It was a day of pain angels, steep climbs and descents, charming villages, persistent knee pain, and smacking good conversations.

Somewhere on the road, an ex-US citizen named Lori dropped in and deduced that my knee was in intense pain.

I’d resigned myself to the prospect that it might take 7-8 hours to reach Estella.

I conjured Tich Nhat Hahn and the art of mindful walking. If I had to go slow, I might as well go Buddhist-style.

Then Lori started walking and talking. Good conversation makes the time pass swiftly, she observed. She also came bearing Percocet.

She stayed with me well into Estella. I broke off to find my hostel, she headed toward her husband and the family camper van, parked just outside of town.

Lori isn’t in to rescuing people but she’s damned good at it. Yesterday, she helped a young German girl find a bed for the night.

Today, I’m trying different shoes. And more Percocet.

Today, I found a laundromat and I feel so pure and clean. I celebrated the rebirth with a steaks and egg plate in one of the city squares.

All and all, a great day.