Class on the Camino
Walking along the wooded edge of a farmer’s field, I emerged into Puente La Reina at the edge of town. There, after a long day walking from Pamplona, stood my destination. The Hotel Jakue, a large, squat structure with a rustic charming feel, rose from behind the trees marking the start of the village. I walked around to the front and noticed an entrance into a separate albergue attached to the side of the hotel. I passed it by, proceeding to the inn’s entrance.
Let me explain something at this point: I am of such an age, desiring a bit more privacy than the younger pilgrims (and at the time I was lucky enough to have the funds), that I procured relatively cheap reservations in private lodges throughout my walk. Many were associated with hostels, and usually the crowds from both mixed pretty much freely.
I entered the hotel and moved across a relatively busy lobby to the reservation desk. Checking in, the receptionist gave me a key and said that there were laundry facilities in the basement if I desired them, but to make sure I brought my key with me because I could not get back upstairs without it. I chucked my bag in my room, took a shower, and went down to the lobby to hang out before dinner. I threw myself into a comfortably cushioned chair that sat next to a couch with two young woman sitting on it. We soon introduced ourselves; they were from Canada and were also walking the Camino.
“Most of us are kept downstairs,” one of them said.
“What do you mean?”
“Look around. If you check in to the hostel, you’re not allowed in the rest of the hotel.”
The other chimed in: “You can go to the restaurant — though I get the sense that management frowns on it. If pilgrims do go to dinner here, they have to use a separate staircase. They’re not allowed to use the lobby or the front entrance.”
“Is that why the front desk said I’d need my key to go downstairs..?”
“Yeah, the elevators are locked. Without a key, you’re not allowed up.”
“Wow. It’s like being on the Titanic or something,” I said, thinking of the class distinctions on that ship. “I hope we don’t sink.”
I went in to dinner, then went back up to my room to relax, exiting through the back of the restaurant. On my way, I passed by a narrow stairway going down with a sign and an arrow pointing below.
“Pilgrims, this way.”
Feeling like I was betraying them, I turned in the opposite direction.