurfing
Night spent in: Couchsurfing
Check out the Camino Series:
|
|
|
|
In order to support the travelers’ community, I spend many hours per week to adequately document all information and advices for prospective visitors, accompanied by a (hopefully) entertaining insight into my personal observations and experiences. This service is and will remain free. However, if you voluntarily want to make a contribution and support my travels and thus the creation of new stories and information supply, here is the button you’re looking for:
Related:
- Check out all Camino Frances stories right here!
- Hiking Poland's longest mountain trail (550km) with a tent: Glowny Szlak Beskidzki - check the reports here!
- Check out Budget Bucket List's FAVORITE HIKING DESTINATIONS worldwide!
- A life-changing volunteer experience in Roatan, Honduras: Subject of the Camino Fundraiser!
- Rats on my face in another context: Torres del Paine, Patagonia [Chile]
- Discover more of Spain: Barcelona, Malaga & Sevilla!
- Visit Europe's mini-countries: Gibraltar, Liechtenstein, Luxemburg, Kosovo & Wales!
- Visit Portugal: Exploring the Algarve & Lisbon
- Europe's best skiing & hiking: Get your ass over to jaw-dropping Switzerland!
- Complete hiking guide to Cameron Highlands [Malaysia]
- Borneo's main hiking destination: Kuching - in's & out's
- Peru's hiking capital: Huaraz! The best overnight treks & day hikes!
- Tripping on Ayahuasca [Valle Sagrado - Peru]
- Hiking Argentinean Patagonia: The best walks in Bariloche, El Chaltén, Esquel and Ushuaia
- Going off-grid in Bolivia: Multi-day hiking trips in the mountains of Sucre & Sorata
- Hike the national parks of Brazil!
- Boiling hot hiking: Natural endeavours in Paraguay
- 2 months in Boquete: Panama's Hiking Capital!
- Discover New Zealand: The world's best hikes crammed in 1 country!
- The Austrian Alps: Top Ski Resorts
- Climbing Mount Vitosha: Bulgaria's most famous mountain
- Hitchhiking Transylvania: The green heart of Romania
- Why are Koreans the world's most enthusiast hikers? Read more about Korea's national parks!
- Check out all Camino Frances stories right here!
- Hiking Poland's longest mountain trail (550km) with a tent: Glowny Szlak Beskidzki - check the reports here!
- Check out Budget Bucket List's FAVORITE HIKING DESTINATIONS worldwide!
- A life-changing volunteer experience in Roatan, Honduras: Subject of the Camino Fundraiser!
- Rats on my face in another context: Torres del Paine, Patagonia [Chile]
- Discover more of Spain: Barcelona, Malaga & Sevilla!
- Visit Europe's mini-countries: Gibraltar, Liechtenstein, Luxemburg, Kosovo & Wales!
- Visit Portugal: Exploring the Algarve & Lisbon
- Europe's best skiing & hiking: Get your ass over to jaw-dropping Switzerland!
- Complete hiking guide to Cameron Highlands [Malaysia]
- Borneo's main hiking destination: Kuching - in's & out's
- Peru's hiking capital: Huaraz! The best overnight treks & day hikes!
- Tripping on Ayahuasca [Valle Sagrado - Peru]
- Hiking Argentinean Patagonia: The best walks in Bariloche, El Chaltén, Esquel and Ushuaia
- Going off-grid in Bolivia: Multi-day hiking trips in the mountains of Sucre & Sorata
- Hike the national parks of Brazil!
- Boiling hot hiking: Natural endeavours in Paraguay
- 2 months in Boquete: Panama's Hiking Capital!
- Discover New Zealand: The world's best hikes crammed in 1 country!
- The Austrian Alps: Top Ski Resorts
- Climbing Mount Vitosha: Bulgaria's most famous mountain
- Hitchhiking Transylvania: The green heart of Romania
- Why are Koreans the world's most enthusiast hikers? Read more about Korea's national parks!