The walk into Granon is like any other walk into one of those Spanish villages which tend to be situated on a hill and with the church playing prominence on the rural landscape:
But Granon is somehow special and I am certain there must be a Ley line creating the magic atmosphere, in this otherwise very normal and inconspicuous village.
If you choose to stay here then I definitely recommend heading to the (donativo albergue) Hospital de Peregrinos San Juan Bautista:
To reach it, simply turn left after the church:
You will then spot the main door entrance:
You then climb the stone spiral staircase until you reach the place where boots are no longer welcome:
I was then met by Jason, a lovely Hospitalero from the USA who married a Spanish woman and moved to Spain to live. One of the first things which he said to me was that they don’t provide a pilgrim stamp at the albergue, but what they do provide is a hug. He hugged me. I felt a weight drop from my soul. Jason and the Spanish guy who were the Hospitalero yesterday:
This albergue is a donativo, so if staying here then do please give at least a few euro so that the system can continue to work. Of course, if you are completely strapped for cash then you may take from the donativo box and they do say and write Give what you can or take what you need.
I took the following photos of the washing, sleeping, common room, kitchen facilities:
There was a terribly out of tune piano in the common room – an immediate disappointment – but there was a well-tuned Spanish guitar and (very uncharacteristically of me) I played and sang as if no-one was watching or listening (Dizzy Miss Lizzy) while dinner was being prepared.
At around 7pm we had our evening meal and I shared a table with the two Dutch women whom I met a few nights before. I liked them and we had a good chat. Good people, but terribly flirtatious 🙂
The food was surprisingly excellent, the atmosphere also:
The view from the common room window:
Granon street view:
I had an almost normal sleep – except for the odd snore here and there and of course the crack of dawn rude awakening of other pilgrims getting themselves prepared for the day ahead – and just after 7am I walked up and out of Granon, feeling strangely very similar to how I had felt last year: