Nájera to Santo Dimingo

I have eaten well today starting with breakfast that was more than coffee and a pastry. It was so good that I have included it as my extra blip. I shared the meal with my Camino pal from Catalonian; now he knows I’m not from Corsica we converse in English. 
I didn’t leave Nájera until 8.30 which felt very restful. I had looked in vain for stork’s nest the previous evening, my prep notes mentioned it. I saw it this morning once I had crossed the river, the nests are huge, you see that first and then with luck the stork.
Coffee stop at Azofra at 6.5km, replenished my water at the village fountain, using the wrong side. A kind local pointed this out after I had taken a gulp. This was almost 9 hours ago and I feel alright. I’m sure countless hapless people must make the same mistake. The total population of the village is 250 and declining and almost wholly dependent on the Camino. In medieval times there were two pilgrim hospitals here, the remains of one just visible.
The next village was Cirueña, a strangely soulless place with a golf club and new housing, very different to all the places I have walked through. Other than the golf club there was no where to take a break so I ate the remains of my breakfast sitting on a swing, and swinging obviously, in a children’s play park. I could not resist the zip wire which was much faster paced than I had anticipated, I had a second go and although my fingers were a bit sore from hanging on it had the effect of completely energising me.
The last 10k into Santo Domingo da la Calzada was a bit of slog. Miles of reasonable tracks alongside fields of cereal crops with the odd vulture hovering overhead. Like yesterday the Way was quiet and walked most of the day on my own.
I arrived at Santo Domingo around 2.00 and ate a delicious €10 lunch. Pork, red peppers, fried potatoes and chestnut ice cream. You help yourself to as much wine and/ or fizzy water as you want.
The town is full of winding streets with the Cathedral always in view so it’s impossible to get lost for long. It’s named after Saint Dominic who devoted his life in the 11th century to improving the route for pilgrims including a bridge over the river, and a pilgrim’s hospital. He was illiterate and the intelligentsia at the local monastery refused to accept his calling to be monk.
The canal which I was looking forward to crossing was a bit of a disappointment, although there were frogs. The zip wire and fizzy wine was fair compensation.