During my first Camino, I had a majorly shitty day coming from Puente La Reina. It was only day four, so my body was still adjusting to the walking and coming down from the Pyrenees had done a number on my foot. In addition, some pilgrims had decided to party deep into the night and sleep wasn’t a friend until very late, leading to me getting up late.
My head was hurting, my feet too, and the weather was warm but muggy.
In Villatuerta I made the conscious decision to find the next available albergue, drop my stuff, and go to sleep. That albergue was the Casa Magica.
There were hammocks, a pop-up pool, a meditation room, and everyone was calm, relaxed, and friendly. Rather than hitting the hay, I found myself in the yard, discussing Midsommar with some Swedes, food with a few Frenchmen, and having a beer with a Grandmother from Spain.
At some point, the bell rang and dinner was served. Four courses, all vegetarian, with a massive paella as the main course.
I left much, much, happier than I’d arrived.
I stopped twice more. Every time, Casa Magica made me happy. The owner was friendly, the food was amazing, the people stopping there were the kind that did not just power through a guidebook’s stage recommendations, and besides, it was the stop before the wine fountain, which added some extra bonuses since Casa Magica sleepers arrived out of cycle and didn’t have to wait as long.
The Casa is for sale. Another victim of the pandemic, I presume, or the owners simply got tired. Who knows? But the fact remains, that with the Casa another beautiful icon of the Camino disappears…