On our way to Burgos, we visited yet another beautiful, very old church by the name of San Juan de Ortega. As we walk along the Camino, almost every town we walk through has a very old, very beautiful church. The church of San Juan was unique for the presence of a burial sculpture in its center.
We did not learn much about this church and really only visited it in passing on our way to the archaeological site at Atapuerca. The site is home to several caves that were discovered by a British company that was trying to build a highway through the area. The caves had filled up long ago with sediment, and had been hidden by the grass that grew over the whole hillside. The caves were distinguishable because the sediment had turned into sandstone, while the rest of the hillside was limestone. The site has yielded evidence of human ancestors using tools as far back as 800,000 years ago. Later that day, we got to go to the museum of evolution as a follow-up to the archaeological site. At the museum were the valuable discoveries of the site, as well as life-size creations of what we estimate our ancestors to look like. It was so fascinating to see all the little details that the researchers could infer from the skulls and teeth that they had discovered, and I think we all agreed that more time in the museum would have been to our liking.
After visiting the archaeological site, there was a short walk into Burgos. The Camino takes you right to the cathedral, which is quite astonishing sight as the narrow streets open up and the myriad spires rise before you. The architecture and artwork around this cathedral are astounding, and far too much could be said about it to fit in this post. Luckily there was not a ton of pressure on us to visit it right away, because we would be free the whole next day to explore the city. We checked into our hotel, which was nice enough to make a pilgrim feel guilty about staying there, ate some of it's food, explored the surrounding city, and generally prepared for a night on the town.
That first night we visited two bars. The first was quite popular, and at first we were not even able to enter it. Eventually, however, most of us were able to make our way to the live music, which for me was a real treat, no matter the fact that I could not understand a word of it. It consisted of two guitars, a mandolin, an upright base, and a singer who sometimes played maracas. The second bar had much more space, and it featured a dance floor on which much salsa was present. While we Americans were not anywhere close in dancing moves to the locals, they loved our desire to join in. I was taught a very basic step to use, and I used to moderate success. (This really was an act of mercy on the part of the lady who taught it to me. Thankfully, I had not been dancing too long before she saved the day.) 
The next day started with a guided tour of the Cathedral, in which we saw several of the sixteen chapels and learned about its history from our wonderful guide Gloria. Among the tons of things to see, we got to see the to be of the Cid, and immediately following our tour we heard a presentation on the Cid's life from Peter right next to a statue of the same. 
Later that evening, we were given one of the best treats we will ever get on the Camino: a live performance by a cellist who is walking the Camino with his instrument, performing as he goes. Dane Johanson is his name, and being a masterful artist is his game. In all seriousness, it was a very moving performance. It took place in the old church of San Nicolas, and he played 10 Bach cello solos, rounding off with a killer solo written by a Spanish composer. 
Before I sign off on our eventful time in Burgos, I want to relate a story whose only familiar character is myself.

Patrick's Clerical Error That afternoon, I took advantage of the time to explore. I set off on my own, intending to see some castle ruins, but eventually discovered I had tuned off my intended path and was much further south than I wanted to be. Making my way northwards again, I looked up from my map to discover that I had obliviously walked by a well-preserved building of white stone. Upon studying my map, I ascertained that it was the Archbishop's Palace. Being that it was a historic building like many such labeled sites of interest, I assumed that its open front door meant that it was open for visiting. (This is the practice with other old buildings like churches.) 
As I walked in, I saw a little library and not much else of interest. I looked in the library, but all the books were in Spanish so I prepared to leave. As I walked out, I noticed an elevator, and I thought, "You won't find anything if you don't explore," so went in the elevator. There were 3 other floors, but two required a key to to access. Obviously, the third (to the second floor) was a viable option. My keen sense of adventure had not led me astray: the upstairs looked as if it had been well preserved, with inlaid wood flooring and a beautiful stained-glass window shining down on a sweeping stone staircase. 
As I took pictures of this scene (which did not turn out), I heard the creaking of that inlaid wood floor behind me, signaling that another being approached. I turned around only to encounter a burst of Spanish and a man with a clerical collar. That same moment the receptionist/librarian from the floor below came out of the elevator at a hurried shuffle. I immediately caught on that I was not supposed to be where I was (aided by the receptionist's finger waving, but, understanding nothing else of what was being said, I quickly raised both hands in surrender and said, "Hablo Ingles." 
At this the cleric burst out laughing. "No Hablo Enspanol?" he asked with a chuckle. I shook my head and he laughed some more, clapping me on the back in a friendly way. The cleric confirmed my growing suspicion by trying to explain informing me in Spanish that the place was indeed the Archbishop's palace. I was very happy for his good humor, and readily followed the not-laughing receptionist down the stairs and back through the library. Intead of going straight to the frot door as i expected, she led me to a little chaple. After praying a bit, I got up to leave, and thought I would ask if they had a stamp for my pilgrim's passport. To my disappointment, I could not leave with that memento of my adventure, but I did have a wonderful story to tell.