The Flight Home from my Camino.
I took the night bus from Santiago to Madrid.
I arrived at Barajas airport, early in the morning, still wearing my walking clothes. I hadn’t dared remove my walking shoes on the bus – my left foot and ankle was swollen. I was afraid I would not be able to get the shoe back on if I took it off. So I had been wearing my clothes and shoes for over 24 hours. I was wearing the same walking clothes I basically wore every day for 40 days. I made the whole trip with only one complete change of clothing in my pack,
I had anticipated shopping for clothes in Santiago and maybe even going to a beauty shop for a shampoo and cut and maybe a manicure and pedicure. But here I was in beautiful Madrid, limping around in my tattered, tired clothes.
I hadn’t expected to be so exhausted and so ready to simply be home. Don’t misunderstand – the Camino was a wonderful experience and I treasure the people I met and the experiences I had…but I was tired, tired, tired.
At Barajas I saw that my flight was delayed several hours. I let out a big sigh and then found a cup of cafe con leche to comfort me while I waited for more information. I had to connect with another flight in the USA and make two changes. My estimated arrival at the airport and hour from home would be around 2300 PM. Now a delay which would no doubt complicate my schedule.
After my coffee, I headed over to the counter to see about the status of my flight. I could see on the board that it was cancelled. I took a deep breath. I teased a smile onto my face. As I approached the counter the ticketing agent beamed at me and said: “I wondered when you would check in! I’ve been waiting for you.”
I laughed, feeling self conscious in my walking clothes and boots. Then I pointed to my Camino patch and my shell and said, “Well, I walked about 800 kilometers to get here!”
The agent smiled and proceeded to give me really delightful and unexpected news. “Well, you better walk fast, because your plane is about to take off. We’ve put you on a direct flight and upgraded you to first class! Now hurry pilgrim, hurry!”
So that is how this smelly pilgrim in her tattered walking clothes ended up flying First Class, sipping champagne and watching movies on a non-stop flight back to the USA.
There are angels everywhere.
Showing posts with label Pilgrims. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pilgrims. Show all posts
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Friday, July 03, 2009
Day 39 - Arco de Pino - Thursday, 28 May 2009
Ribadosoa -> Arco do Pino = 23K (Only 19K to go – I may be in Santiago tomorrow!)
Summer has arrived. It is hot! It’s hard to believe this 6 week adventure began with April snows in the forecast at Roncesvalles. Now in late May, sweat drips down my nose and onto my shirt.
My walking companions today (three guys from Germany) didn’t speak much so it was like walking alone. We maintained the same pace and stopped for café con leche and conversation along the way. I enjoy the steep climbs and sing even on the goat-like climbs. I feel fit. I am grateful for this – I consider what I went through recovering from surgeries back in 2005.
As I walk, so many things fly through my head. I wish I had stopped to write them down. Throughout this adventure, I have failed to stop and write. I have waited till days-end and then merely jotted down the bare bones of the trip and rarely any of the insights and lessons I have learned. At days-end, I am tired and forgetful.
I check into the albergue when it opens at 1300. When I arrived, backpacks were already lined up outside the door, designating the order of arrival. The sweaty pilgrims sat, shoes off, waiting to check in. I was among the first.
The hospitaleros give me a disposable sheet for my bottom bunk. There is a luxury here: a reading lamp built in the wall. I wish I had a book to read.
Once checked in, I cleaned up a bit. I have made-do on this trip; using bandanas as towels …cutting corners to keep the weight down. It will be so great to have real towels, nice clothes, cosmetics, shampoo & conditioner, curls, etc. It feels good to wash away all the mud. I apply some lip gloss, comb my hair (I’ve been washing my long locks with Castile soap!) and don my alternate walking clothes. I head out to find lunch.
I run into two old friends: the Flying Dutchman and the woman from New Zealand. We sit at an outdoor café and while away the hot, afternoon, siesta-hours, hoping for a breeze. It is hot and the humidity is much higher than it has been. I am so grateful I am not walking in the real heat of summer. We nurse our wine and talk about life, baring our souls in the way one does with a stranger.
At 1700, the stores open and I spend some time looking, but do not buy. I do not want anything enough to carry it, but I am drawn to all the little luxuries (scarves, cosmetics, cologne) like a kid in a candy store. I feel like a street person. I feel like a poor person. I leave the shops and walk a bit more.
These afternoons of just hanging out are difficult. There are days one cannot walk further because of the distances and days when the body will not permit it…and there is always the worry of finding a bed at an albergue. Language barriers, customs and culture and feelings of isolation can weigh heavy at times. People who walk with others may not feel this so much.
I wander into a supermercado (grocery store) and ponder what to eat for dinner. At 1930 there are pilgrim menus available at local restaurants (9 Euro) but I do not have the energy to go through the motions of dining alone in a restaurant. I buy some meat, bread, a piece of fruit and some wine and go back to the albergue.
The Asians who walk the Camino like to cook their own meals so as I walk in, the smells drift out to me. I enjoy watching them cook and share with one another. If my spouse were here, I am sure he would be cooking us a lovely meal, but I am not so inclined. On this trip, I frequently settle for yogurt or a sandwich or I stop in a bar for a racion of calamares or tortilla. I am not much of a “foodie”.
The sun beats down on the albergue. This is better than rain, I guess. I cannot imagine what walking in the summer months would be like. The alburgues would be like ovens. My sleeping bag and silk sack need airing and/or cleaning. I frequently sleep on top of my sleeping bag and use the silk bag as a modesty cover. Earlier in the trip, the sleeping bag was well used.
With only 19K to go, many pilgrims will end their pilgrimage in Santiago tomorrow. I plan to wend my way through the eucalyptus forest and stop just 4K outside town at the huge Monte de Gozo (Mount of Joy) albergue (the facility has 800 beds!). I want to arrive at the cathedral in Santiago in the cool, early morning hours on Saturday, before the city is fully awake and before the sun becomes my enemy. I also want to have the plaza fronting the cathedral to myself for a few precious moments.
I climb into bed early. I notice that two of my roommates have already gone. They slept away the afternoon and now are gone. Will they walk all night? I wonder.
I lay awake on my bunk listening to the sounds of 50 people settling in for the night. We are like cattle or chickens roosting. Each pilgrim has an evening routine or ritual. Many write under the glow from headlamps or flashlights. The man I dubbed “the Sea Lion” is among the 50 pilgrims – he has sleep apnea and snores in a frightening way. I have shared quarters with him several nights in the recent past. Many pilgrims swear by ear plugs.
I consider who among these pilgrims will be guilty of bag-rustling and noise in the wee, early morning hours. Can their evening behavior be a predictor of their morning routine?
The pilgrims who smoke emanate the odor of tobacco and smoke.
In only a few days, my albergue nights will be history. Living so closely among strangers has been an experience. Human behavior is frequently surprising, sometimes disappointing and inconvenient, but there are times when it is comforting.
It is time for this pilgrim to call it a night.
Summer has arrived. It is hot! It’s hard to believe this 6 week adventure began with April snows in the forecast at Roncesvalles. Now in late May, sweat drips down my nose and onto my shirt.
My walking companions today (three guys from Germany) didn’t speak much so it was like walking alone. We maintained the same pace and stopped for café con leche and conversation along the way. I enjoy the steep climbs and sing even on the goat-like climbs. I feel fit. I am grateful for this – I consider what I went through recovering from surgeries back in 2005.
As I walk, so many things fly through my head. I wish I had stopped to write them down. Throughout this adventure, I have failed to stop and write. I have waited till days-end and then merely jotted down the bare bones of the trip and rarely any of the insights and lessons I have learned. At days-end, I am tired and forgetful.
I check into the albergue when it opens at 1300. When I arrived, backpacks were already lined up outside the door, designating the order of arrival. The sweaty pilgrims sat, shoes off, waiting to check in. I was among the first.
The hospitaleros give me a disposable sheet for my bottom bunk. There is a luxury here: a reading lamp built in the wall. I wish I had a book to read.
Once checked in, I cleaned up a bit. I have made-do on this trip; using bandanas as towels …cutting corners to keep the weight down. It will be so great to have real towels, nice clothes, cosmetics, shampoo & conditioner, curls, etc. It feels good to wash away all the mud. I apply some lip gloss, comb my hair (I’ve been washing my long locks with Castile soap!) and don my alternate walking clothes. I head out to find lunch.
I run into two old friends: the Flying Dutchman and the woman from New Zealand. We sit at an outdoor café and while away the hot, afternoon, siesta-hours, hoping for a breeze. It is hot and the humidity is much higher than it has been. I am so grateful I am not walking in the real heat of summer. We nurse our wine and talk about life, baring our souls in the way one does with a stranger.
At 1700, the stores open and I spend some time looking, but do not buy. I do not want anything enough to carry it, but I am drawn to all the little luxuries (scarves, cosmetics, cologne) like a kid in a candy store. I feel like a street person. I feel like a poor person. I leave the shops and walk a bit more.
These afternoons of just hanging out are difficult. There are days one cannot walk further because of the distances and days when the body will not permit it…and there is always the worry of finding a bed at an albergue. Language barriers, customs and culture and feelings of isolation can weigh heavy at times. People who walk with others may not feel this so much.
I wander into a supermercado (grocery store) and ponder what to eat for dinner. At 1930 there are pilgrim menus available at local restaurants (9 Euro) but I do not have the energy to go through the motions of dining alone in a restaurant. I buy some meat, bread, a piece of fruit and some wine and go back to the albergue.
The Asians who walk the Camino like to cook their own meals so as I walk in, the smells drift out to me. I enjoy watching them cook and share with one another. If my spouse were here, I am sure he would be cooking us a lovely meal, but I am not so inclined. On this trip, I frequently settle for yogurt or a sandwich or I stop in a bar for a racion of calamares or tortilla. I am not much of a “foodie”.
The sun beats down on the albergue. This is better than rain, I guess. I cannot imagine what walking in the summer months would be like. The alburgues would be like ovens. My sleeping bag and silk sack need airing and/or cleaning. I frequently sleep on top of my sleeping bag and use the silk bag as a modesty cover. Earlier in the trip, the sleeping bag was well used.
With only 19K to go, many pilgrims will end their pilgrimage in Santiago tomorrow. I plan to wend my way through the eucalyptus forest and stop just 4K outside town at the huge Monte de Gozo (Mount of Joy) albergue (the facility has 800 beds!). I want to arrive at the cathedral in Santiago in the cool, early morning hours on Saturday, before the city is fully awake and before the sun becomes my enemy. I also want to have the plaza fronting the cathedral to myself for a few precious moments.
I climb into bed early. I notice that two of my roommates have already gone. They slept away the afternoon and now are gone. Will they walk all night? I wonder.
I lay awake on my bunk listening to the sounds of 50 people settling in for the night. We are like cattle or chickens roosting. Each pilgrim has an evening routine or ritual. Many write under the glow from headlamps or flashlights. The man I dubbed “the Sea Lion” is among the 50 pilgrims – he has sleep apnea and snores in a frightening way. I have shared quarters with him several nights in the recent past. Many pilgrims swear by ear plugs.
I consider who among these pilgrims will be guilty of bag-rustling and noise in the wee, early morning hours. Can their evening behavior be a predictor of their morning routine?
The pilgrims who smoke emanate the odor of tobacco and smoke.
In only a few days, my albergue nights will be history. Living so closely among strangers has been an experience. Human behavior is frequently surprising, sometimes disappointing and inconvenient, but there are times when it is comforting.
It is time for this pilgrim to call it a night.
Day 37 - Palas de Rei - Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Portomarin -> Palas de Rei = 26K (Only 66K to go – Wow!)
I was out of the albergue at 0715 and walked across the high bridge, trying not to look down.
It was 0900 before I found a place to stop for breakfast. I was disappointed there was no toast available. Small disappointments seem big sometimes. I really love my morning toast. (Maybe the disappointment is disproportionate because there is so little one actually has control over - expecting something as simple as a piece of toast and then being refused takes on larger meaning in that context.)
I walked through eucalyptus trees today. The perfume intoxicates me.
I stopped at the old municipal albergue (3E) in Palas de Rei about 1300. The private albergue up the street was already full, so I consider myself fortunate to have my daily bread here. (Private albergues will often take phone reservations and many pilgrims call ahead - I usually do not stay in private alburgues for a number of reasons, cost being one of them.)
The municipal albergue has a sign on the door saying it will be closed to pilgrims the next few days. I wonder if there is a local holiday. Or could it be for an annual cleaning (purging for bedbugs) before the actual tourist season begins on 1 June?
This albergue is really Spartan. It seems dirty, but it is old and old places tend to look worse. For 3 Euros, I share the room with about ten people, mostly men, and the shower arrangements are not good (no privacy). I decide to forgo my shower. I spend most of the afternoon sitting on a park bench (my leg hurts so walking is out) soaking up the spring sun.I can hear the pilgrims at the private alburgue laughing in the bar.
As I sit soaking up sun in the local plaza, a couple of pilgrims walk past with their two young daughters. The children look to be about 7 and 9. I am not sure where their Camino began actually, but I am impressed by the parent’s patience and good nature as they juggle the logistics. Just walking the Camino is no easy task.
I have heard these young girls have learned to deal with some of the attention they receive, by saying “You can take our photo if you buy us an ice cream!” A little scary actually!
Other Camino tales: The Prime Minister of Ireland recently walked the Camino along with a large group of friends. Bruce Springsteen will walk the Camino in August (2009 or 2010?). At one stop, I was told Anne Hathaway was among the pilgrims staying the night.
One of the women who runs the Pilgrim office in Santiago is getting married this weekend in Santiago. Pilgrims are invited to attend. It would be fun to participate.
The afternoon and evening stretch out before me. I have no plans and the town does not offer much diversion. My aching leg keeps me from walking much. On days like yesterday and today I wish I had carried a good novel with me. I will no doubt spend the time sitting with other pilgrims who are also biding their time till we can all sleep and wake to another day.
I was out of the albergue at 0715 and walked across the high bridge, trying not to look down.
It was 0900 before I found a place to stop for breakfast. I was disappointed there was no toast available. Small disappointments seem big sometimes. I really love my morning toast. (Maybe the disappointment is disproportionate because there is so little one actually has control over - expecting something as simple as a piece of toast and then being refused takes on larger meaning in that context.)
I walked through eucalyptus trees today. The perfume intoxicates me.
I stopped at the old municipal albergue (3E) in Palas de Rei about 1300. The private albergue up the street was already full, so I consider myself fortunate to have my daily bread here. (Private albergues will often take phone reservations and many pilgrims call ahead - I usually do not stay in private alburgues for a number of reasons, cost being one of them.)
The municipal albergue has a sign on the door saying it will be closed to pilgrims the next few days. I wonder if there is a local holiday. Or could it be for an annual cleaning (purging for bedbugs) before the actual tourist season begins on 1 June?
This albergue is really Spartan. It seems dirty, but it is old and old places tend to look worse. For 3 Euros, I share the room with about ten people, mostly men, and the shower arrangements are not good (no privacy). I decide to forgo my shower. I spend most of the afternoon sitting on a park bench (my leg hurts so walking is out) soaking up the spring sun.I can hear the pilgrims at the private alburgue laughing in the bar.
As I sit soaking up sun in the local plaza, a couple of pilgrims walk past with their two young daughters. The children look to be about 7 and 9. I am not sure where their Camino began actually, but I am impressed by the parent’s patience and good nature as they juggle the logistics. Just walking the Camino is no easy task.
I have heard these young girls have learned to deal with some of the attention they receive, by saying “You can take our photo if you buy us an ice cream!” A little scary actually!
Other Camino tales: The Prime Minister of Ireland recently walked the Camino along with a large group of friends. Bruce Springsteen will walk the Camino in August (2009 or 2010?). At one stop, I was told Anne Hathaway was among the pilgrims staying the night.
One of the women who runs the Pilgrim office in Santiago is getting married this weekend in Santiago. Pilgrims are invited to attend. It would be fun to participate.
The afternoon and evening stretch out before me. I have no plans and the town does not offer much diversion. My aching leg keeps me from walking much. On days like yesterday and today I wish I had carried a good novel with me. I will no doubt spend the time sitting with other pilgrims who are also biding their time till we can all sleep and wake to another day.
Day 36 - Portomarin - Monday 25 May 2009
Portomarin -> Portomarin = Zero K (Still 90K to go!)
“Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”
It is cold and rainy. My left shin feels stiff, sore and is swollen. I dress and put on my pack, hoping I can walk off the pain and make a short day (15K), but as I stride up the hill, through the cold rain, I realize I need to take a day off. I run into the Canadian who is suffering from blister issues and accompany him to the local medical facility to help with language challenges. (He speaks no Spanish.)
So here I am back at the albergue, sipping espresso from the vending machine while the staff mops floors around me. Outside, fog has rolled in – the lake view is almost obscured. It feels strange to be in this large, empty place.
A little about the lake: the Belesar Reservoir is a man made lake. Portomorin was nestled in a valley and was completely submerged when the reservoir was built. The old St Nickolas Church was moved, block by block to the top of the hill where it looks down on the lake. All the other buildings in town are only a few decades old. Fish swim in and out of the empty homes submerged in the vast lake.
The damp, chilly weather makes me miss my fleece. I left it behind somewhere and really haven’t missed it until now. When I am walking I keep warm enough most days.And I wear my rain poncho to help with the wind and cold.
Around 1300 I ventured out to find some groceries. I have the kitchen to myself essentially. I came home with a large ripe tomato, a bag of cheese tortellini and some wine. I also splurged on a novel to read during the rainy afternoon. There were about 5 titles in English to choose from. The book was eminently forgettable.
As I was preparing my simple repast, the Canadian appeared and joined me for lunch. He contributed a loaf of bread and conversation. He also washed the dishes. Outside the miserable rain continued.
After lunch, I showered and crawled into my upper bunk to read and nap the rainy afternoon away.
The extra day was necessary, but I was sorry to fall behind my familiar companions. I wonder who will be in Santiago when I finally arrive?
“Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”
It is cold and rainy. My left shin feels stiff, sore and is swollen. I dress and put on my pack, hoping I can walk off the pain and make a short day (15K), but as I stride up the hill, through the cold rain, I realize I need to take a day off. I run into the Canadian who is suffering from blister issues and accompany him to the local medical facility to help with language challenges. (He speaks no Spanish.)
So here I am back at the albergue, sipping espresso from the vending machine while the staff mops floors around me. Outside, fog has rolled in – the lake view is almost obscured. It feels strange to be in this large, empty place.
A little about the lake: the Belesar Reservoir is a man made lake. Portomorin was nestled in a valley and was completely submerged when the reservoir was built. The old St Nickolas Church was moved, block by block to the top of the hill where it looks down on the lake. All the other buildings in town are only a few decades old. Fish swim in and out of the empty homes submerged in the vast lake.
The damp, chilly weather makes me miss my fleece. I left it behind somewhere and really haven’t missed it until now. When I am walking I keep warm enough most days.And I wear my rain poncho to help with the wind and cold.
Around 1300 I ventured out to find some groceries. I have the kitchen to myself essentially. I came home with a large ripe tomato, a bag of cheese tortellini and some wine. I also splurged on a novel to read during the rainy afternoon. There were about 5 titles in English to choose from. The book was eminently forgettable.
As I was preparing my simple repast, the Canadian appeared and joined me for lunch. He contributed a loaf of bread and conversation. He also washed the dishes. Outside the miserable rain continued.
After lunch, I showered and crawled into my upper bunk to read and nap the rainy afternoon away.
The extra day was necessary, but I was sorry to fall behind my familiar companions. I wonder who will be in Santiago when I finally arrive?
Day 34 - Sarria - Saturday 23 May 2009
Fonfria -> Sarria (via Samos!) = 35K (Only 115K and I will be in Santiago!)
Despite the steep descent and the extra kilometers I logged on my unintentional detour through Samos, my feet are happy; the band aids are gone and no blisters remain!
The albergue I am so grateful to be in, is most pleasant. I am curled up on a couch near the fireplace in the common room, listening to new-age music and sipping tea. An exuberant kitten is playing hide and seek on the adjacent couch. (There are 8 more cats on the premises.)
Outside, thunder rumbles and a deluge of rain falls. I am glad to be warm and cozy here indoors. I arrived before the rain began. It would be difficult to walk in such a storm.
The days’ walk was lovely for the most part, but longer than I intended. At Tricastela there were two paths and somehow I took the longer route via Samos. The reward for the longer walk was the chance to see a fine 6th century Benedictine monastery with the beautiful renaissance courtyard.
Over coffee in Samos, another pilgrim tells me that I am now in the 11th stage of the Codex Calixtinus. Aymeric Picaud wrote this ancient book detailing the challenges and hardships of the pilgrimage to Santiago. Many pilgrims still use it as a guide.
The last 15K from Samos to Sarria is rural and mostly on a sealed road lined with chestnut trees and oaks. The villages seem deserted except for the large dogs (they resemble German Shepherds) who greet me as I enter each community. They wag their tails, but are a bit wary of strangers.
As I walked through the woods, I ran across the “Gypsy Boy” today (the brother of the delightful French woman who is traveling with her almost-4 year old son). He had a small encampment in the woods and was cooking a lovely lunch of bacon-wrapped meat and some vegetables over hot coals in a small fire pit he had dug beneath a tree. His look is somehow timeless and seeing him in the forest, bent over his cooking, he resembles an old painting depicting life in another century. The image is strong.
Later I see the “Gypsy Boy’s” sister and her blue-eyed boy as they pass the albergue where I am spending the night. The youngster is lured in by the chickens on the lawn. He chases after them, laughing. It is a delightful scene until the rooster, thinking his hens are in danger, attacks the child. That is the end of the fun, at least for a little while. (The documentary film crew materialized and got this adventure on film! I have not seen them since Logrono!)
As I write, the evening meal is being prepared. The smells are inviting. I suspect there will be a tortilla Espanol (a potato omlette) and Caldo Gallego (regional soup). This will be a nice change from the frequent offerings lentejas (lentils) which most albergues prepare for the pilgrim meal.
This is a private albergue, run by two generations of a family. It is a new building and is well designed and the hosts are kind and warm people. After 30 + nights in a different bed every night, I have some opinions on how to run an albergue!
Tomorrow the 100K pilgrims will begin to appear. I have about 600K under my belt now – 100K does not seem like much. But, I am not eager for it to end just yet.
Despite the steep descent and the extra kilometers I logged on my unintentional detour through Samos, my feet are happy; the band aids are gone and no blisters remain!
The albergue I am so grateful to be in, is most pleasant. I am curled up on a couch near the fireplace in the common room, listening to new-age music and sipping tea. An exuberant kitten is playing hide and seek on the adjacent couch. (There are 8 more cats on the premises.)
Outside, thunder rumbles and a deluge of rain falls. I am glad to be warm and cozy here indoors. I arrived before the rain began. It would be difficult to walk in such a storm.
The days’ walk was lovely for the most part, but longer than I intended. At Tricastela there were two paths and somehow I took the longer route via Samos. The reward for the longer walk was the chance to see a fine 6th century Benedictine monastery with the beautiful renaissance courtyard.
Over coffee in Samos, another pilgrim tells me that I am now in the 11th stage of the Codex Calixtinus. Aymeric Picaud wrote this ancient book detailing the challenges and hardships of the pilgrimage to Santiago. Many pilgrims still use it as a guide.
The last 15K from Samos to Sarria is rural and mostly on a sealed road lined with chestnut trees and oaks. The villages seem deserted except for the large dogs (they resemble German Shepherds) who greet me as I enter each community. They wag their tails, but are a bit wary of strangers.
As I walked through the woods, I ran across the “Gypsy Boy” today (the brother of the delightful French woman who is traveling with her almost-4 year old son). He had a small encampment in the woods and was cooking a lovely lunch of bacon-wrapped meat and some vegetables over hot coals in a small fire pit he had dug beneath a tree. His look is somehow timeless and seeing him in the forest, bent over his cooking, he resembles an old painting depicting life in another century. The image is strong.
Later I see the “Gypsy Boy’s” sister and her blue-eyed boy as they pass the albergue where I am spending the night. The youngster is lured in by the chickens on the lawn. He chases after them, laughing. It is a delightful scene until the rooster, thinking his hens are in danger, attacks the child. That is the end of the fun, at least for a little while. (The documentary film crew materialized and got this adventure on film! I have not seen them since Logrono!)
As I write, the evening meal is being prepared. The smells are inviting. I suspect there will be a tortilla Espanol (a potato omlette) and Caldo Gallego (regional soup). This will be a nice change from the frequent offerings lentejas (lentils) which most albergues prepare for the pilgrim meal.
This is a private albergue, run by two generations of a family. It is a new building and is well designed and the hosts are kind and warm people. After 30 + nights in a different bed every night, I have some opinions on how to run an albergue!
Tomorrow the 100K pilgrims will begin to appear. I have about 600K under my belt now – 100K does not seem like much. But, I am not eager for it to end just yet.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Day 33 - Fonfria - Friday, 22 May 2009
Vega de Valcarce -> Fonfria = 25K (Just 140.7K more!)
Entering the Fonfria, a herd of lovely, velvet-eyed, brown cows crowd me to the side of the “Main Street.” A handsome shepherd dog eyes me for a moment, sizing me up, and then passes behind me, managing his bovine charges effectively and efficiently. The shepherd smiles.
Outside the albergue door, a beautiful, large, grey stallion systematically eliminates the tall grass. I hear a rooster crow nearby and I see dogs playing across the dusty street.
“This is where I will spend the night,” I decide and smile to myself.
From inside the charming albergue, loud music pours out and as I enter the door I see the hospitalera dancing behind the bar as she makes a cup of café con leche.
"Oh yes," I think, "I am checking in!" Animals, music, dancing and cafe con leche - who could ask for more?
So here I am relaxing over a café con leche; over the mountain after a remarkable walk which, at intervals, felt like a scene out of a Disney film. Galicia is more like Ireland than what one may think of as Spain. But of course, Galicia is part of Spain. It is very clear that it was influenced by the Celts.
I climbed the mountain in the early hours arriving in Galicia as the sun came over the peaks and kissed the green, green mountainside. It is almost surreal.
Early in the day I walked through La Faba, where I stopped to catch my breath. This village would have been a lovely place to spend a night. (There is a German or possibly Dutch run albergue that feeds pilgrims from their organic garden)
I linger a bit, playing with a pair of delightful stray kittens who wrestle one another, fighting over a grease-soaked loaf of bread and a few pieces of chorizo I share with them. I resume walking.
The enchanting villages I walk through today smell of cattle and are perched on hillsides so steep the cows must have 2 long legs and 2 shorter legs in order to graze on the hillsides. The path is littered with cow manure.
When I arrive in O’Cebreiro at the peak of the mountain, fog engulfs the 9 ancient, round, stone, thatch-roofed structures (pallozas) that comprise (most of) the village. The fog adds to the mystical quality of the place. Words like amazing, haunting come to mind. I can almost believe the local legend; the 14th Century miracle about the wine and bread turning into blood and the flesh of Christ.
Once again, I wish I could stay a day or two and simply soak up the ambience of this special place. But, I am a pilgrim and I cannot tarry…pilgrims are meant to walk. As I walk, I find myself wondering is J.R Tolkien ever visited the region. It could have been the inspiration for his Hobbit-world.
I had been anxiously anticipating the challenging climb, one of the most challenging on the entire Camino. Like many things in life, the climb was somewhat anti-climactic. Many pilgrims elect to taxi or bus their way over the mountain. Others send their backpacks ahead so they can walk more easily. I did neither. I chose to walk with my backpack and found that I was exhilarated by the steep climb. My joy and excitement fuel my energy and I walk on beyond my original destination.
So here I am in the charming albergue in Fonfria. I have had a delicious hot shower (in a private bathroom) and I washed my long hair with borrowed shampoo. I am sitting in a sunny courtyard letting my hair dry in the breeze and sipping sidra (apple cider) with a group of fellow pilgrims. There is lots of laughter and conversation (despite language barriers). The German man with the cowboy hat (I dubbed him “Herr Gummi-schuhe”) is so funny. My Irish friend (S.) and the Danish woman who lives in Spain, my friend from Finland, the delightful woman from New Zealand and many other pilgrims while away the late afternoon together.
It is hard to imagine that my pilgrimage will soon come to an end. I push that thought aside and stay in the happy present.
Entering the Fonfria, a herd of lovely, velvet-eyed, brown cows crowd me to the side of the “Main Street.” A handsome shepherd dog eyes me for a moment, sizing me up, and then passes behind me, managing his bovine charges effectively and efficiently. The shepherd smiles.
Outside the albergue door, a beautiful, large, grey stallion systematically eliminates the tall grass. I hear a rooster crow nearby and I see dogs playing across the dusty street.
“This is where I will spend the night,” I decide and smile to myself.
From inside the charming albergue, loud music pours out and as I enter the door I see the hospitalera dancing behind the bar as she makes a cup of café con leche.
"Oh yes," I think, "I am checking in!" Animals, music, dancing and cafe con leche - who could ask for more?
So here I am relaxing over a café con leche; over the mountain after a remarkable walk which, at intervals, felt like a scene out of a Disney film. Galicia is more like Ireland than what one may think of as Spain. But of course, Galicia is part of Spain. It is very clear that it was influenced by the Celts.
I climbed the mountain in the early hours arriving in Galicia as the sun came over the peaks and kissed the green, green mountainside. It is almost surreal.
Early in the day I walked through La Faba, where I stopped to catch my breath. This village would have been a lovely place to spend a night. (There is a German or possibly Dutch run albergue that feeds pilgrims from their organic garden)
I linger a bit, playing with a pair of delightful stray kittens who wrestle one another, fighting over a grease-soaked loaf of bread and a few pieces of chorizo I share with them. I resume walking.
The enchanting villages I walk through today smell of cattle and are perched on hillsides so steep the cows must have 2 long legs and 2 shorter legs in order to graze on the hillsides. The path is littered with cow manure.
When I arrive in O’Cebreiro at the peak of the mountain, fog engulfs the 9 ancient, round, stone, thatch-roofed structures (pallozas) that comprise (most of) the village. The fog adds to the mystical quality of the place. Words like amazing, haunting come to mind. I can almost believe the local legend; the 14th Century miracle about the wine and bread turning into blood and the flesh of Christ.
Once again, I wish I could stay a day or two and simply soak up the ambience of this special place. But, I am a pilgrim and I cannot tarry…pilgrims are meant to walk. As I walk, I find myself wondering is J.R Tolkien ever visited the region. It could have been the inspiration for his Hobbit-world.
I had been anxiously anticipating the challenging climb, one of the most challenging on the entire Camino. Like many things in life, the climb was somewhat anti-climactic. Many pilgrims elect to taxi or bus their way over the mountain. Others send their backpacks ahead so they can walk more easily. I did neither. I chose to walk with my backpack and found that I was exhilarated by the steep climb. My joy and excitement fuel my energy and I walk on beyond my original destination.
So here I am in the charming albergue in Fonfria. I have had a delicious hot shower (in a private bathroom) and I washed my long hair with borrowed shampoo. I am sitting in a sunny courtyard letting my hair dry in the breeze and sipping sidra (apple cider) with a group of fellow pilgrims. There is lots of laughter and conversation (despite language barriers). The German man with the cowboy hat (I dubbed him “Herr Gummi-schuhe”) is so funny. My Irish friend (S.) and the Danish woman who lives in Spain, my friend from Finland, the delightful woman from New Zealand and many other pilgrims while away the late afternoon together.
It is hard to imagine that my pilgrimage will soon come to an end. I push that thought aside and stay in the happy present.
Day 31 - Cacabelos - Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Molinaseca -> Cacabelos = 23K (189.6K remaining!)
I feel as if I am in a detainee camp. And like a detainee, I am just grateful to have a place to stay.
The dismal, concrete grounds are Spartan and shade less. Weary pilgrims sit on the curbs in the hot afternoon sun, tending their sore foot and leg injuries. Others are hard at work at the outdoor sinks, scrubbing the day’s dirt from their clothing. Wet laundry hangs on drying racks scattered around the dreary, cramped courtyard that is our temporary home.
Last night I stayed in a lovely, bright private albergue filled with potted geraniums, no bunk beds and a dining room. Tonight I am just grateful to have a bed.
Late in the afternoon, there is still a line snaking around the building and the hospitalero’s have no more beds to spare. Recent arrivals are given thin pallets and are going to sleep in the communal area – outdoors! (I try to imagine what pilgrim life is like during the busy season!)
The albergue is a municipal one, associated with a church. Tiny cell-like rooms line the walls around the churchyard. Inside each dark, dank cell are two beds (privacy). There are no locks on the doors, but anyone walking past the closed door could lock inhabitant in. This makes me uncomfortable.
I look at the map and see that there will be a steady climb, climb, climb in the near future. Of course climbs are usually followed by descents and this one is a quick, steep one. (From 400 meters -> 1300 meters and then down: 1285 meters -> 665 meters in just under 7 kilometers!) Pilgrims on the Camino learn quickly that descents are often much more of a challenge than the climbs.
On my walk today I saw many lovely sights; sights worthy of photographing. Since my camera batteries were dead, I took mental pictures of the following:
• A skinny donkey and a skinny farmer plowing a rocky field.
• A nest of black cats snuggled together, taking a siesta inside an old tire.
• Abundant, colorful blooms spilling out of a window box.
• An elderly man walking his cow as if it was a dog.
• A fabulous castle (Ponferrada) that conjured up dreams of knights of old.
• Wine fields spanning the rolling hills with a Mordor-like mountain looming beyond.
I had anticipated walking further today (7K more) but banking and buying batteries slowed me down. Sometimes simple tasks take longer when one is on the road. I had to go to a couple ATMs in order to get cash. I am always afraid the machines will retain my card, so each time I was refused cash, I elected to try a different ATM.
I also lingered a bit in Ponferrada where I ran into M. (a delightful fellow-pilgrim and photographer from NYC/London). M. and I met unexpectedly at the corner in front of the beautiful castle, as if by pre-arrangement. It is always a joy to see a familiar face, so I was glad to see my friend again (he pops up every so often, like a guardian angels of sorts!).
We had breakfast and good conversation before taking a few photos of the old Knights Templar castle. (I wish I had stayed overnight in Ponferrada so I could have time to really explore the castle and the rest of this old mining town.) Then we resumed our walk, this time together. Ponferrada is urban, so the walk across town and out into the countryside took a while. We walked and talked for a few hours.
Eventually I left him my friend behind. In the end, each pilgrim must walk their own pace.
Dinner tonight was fun. I dined with S. (a young, irreverent Irish woman with a Gaelic name) and her current walking companions, a group of Italian men who are traveling together. We dined on a decent pilgrim menu at a local bar: typical stuff, but really well prepared. The homemade flan was the best I have ever tasted and the serving size was enormous!
It is time for this pilgrim to douse the light and dream about the days to come.
I feel as if I am in a detainee camp. And like a detainee, I am just grateful to have a place to stay.
The dismal, concrete grounds are Spartan and shade less. Weary pilgrims sit on the curbs in the hot afternoon sun, tending their sore foot and leg injuries. Others are hard at work at the outdoor sinks, scrubbing the day’s dirt from their clothing. Wet laundry hangs on drying racks scattered around the dreary, cramped courtyard that is our temporary home.
Last night I stayed in a lovely, bright private albergue filled with potted geraniums, no bunk beds and a dining room. Tonight I am just grateful to have a bed.
Late in the afternoon, there is still a line snaking around the building and the hospitalero’s have no more beds to spare. Recent arrivals are given thin pallets and are going to sleep in the communal area – outdoors! (I try to imagine what pilgrim life is like during the busy season!)
The albergue is a municipal one, associated with a church. Tiny cell-like rooms line the walls around the churchyard. Inside each dark, dank cell are two beds (privacy). There are no locks on the doors, but anyone walking past the closed door could lock inhabitant in. This makes me uncomfortable.
I look at the map and see that there will be a steady climb, climb, climb in the near future. Of course climbs are usually followed by descents and this one is a quick, steep one. (From 400 meters -> 1300 meters and then down: 1285 meters -> 665 meters in just under 7 kilometers!) Pilgrims on the Camino learn quickly that descents are often much more of a challenge than the climbs.
On my walk today I saw many lovely sights; sights worthy of photographing. Since my camera batteries were dead, I took mental pictures of the following:
• A skinny donkey and a skinny farmer plowing a rocky field.
• A nest of black cats snuggled together, taking a siesta inside an old tire.
• Abundant, colorful blooms spilling out of a window box.
• An elderly man walking his cow as if it was a dog.
• A fabulous castle (Ponferrada) that conjured up dreams of knights of old.
• Wine fields spanning the rolling hills with a Mordor-like mountain looming beyond.
I had anticipated walking further today (7K more) but banking and buying batteries slowed me down. Sometimes simple tasks take longer when one is on the road. I had to go to a couple ATMs in order to get cash. I am always afraid the machines will retain my card, so each time I was refused cash, I elected to try a different ATM.
I also lingered a bit in Ponferrada where I ran into M. (a delightful fellow-pilgrim and photographer from NYC/London). M. and I met unexpectedly at the corner in front of the beautiful castle, as if by pre-arrangement. It is always a joy to see a familiar face, so I was glad to see my friend again (he pops up every so often, like a guardian angels of sorts!).
We had breakfast and good conversation before taking a few photos of the old Knights Templar castle. (I wish I had stayed overnight in Ponferrada so I could have time to really explore the castle and the rest of this old mining town.) Then we resumed our walk, this time together. Ponferrada is urban, so the walk across town and out into the countryside took a while. We walked and talked for a few hours.
Eventually I left him my friend behind. In the end, each pilgrim must walk their own pace.
Dinner tonight was fun. I dined with S. (a young, irreverent Irish woman with a Gaelic name) and her current walking companions, a group of Italian men who are traveling together. We dined on a decent pilgrim menu at a local bar: typical stuff, but really well prepared. The homemade flan was the best I have ever tasted and the serving size was enormous!
It is time for this pilgrim to douse the light and dream about the days to come.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Day 29 - Foncebadon - Monday, 18 May 2009
Astorga -> Foncebadon = 25K (231K to Santiago!)
“There are no beds,” said the hospitalero without raising his eyes.
“What?” I responded in disbelief and my voice quavering.
Here I am exhilarated from the climb up to the highest populated village in Spain and suddenly hearing that there are no beds available in this tiny, isolated village.
It is only 1500 – how can the albergue be full?
His words are especially devastating because I had already heard the same message in the other albergue in town. The next village is over another peak, about 5K away. It is a primitive place with no water and no electricity (kind of a hippie compound). And what if it is full?
I try not to let my panic show.
Behind me, another woman, speaks up. “Can we just sleep on the floor?” she says.
The German hospitalero stares at us, as if assessing us and then disappears for a few minutes. He returns with good news. He has found an open bunk for me and my friend can sleep on a mattress on the floor.
I say a prayer of gratitude and smile. I have someplace to sleep tonight!
I shower and sit on the porch, drying my long locks in the dying afternoon sun. A dog (looking dead) sleeps in the middle of the road. Kittens dart in and out of the tumbled down slate buildings that used to be homes in another era. I hear the cattle lowing, their bells ringing as they graze on the steep hillsides. The village is above tree level. The peaks surrounding the community are snow-capped.
This albergue is church run. There is a modest communal meal in the small dining room. The air is cold. I will be glad for my sleeping bag tonight. I’ve lost my fleece so I hope it will not be too cold in the morning.
In my opinion, people who stay in public albergues when they “do” the Camino have a vastly different experience than those individuals who stay in private accommodations (where you can make reservations). The logistics of finding an albergue can interfere with the delights (or challenges) of the daily walk.
And once a bed is confirmed, there are still the demands of sharing space and services. Diverse languages, nationalities, customs and courtesies add to the soup. Not only is there a concern about finding a bed after a day of walking, there is the communal experience that extends beyond simply dining together. I am seldom alone in the albergues. There is nominal, if any privacy.
Tomorrow I will see the Cruz de Ferro, visit Majarin where Sir Thomas rings a bell whenever a pilgrim enters his village (population 1). But now, I shall sleep.
I have a bed and I am very grateful for that. And for so much more. Life is good.
[Batteries dead in camera for two days - no photos...will get batteries in next real town I'm in.]
“There are no beds,” said the hospitalero without raising his eyes.
“What?” I responded in disbelief and my voice quavering.
Here I am exhilarated from the climb up to the highest populated village in Spain and suddenly hearing that there are no beds available in this tiny, isolated village.
It is only 1500 – how can the albergue be full?
His words are especially devastating because I had already heard the same message in the other albergue in town. The next village is over another peak, about 5K away. It is a primitive place with no water and no electricity (kind of a hippie compound). And what if it is full?
I try not to let my panic show.
Behind me, another woman, speaks up. “Can we just sleep on the floor?” she says.
The German hospitalero stares at us, as if assessing us and then disappears for a few minutes. He returns with good news. He has found an open bunk for me and my friend can sleep on a mattress on the floor.
I say a prayer of gratitude and smile. I have someplace to sleep tonight!
I shower and sit on the porch, drying my long locks in the dying afternoon sun. A dog (looking dead) sleeps in the middle of the road. Kittens dart in and out of the tumbled down slate buildings that used to be homes in another era. I hear the cattle lowing, their bells ringing as they graze on the steep hillsides. The village is above tree level. The peaks surrounding the community are snow-capped.
This albergue is church run. There is a modest communal meal in the small dining room. The air is cold. I will be glad for my sleeping bag tonight. I’ve lost my fleece so I hope it will not be too cold in the morning.
In my opinion, people who stay in public albergues when they “do” the Camino have a vastly different experience than those individuals who stay in private accommodations (where you can make reservations). The logistics of finding an albergue can interfere with the delights (or challenges) of the daily walk.
And once a bed is confirmed, there are still the demands of sharing space and services. Diverse languages, nationalities, customs and courtesies add to the soup. Not only is there a concern about finding a bed after a day of walking, there is the communal experience that extends beyond simply dining together. I am seldom alone in the albergues. There is nominal, if any privacy.
Tomorrow I will see the Cruz de Ferro, visit Majarin where Sir Thomas rings a bell whenever a pilgrim enters his village (population 1). But now, I shall sleep.
I have a bed and I am very grateful for that. And for so much more. Life is good.
[Batteries dead in camera for two days - no photos...will get batteries in next real town I'm in.]
Day 28 - Astorga - Sunday, 17 May 2009
Astorga (256K to Santiago!)
The days and nights are filled with ups and downs; some are emotional while others are physical.
I did not really enjoy my experiences in Leon. It is a beautiful city and there were lovely moments, but as in Burgos, in Leon I found myself feeling like an outsider, like a homeless person. I struggled with my attitude during my short stay there. I was exhausted.
I am quite glad to leave the city behind me, just an image in my metaphorical rear-view mirror.
I am now miles and miles down the road now and journaling again. My spirits are better.
Today was a lovely walking day. I found myself striding along with a couple delightful young women. (One is a soldier in UK and the other a Yale graduate originally from Romania). We sang silly songs and laughed a lot. It was healing for me.
As I head west, the terrain changes. I am reminded of the forest in the film “The Big Fish”.
The albergue is pleasant. There are about ten people per room. I have a wonderful view from my upper bunk – the city of Astorga stretches out in the valley outside my window and the moon shines in, lighting the notebook I am writing in. My suitemates include three people from Slovakia who just started their Camino in Leon – they are dealing with foot issues and overweight packs. There is a delightful Dutch man and a Danish woman and a German woman plus my two walking partners of the day.
When we returned from dinner tonight we were all in a crazy mood – lots of laughing and sharing stories, long after the lights went out. Just when we were dozing off the very tall Dutch man fell from the upper bunk, making us all laugh. He became known as the Flying Dutchman. We were all like children at a slumber party.
Tomorrow, I will climb one of the two most challenging mountains on this journey. Tomorrow, I will write from the top of the mountain.
The days and nights are filled with ups and downs; some are emotional while others are physical.
I did not really enjoy my experiences in Leon. It is a beautiful city and there were lovely moments, but as in Burgos, in Leon I found myself feeling like an outsider, like a homeless person. I struggled with my attitude during my short stay there. I was exhausted.
I am quite glad to leave the city behind me, just an image in my metaphorical rear-view mirror.
I am now miles and miles down the road now and journaling again. My spirits are better.
Today was a lovely walking day. I found myself striding along with a couple delightful young women. (One is a soldier in UK and the other a Yale graduate originally from Romania). We sang silly songs and laughed a lot. It was healing for me.
As I head west, the terrain changes. I am reminded of the forest in the film “The Big Fish”.
The albergue is pleasant. There are about ten people per room. I have a wonderful view from my upper bunk – the city of Astorga stretches out in the valley outside my window and the moon shines in, lighting the notebook I am writing in. My suitemates include three people from Slovakia who just started their Camino in Leon – they are dealing with foot issues and overweight packs. There is a delightful Dutch man and a Danish woman and a German woman plus my two walking partners of the day.
When we returned from dinner tonight we were all in a crazy mood – lots of laughing and sharing stories, long after the lights went out. Just when we were dozing off the very tall Dutch man fell from the upper bunk, making us all laugh. He became known as the Flying Dutchman. We were all like children at a slumber party.
Tomorrow, I will climb one of the two most challenging mountains on this journey. Tomorrow, I will write from the top of the mountain.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Day 24 - Sahugun - Thursday, 14 May 2009
Ledigos -> Sahugun = 17K (365K remaining!)
I am penning this in the sunny Plaza Mayor in Sahugun. I am wearing my windbreaker because the spring breezes are still chilly here. In my scruffy clothes and windblown hair, I feel like a homeless person (which in a way I am). I am whiling away the hours, waiting till 1600 or so when I hope to connect with friends who live on this very plaza. I don’t have their address or their phone number, but I have been in touch online. They are in Leon for the day. So, for a couple hours I am living on a park bench.
During siesta, there is not much to do. I spent some time and 2 Euros at the Café Zentral catching up on e-mail. I snacked on tortilla and tinto (red wine). And now here I am, basking in the sun on my very own park bench.
My day started later than usual. I left the Ledigos albergue around 0720. Temperatures had dropped and the prairie wind was quite strong. The sky quickly became blue and the waving, green wheat captivated me as I walked along. At 3K I stopped for breakfast at a bar in Terradillos de los Templarios. I was delighted when a frisky kitten proceeded to hop up on my lap and snuggle down for a nap. (Spanish cats often tend to be a bit aloof or suspicious). A second kitten arrived. I had a hard time making myself leave the cozy scene.
I walked on (another 3.5K) to Moratinos where I was met at the fountain just before town. An e-mail buddy (and former Air Force brat) was sitting there with one of her dogs. (She’s an Ex-Pat and has a home here in sunny Spain) My friend and I walked up the rise to the village where we were met by her beloved spouse and dog #2. They swept me into their cozy kitchen and plied me with coffee and cookies. Her mother was visiting from the USA. After days of communal life (barracks living!) it was a delight to sit in a kitchen and sip American coffee, chat in English, and have a sense of “normal” for a bit. I even felt a little homesick for my girlhood days in Iowa, gathered around the kitchen table with my sisters and my own mother. A little touch of home for a lonely, tired pilgrim!
My friend's offered me a bed for the night and ohhhh was it tempting. A lazy, relaxed day among kindred spirits would be a good thing. But, I graciously declined and pressed on. (Frankly, I am always a bit disbelieving when people offer me a bed or an invitation – I turn shy and feel unworthy. My social skills are bad – I seldom “look people up when I’m in town” … heck I hardly even call my own daughter!) I lingered a while, but when some other pilgrims showed up, I took the opportunity to depart. It was a delightful stop and I am grateful to have had a few hours with them. I would like to know them all better.
So, now I am in Sahugun, a lively town in a rural area. The plaza where I wait and on which my friends live, is bordered with 14 trees. At this time of year the tops of the trees are trimmed back severely. In the heat of summer they will provide a lovely canopy, but now they appear misshapen and distorted (to an American’s eyes). There is a fountain at the end of the plaza and on the opposite end is a bandstand. A few pigeons splash in the fountain. Around the plaza are numerous inviting cafes, bars and shops under an arcade. On summer days, no doubt, tables and chairs and people spill out into the main plaza.
2300 – Time for Bed
I am full of rich food and pleasant conversation and now it is time for me to sleep. What a luxury to have a room to myself. Though I will be up early and walking tomorrow, it is still a great pleasure to have a room to myself.
My friends here in Sahugun winded and dined me and made me feel comfortable. I laughed and enjoyed good conversation. I am grateful to them for being such gentle hosts. I met my hosts back in Santa Fe when I was planning my Camino adventure - they were veterans and shared their wisdom and regaled me with stories. So what a delight to stay at the flat in Spain!
It has been a joy to visit with friends today. It also reminds me of how lonely and physically demanding days on the pilgrimage can be. The contrast is stark.
I say a prayer of gratitude and turn out the light on another day in sunny Spain, a happy day spent among friends.
Day 23 - Ledigos - Wednesday, 13 May 2009
Carrion de las Condes -> Ledigos = 24K (382K to go!)
Today I knocked out 24K. I had hoped to reach Terradillos de los Templarios, but stopped in Ledigos. The first 17-18K was long; no villages, flat and shadeless. I started walking at 0640, after breakfast in a local bar and arrived in Calzadilla de las Cuerza by 1000. I pressed on for another 6K and stopped at Ledigos, hoping to find tortilla. No tortilla available in this deserted, rural bar. As I sat there I realized my feet hurt and decided to simply call it a day and check in. I could simply relax and rest a bit and press on tomorrow. I called Mark and asked him to contact a Christian Science Practitioner for help me with my feet.
The terrain is flat, but challenges most pilgrims. Just before Ledigos I watched a grown man fall to his knees and weep at the pain he was experiencing in his legs. The sealed roads are as bad as the rocky ones.
The albergue is basic, a bit run down actually, but it is sunny and warm and birds are singing. I am fatigued I guess. I did not sleep well last night (I shared the room with a snorer/farter who also spent an hour in the middle of the night rummaging through his pack while wielding a flashlight and muttering to himself in French. He left the hallway door open when he banged around in the toilet adjacent to our room – not complaining, just observing!)
At 1500 I munched down the sandwich I made yesterday (turkey and cucumbers) and soaked up the sun a bit. I showered and washed my hair (using a bar of soap). The breeze is drying my hair.
Earlier I walked around town a bit…it is small. There are no shops. The only sounds are the chatter of wild birds, bees humming and the occasional crowing of a rooster who lives behind closed doors on the featureless Plaza Mayor. I can hear the prairie winds rush past my ears. It is so quiet here. Not a car on the streets nor any people. It is siesta time, but even in the evenings most of these tiny towns are devoid of life – like movie sets after the film crew has departed. They are like the small, dying towns in the heartland of the USA. The young people are long gone and only aged parents people these villages. Finally I hear a dog bark. No cats in evidence here and no flowers in this harsh small town.
I am hungry for a novel or good conversation.
It would be lovely to pace my walking in such a way that I could stop for a leisurely lunch at around 1400 and then continue walking later in the day. Unfortunately, the albergues fill up rapidly. So pilgrims tend to walk early (to avoid the heat) and to stop for the day at around 1300-1400. This leaves time for laundering clothes, journaling, getting supplies and dining.
I love walking early, under the setting moon watching the purple skies lighten and hearing birds starting their daily chorus. The first stop is at 0800 most days. I down a sweet café con leche and toast with butter and marmalade. I stop again for late breakfast at about 1000. By then I have walked about 4 hours (12-20K under my belt already). I am not in a hurry. I love mornings and I walk along briskly and happily most days.
It is hard to imagine walking through this region after 1300. The sun drains me and any humidity would make it even more challenging. How do the summer pilgrims survive?
I am, frankly, ready for a break. I am a bit worn out and tired of the 24/7 public nature of pilgrim life. I should check into a hostel and treat myself to some privacy and a day of leisure.
In just 19 days I will be in Madrid (or on my way there). I’ll begin my journey back to life – back from the setting sun.
I struck up conversation with a young couple from Finland. They are tired and angry with one another…chafing. They ask me to listen as they speak, to be a referee. They break up as I watch. She puts him in a taxi cab – it is like a scene from a “tele-novela” (soap opera). I spend the remainder of the day and evening listening to the young woman sorting out her feelings.
As I wearily crawl into my bunk, I hear the young woman, crouched in a corner, weeping forlornly as she whispers into her cell phone. What will the next chapter of their lives be like? Will I ever know?
Day 22 - Carrion de los Condes - Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Boadilla de Camino -> Carrion de los Condes = 26.9K (405.1K to go!)
I am staying at Santa Clarisa’s (a monastery). There are only 3 people per room here. This can mean a more restful night’s sleep than places where 50 or more people share space.
The walking began at 0630 with the full moon riding on my shoulder. I dragged in here about 1145 – about 27K. My legs feel it, but will relax before long. My feet seem to feel every rock in the road – as if they are reading Braille.
I feel a blister forming (a hot spot) and no proper band aids – the materials available (tape) require scissors so I must spend some cash on some small scissors and add them to my pack weight.
Today I bought sun protection – my face and hands are very brown now and there are lots of sunny days ahead. When I walk, I wear long pants and a long-sleeved (very light-weight) t-shirt to protect me from the sun. I also withdrew 200E from an ATM.
The next few days require long walks and few opportunities to get supplies, so I must plan accordingly. There are few villages and they do not always have stores or bar or banks. In the days of yore, pilgrims could find supplies. The advent of private vehicles has changed rural life and has an impact on the pilgrimage too.
Once again, I am the only native-English speaker in the albergue. I am achy and tired and inclined to feel a bit blue. Rain threatens and the other pilgrims, traveling in groups, seem indifferent to anyone outside their circle.
I took a nap on arrival and while I was dozing, my third roommate barged in, talking loudly to a friend down the hall. He moved my pack and continued to carry on his loud conversation though clearly I was napping only a foot away from him. Roommate etiquette on the Camino – not good!
Post-aborted-nap I went shopping. I ran into pilgrims I have met before and shared a bottle of Valdepena wine (Tres Molinos, the table-wine we used to enjoy decades ago when we lived near Madrid – now it’s only 1.5E!) An older Spanish man stopped me on the bridge and shared a pilgrimage tale with me. I listened, nodding my head and just let him talk.
I am now sitting in the setting sun, like a cat. I am in the ancient courtyard, sipping the last of the Valdepena, listening to birds settling down for the night. Classical music drifts out of the monastery. Across the courtyard French-speaking pilgrims chat.
I think about my own life. All of my adult life has been like a pilgrimage. I have moved so frequently – I meet people, engage and move on…never knowing for sure how I have influenced (or been influenced). Sometimes when I am away from home, I wake in the night, remembering home, but remembering the wrong place. In the dark I actually think: where is home? So my days and nights on the Camino are like that too.
The many languages I encounter here on the Camino make me think of the Tower of Babel. Each day I am reminded of what it means to give thanks for my daily bread (and my daily bed). As a pilgrim, I am always an outsider – sometimes included, often invisible. Language and customs and pain humble me. I am forced to reach out. I observe life and learn a lot about how NOT to be. I reach out as much as I can, but there are times (of course) when I wish someone would reach out to me.
I read the Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi (which I frequently consult as I walk). “…grant that I may not seek to be consoled as to console,…to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love…”
It is time to call it a day.
Day 21 - Boadilla de Camino - Monday, 11 May 2009
Hontanas -> Boadilla de Camino = 28K (430K to go!)
Three weeks ago I boarded the plane from the USA and headed for Spain – and in three weeks I will be on my way from Santiago de Compostela to Madrid to catch my flight back to America and home.
I am, unfortunately, NOT halfway to Santiago yet.
I am, however, making rapid progress now. Today, my happy, healthy legs and feet carried me almost 30K. Tomorrow I will probably make 25K. One note in my guide says to bank BEFORE leaving Carrion de Condes – no banks for two days. The terrain on the meseta is flat farmland, few trees or villages. This time of year it is a beautiful green blanket, but I try to imagine walking it when the blanket is golden in the heat of summer. The vast meseta is like a green sea.
The long, slow climb up to the flat meseta was early in the day and rain threatened so I donned my bold, red poncho; climbing and sweating – it was a good workout. I maintain the same pace on climbs as I do on flatland. This is not true of most of the other pilgrims I observe. Perhaps I have some mountain goat genes!
Before arriving today, I met with a flock of sheep – they flooded around me as I stood in the middle of the path, delighting at my good fortune.
I arrived at this lovely private albergue about 1400, showered, washed and hung laundry, and downed a large, delicious bowl of café con leche. Rainclouds are moving in and threatening my wet laundry.
Tonight I will sleep on the bottom bunk (most nights I choose the top bunk). The bunks last night were extremely high and I had a hard time climbing into bed. I tore my walking trousers and my tote bag in the process. At 0600, I had an even more challenging time getting out of that bunk. Even an acrobat would have called it a challenge.
Most of the day I walked alone. I like to be alone with my thoughts. I did have nice interactions with a German woman who works in the department of monuments. I see her often on the path. She is an excellent walker and always looks so poised, confident and well-turned out. I also ran into B. (the Canadian guy who stayed at Rabe the night I was there) and the woman from Atlanta (who also stayed with us at Rabe). They were both still festering from our shared night at that place.
Right now lightening is flashing and thunder is booming. The rain is pummeling the earth. Already the sidewalk outside the window looks like a river during flood season. We pilgrims are inside, sitting in the dark, thinking about the repercussions of all this rain. Half dry laundry is draped on bedposts. There will be wet clothes tomorrow and there will certainly be terrible mud to trudge through. And what if we are walking in such a storm? Miles from anything…lightening…
Eduardo, one of the albergue’s hospitaleros runs in. He is soaking wet, dripping on the floor, working to light the gas heater for us. Outside the lilac bushes bend to the ground – the wind makes everything bow and dance as it sings. The sweet smells of rain penetrate into the room. I am reminded of spring rainstorms back when I was a child in Iowa.
I seem to be the only native-English speaker in the room. The other pilgrims are Germans and Spaniards who are traveling in small groups.I am alone. Somehow I feel almost invisible among them – lonely and alone in a crowd. They do not reach out to me or include me, nor do I make an effort to initiate a conversation. I have no book and sit here, trapped by the rain, whiling away the time until dinner (hours from now) by journaling and staring out the window.
Finally the rain lets up and a weak sun emerges from behind clouds. I set out to explore this empty, bleak little village. I have a nice photo-opp, but my recalcitrant camera fails me again (it is a battery operated digital – I wanted to avoid the charging challenges, but it seems to eat batteries faster than I can replace them!). A pleasant German woman strikes up a conversation.
Later we share the pilgrim meal. Across the table are two young firefighters from Galicia. We laughed and talked and sipped wine. Favorite movies came up and I was delighted when they indicated “Princess Bride” as a favorite. Later a retired Spanish Colonel joined our conversation. He served at Torrejon de Ardoz back in the 70’s when I lived there too. So we had much to talk about. The lively conversation and camaraderie was quite a contrast to the earlier isolation during the rainstorm.
The full moon shines down on me as I make my way to my bed. The end of another delightful day on the Camino.
Day 20 - Hontanas - Sunday, 10 May, 2009 (Mother's Day)
Rabe de las Calzadas -> Hontanas = 19K (458K to go!)
The Albergue Door Opens and the Terror Begins!
If I had do-overs, I would surely make different choices concerning this albergue, but when M. (the hostess at this private albergue) initially snapped at me, I gave her the benefit of the doubt.
There is something to be said about people who are direct, I thought as I jumped up to respond to M.’s orders. And I like it when people are clear and direct. But I also expect people to be respectful of others, so when I heard M.’s sharp, demanding tone, I should have followed my gut feeling.
This woman is a bully.
And I would quickly learn that she has serious control issues.
B. and I later joked that M. was a fine example of the stereotypical controlling Catholic school director or perhaps a prison matron. I am generally the optimist and willing to give people a chance to prove themselves. I always find something good about people and rarely give into the urge to say unkind things. I am not a saint, but I do believe people generally act from their highest sense of right and people who know better, act better. So when I heard M.’s sharp tone I was fairly certain she was simply under temporary duress.
I was so wrong.
Throughout our entire stay, M. micro-managed every activity we undertook. She had many, many rules which she detailed to us during what could only be called an initial briefing. We sat for almost an hour while she asked each of us very personal questions and gave each of us unsolicited advice about our attire and our motives coupled with her own opinions.
Let me take a moment to interject a bit of information that may influence readers a bit: I am a retired US Air Force Master Sergeant. I went through a rigorous basic training and know what it is like to submit to a drill sergeant and how to put aside my feeling for the sake of a mission. I hope this information gives me some credibility when I say, this woman is like a drill sergeant gone amok! At least during my stay there.
I will refrain from detailing all the indignities we pilgrims submitted to during our stay at M.’s albergue. But not only was she a critical Cruella-deVille (101 Dalmatians), she also charged us for the privilege of being demeaned and demoralized! We paid 20E for a simple bed in a tiny bunk-filled room and a meal of lentils, accompanied by a lecture.
I cannot write about this experience in detail, because I will rant and digress.
Just trust me when I say, this was a terrible experience and I do not wish it on anyone.
[24 June 2009. I elected to NOT transcribe my detailed original notes on how we were treated at this albergue. It is still painful to relive the experience. VJP]
_____________________________
*The following is an excerpt from an e-mail I shared on a Camino newsgroup – I used some humor in my brief description of my experiences at M’s private albergue in [location deleted] but know that the experience was not amusing in the least. The 8 pilgrims who stayed that night were not treated with any dignity. I do not think there was malice intended, but our experiences there on that visit cast a shadow over our remaining days on Camino. Strong personalities and controlling behavior are difficult and can feel like bullying.
…Ahhhh yes, the "prison matron" of [name deleted].
Several times on my Camino I ran into my cellmates, er, I mean pilgrims who had shared accommodations with me on that dubious night and weeks later, they were still fuming and snorting and dealing with residual anger (and bitterness) about the experiences with the hostess (I use the term loosely). Her spouse, oddly enough, was a kindly man, filled with good humor and good stories...)
I should have known it would be bad when she initially grilled me ("Are you happy?" to which I responded, "Yes, I'm happy." She said, "You don't look happy!" I was inclined to stand up, salute and say "Yes Ma'am, I'm happy, Ma'am!" but, I refrained.) And she told me in no uncertain terms that I was not a pilgrim, but a tourist ("look at you bracelets and your long hair..these are not pilgrim ways!")
There were privacy violations (ie: she charged, with nary a knock, into the bathroom to micro-manage how one woman was managing her shower and lef tthe woman in tears!)
There was great concern about bedbugs so the woman had a very complicated system of bagging our things and lots of rules about how to conduct ourselves during our stay. One of my fellow inmates (oops, I mean travelers) broke into tear tears after a reprimand from this woman and ended up on the bench outside, sorting through her belongings. Later the woman berated one of the guests for not partaking of the wine -that individual was an AA member.
Interestingly enough, she wrote a few motivational words on my pilgrim credential.
I will share an extended version of my stay in my blog - I am slowly transcribing my notes so it will be a while. Suffice it to say, I would certainly not recommend staying at her lovely home...
Just a bit of my experience in [location deleted]... and I did not go into details because it is too painful to conjure up these memories.
Despite this, I say: life is good...
So on to Another Camino Adventure -> On the Road to Hontanas
I was on the road to Hantanas by 0630 and was a rabbit – the full moon was glorious. I walked fast. I was eager to put Rabe behind me.
I walked to San Bol, an isolated, oasis of an albergue with no electricity or running water. After mile after mile of green fields, the grove of trees at this small hippie-style albergue looks so inviting. I am still haunted by the treatment I received last night (M.’s albergue in Rabe), so it is a real delight to be treated so well here. A kind volunteer made me a cup of coffee and some toast (over an open flame and in candlelight).
Refreshed and glad to have met kind, warm people, I continue my walk to Hantanas. I walked with a wonderful Austrian man and shared stimulating conversation as we traversed the countryside. In Hontanas, we stopped for tortilla and café con leche in a charming bar on a small, crowded plaza. I decide to stay the night here.
The next few days will be through flat, hot countryside, so walking early and early stops are likely.
I am almost halfway through my magical 40 days.
As I write this I am seated on a sunny bench on the main road. Less than a foot away from me a group of curious German pilgrims stand, gaping at the ergonomic pen I am using. Do these Germans speak to me? No they stare and then speak to one another as if I am not even here. At first I do not realize it is the pen that they are puzzling over. Once I understand this, I initiate a dialogue about it. It is only then that they even speak to me. Their curiosity about the pen amused me, but not as much as the fact that they did not address me.
Daylight is fading and this pilgrim is off to find an evening meal and maybe an Internet connection. It is Mother’s Day (in the USA – Spain celebrated last week!). Perhaps there will be a pleasant surprise in my inbox!
Day 19 - Rabe de las Calzadas - Saturday, 9 May 2009
Burgos -> Rabe de las Calzadas = 11.4K (476K to go!)
1330 – On a Bench in Front of the Albergue in Rabe
No one in this lovely albergue (Burgos) was up before 0700! I’m sure it is in part due to the huge party that was going on outside our window. They were in still dancing and singing at 0500!We pilgrims could hear the hoopla, but we were locked in for the night so we could not join in. We could only peer out the window at the excitement outside.
Last night, I limped around Burgos taking it all in. (My 40K walk left me stiff and tired.)
Burgos is a beautiful city. There are many large plazas, crowded with families strolling about and sitting at outdoor tables talking. The children are all polished up and wearing lovely clothes. I found a ringside seat at a charming café on the plaza and sat sipping a light, cool white wine and eating crispy calamari (fried squid rings) while I took it all in. After people watching a while, I walked a bit and discovered a merry-go-round at a lovely park by the river. The area between the river and the cathedral is a maze of plazas, fountains and temptations (food, spirits and fashions!). I stopped outside the cathedral to watch a happy wedding party.
The women are so dressed up. And I am like a street person limping along (blisters and strained muscles) in my bedraggled walking clothes and flip flops – my crazy grey-hair flying and my face devoid of makeup. People stare. A little girl tugged on her father’s sleeve and eyed me suspiciously. The father looked at me and then pulled the child aside and quickly moved on. Is this is what it feels like to be homeless or to be a street person?Without my pilgrim backpack, I probably looked like a homeless person.
This morning, I lingered a bit in Burgos. I wanted to visit the lovely castle. It is only open on Saturdays so I was pleased to be there on a Saturday. My stiff legs balked a bit as I climbed the many, many steep stairs up, up and up. I finally arrived, only to find the castle will not open for several hours. So, I elected to head out of town and forgo the castle visit. (Perhaps I should have just stayed a second night in Burgos.)
Walking in and out of cities takes a lot longer than simply walking the Camino across the countryside. There are so many opportunities to get lost. And I did. I managed to add a few extra kilometers to my journey getting lost near a large park near the edge of town. So a late start, too much sun, sore feet and legs, not a good day for me.
As I write this, I am sitting on a bench outside the albergue in tiny Rabe de las Calzadas. It looks charming and is adjacent to the local church. The albergue does not open until 1400. This is typical of most albergues - they open at about 1400. Pilgrims begin to queue up. In busy seasons it can be really hard to get a room.
A van just raced by, horn honking, and a guy jumped out, went to window next door, slid it open and thrust 2 loaves of unwrapped bread through. Home delivery! There is no store in this town. This is how the locals get fresh bread. In the olden days there would have been a local panaderia (bakery) and small stores here. There would also, no doubt, have been a weekly open air market. These days though, people have cars and those who live in small villages must drive to the nearest city to do shopping. Just like in rural America – small towns are dying out. I hope I will find something for lunch/dinner and breakfast. I have only a Snicker bar and some M&Ms in my backpack. (I probably should have stayed a second night in Burgos to re-supply and rest!)
I stopped in here today, because my smallest toe has a large blister which I need to treat once I am inside this albergue. I plan to be up and walking tomorrow at 0600 so I can get 20K in by noon. . It is a 9K walk to the next village.
Another Pilgrim limped up. B. is a delightful Canadian man who stayed at the albergue in Villafranca when I was there. He had terrible blisters and allowed someone to administer first aid there. His feet are still sore and he plans to stay the night here too. He has a dry sense of humor and quite a wit.
Here we sit in the noonday sun waiting for the albergue to open.
[Little did we know what evil lurked behind that albergue door! vjp]
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Day 18 - Burgos - Friday, 8 May 2009
Villafranco -> Burgos = 40K (487K to go!)
I walked ten hours today. I can hardly believe I walked 40K!
The full moon was still dancing across the sky (about 0600) when I began the initial steep ascent up the Montes de Orca. It is a desolate 12K walk through oaks and conifers. Despite the trees, the path is not shaded. At the top (Alto de la Pedraja) is a cross commemorating those who died in the Spanish Civil War. I began my walk with R. but did not see her after the first hour or so of walking. I passed many pilgrims early on and then for most of the rest of the day, I saw no other pilgrims.
Walking felt good so I continued on. I felt exhilarated and filled with energy.
I decided to stop at Ages or Atapuerca (famous for prehistoric archaeological finds) and arrive in the city of Burgos on Saturday. Unfortunately, I inadvertently followed an alternate route which extended my walk by about 10K. By the time I realized my poor choice, I was too far along to go back.
So onward I trudged and made it into Burgos by about 1615. The 2 ½ hours (at day’s end) of walking around the airport and through industrial suburbs on concrete was very challenging both physically and mentally. I must admit, I felt like Wonder-Woman when I arrived at the beautiful new albergue in Burgos and the other pilgrims ooh-ed and aah-ed about my physical prowess!
I am too tired to seek out a meal – I will venture out later to eat and visit the cathedral. First a hot shower and a nap. I hope to stay in Burgos a while tomorrow and do some site-seeing. The castle perched above the city will be my first destination.
More later…
Friend Judy’s Inspirational Thoughts for my Day:
Below are a few excerpts from a chat with Elise Moore on spirituality .com. She was on a walking vacation in Mexico when she had a healing of a injury to her foot. She prayed with the Bible lesson:
Before I started to read, I was aware that I really needed a quick healing. This vacation was going to be a walking vacation, and so, as I was thinking about that, some negative thoughts began to crowd in. The sort of “what if” thoughts—and I didn’t even want to go that way.
…….. also from Science and Health, “Every step towards goodness…........is like a step towards God". And what that meant to me at that moment was, I wanted to have every step being a step more spiritual, a step toward the understanding of God and His presence and power, the understanding of divine Love.
I got up at that moment, and began walking down the beach. When I needed to, I would know that every step was toward God, toward divine Spirit, toward the power of Truth to heal. I was not going to agree with pain. As I stepped out across the road from the beach, I realized I was completely healed.
Day 17 - Villafranca de Orca - Thursday, 7 May
Belorado -> Villafranca de Orca = 11.5K (526.4K to go!)
Last night in Belorado I attended mass and the pilgrim blessing. Afterwards the priest asked (in Spanish) for volunteers to help return the icons to their proper locations. They have been out since Easter celebrations. While I was trying to decipher his Spanish, almost everyone else disappeared. People hear the word volunteer and stop listening I guess! So, the priest took R, and me by the elbow and escorted us through the serpentine streets of Belodorado to another church where he put us to work.
We were late for the group meal at the albergue but it was OK. It was called a communal meal, but really we were simply all dining at the same time and seated at tables of four as in any dining room. The meal was good and ended with a digestivo (strong liqueur, like grappa, designed to help with digestion). Baskets were circulated so pilgrims could donate money for the meal.
After a breakfast of cold bread, butter, marmalade and weak café con leche, I walked through two (or three?) small villages. One village had only 48 residents. I walked many kilometers of un-shaded, rolling farmland ending in a scary walk along the edge of a very busy highway. Large trucks whipped by, honking and kicking up dirt. I was hot and sweaty,so when I reached Villafranca de Montes de Orca I stopped for food and water. After consulting my papers, I decided to stop for the night. The next stretch of the Camino involved a steep climb and a walk of 12K to the next town (which has no stores!). One guide book describes the walk as “soul-less.” All of this at mid-day under the hot sun. Nope! I am staying the night!
Villafranca is named after the traders and others who repopulated this region during the reconquest (from the Moors). The community albergue in Villafranca is on an uninspiring (and dangerous) curve of a major road. It was a converted school. There are large windows and a nice view from the rear. The showers proved to have really hot water and room in the shower area to dress without being a dwarf with contortionist skills! I showered, did my laundry, and walked down to the only bar in town. Time for lunch. (Lunchtime in Spain is about 1400)
The bar is like a truck stop. The outside tables were flanked with about 20 big-rigs parked side-by-side. Pilgrims filled the table and sat in the dusty, parking lot passing the time. We watched local trucker downing wine and beer before they continue on the road. Familiar pilgrims faces pop up. Some people were slowed down by blisters, joints that failed, sunburn, etc. Others have picked up speed as they grow stronger. Some have learned to take buses and taxis or to ship their backpacks ahead. People play cards and while away the hours.
Most pilgrims were in bed before 9PM. The Snore-Corps (as R. named them) shared the room with us. I have shared rooms with these gents a few nights and they can really saw wood! They also like to keep the windows closed, so once again, it was humid and hot and noisy.
Friend Judy’s Christian Science Thought for the Day:
Science & Health: 514:6
Mind, joyous in strength, dwells in the realm of Mind. Mind's infinite ideas run and disport themselves. In humility they climb the heights of holiness.
Day 16 - Belorado - Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Granon -> Belorado = 16K (537.9K to go!)
1530 – Relaxing by the Pool!
I am lulled by the gentle sounds of hens caring for their babies. The albergue (run by Brazilians) has a carpet of green, inviting grass in the courtyard. There is also a swimming pool! The garden is flanked by a chicken yard. I face away from the German pilgrims drinking beer poolside and watch the chickens as well as a family of ranging rabbits.
Later I will shower and go explore the town, but for now, I sip Rioja wine (though I have left the Rioja region behind now and am in Castle-Leon) and consider moving to the pool to soak my feet in the cold, cold waters. The pool is in the sun so I linger in the shade and continue to enjoy the antics of the poultry and rabbits.
The walk today was good, but the sun was very hot. The terrain is like Nebraska or Iowa (I am from Iowa originally so I am a good judge of this and I hasten to note, this comparison is in NO way pejorative; it is merely descriptive). The countryside consists of rolling hills, farmland and there are few trees. R. and I had breakfast before leaving the albergue in Granon (rice, bread and coffee). Though we passed through three villages, there were no bars/cafes open so no bathroom breaks nor coffee breaks. We arrived, sweaty and hot, in Belorado around 1400. My current walking companion (R.) surrendered her large backpack to a van driver who drove it to this albergue. So, she did the last couple hours in the hot sun mostly unencumbered.
Last night in Granon the local church had a pilgrim mass. In a small village, the pilgrims comprise most of the people at the mass. In Granon, most of the village showed up. The priest gave us a warm blessing and then we went back to the albergue to share a communal meal for 40. I helped prepare baked apples and stayed up past “curfew” to dry dishes.
The sit-down meal consisted of lentil soup, baked apples, egg salad, bread, wine and water. More guests kept arriving so we kept adding water to the soup and chairs to the table. We all sat around one of two long tables to talk and eat together. The most common language was English, but as usual, there were no other guests from the USA. Dining on Camino can be like being at the Tower of Babel as all the pilgrims chattered away in their respective languages, reverting to English when they needed to really communicate. After our meal there were prayers in the church and each pilgrim read aloud and shared a story.
Pilgrims washed their clothes and hung them to dry up in the bell tower where the breezes made quick work of drying them. It was fun to hear the bells toll in such close proximity! Our mattresses on the floor were tucked up under the eaves - I felt like a little bird in a cozy nest.
The house rule at Granon: don’t awaken before 0700 (breakfast at 0730) was violated by many pilgrims. Rustling bags and loud voices - people think they are being quiet and respectful, but they are not.
More later… I am off to clean up and to explore Belorado.
Day 15 - Granon - Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Santo Domingo de la Calzada -> Granon = 6.5K (553.8K to go!)
0700 – Writing Over Vending-Machine Coffee con Leche
Last night a pair of lovely Dutch women invited me to share the meal they cooked in the albergue dining room. The women are dear friends and each year they meet to walk for two weeks on the Camino. They are delightful, laughing and joking, relaxed and enjoying their experiences. I am grateful to be included. They also share their meal with a pair of young Spanish firefighters (from Barcelona) who are also walking for just two weeks. I have little to add to their meal, but I offer up some Spanish sausage and wine and a loaf of bread. We eat and talk and laugh and sing for hours. It is a wonderful meal, but of course it is the companionship and not the food that matters.
It was kind of them to include me. One can feel quite lonely n a crowd, even among pilgrims. Language, customs, culture, concerns can all keep us isolated from one another. And at other times we reach out beyond our boundaries, borders and fears to make life easier for someone else. This is a lesson that may never be completely learned. One may need to keep working (throughout a lifetime) on the art of reaching out and selflessly sharing.
My American friend (R.) surprised me with a gift last night: a pastry chicken and 4 chocolate baby chicks. They are so clever and detailed. I laughed when I saw them. They are too cute - it is hard to eat them, but they are very tasty too!
The albergue was an oven last night. I lay awake, drenched with sweat. The light in the hallway flashed on and off all night long as pilgrims made another kind of pilgrimage (to the toilets). It was like an old-fashioned neon sign. I felt like I was in one of those old black and white detective movies at the flea-bag hotel.
The accommodations are nice at the albergue, but it is an albergue and there are many people.
Twice, the man in the upper bunk next to mine sat up in the middle of the long night and screamed (in French) at the snorers. I have no idea what he said and do not know if he was sleep-talking or simply angry and reacting to the cacophony of snoring and snorting. And in the early morning hours there were pilgrims up and flashing their lights as well as talking in their outdoor voices. People can be so unaware of those around them.
As the room grew lighter I observed a sweet, rather private moment between a couple across the room. This very tall, hearty man from Israel (with waist-length dreadlocks) was tenderly kissing the vulnerable cheeks and neck of his fragile, flower-like companion. He gently kissed her awake. I look away, feeling like a voyeur, but pleased to have such a lovely image to start my day with.
1400 – Soaking up the Sun in Granon
R. and I walked together again. We arrived in lovely Granon early in the day (only about a 6K walk!) but I insisted we stop here. Pilgrims who stay at the albergue in this village sleep in the bell tower. The hospitaleros also arrange for a wonderful communal dinner.
There are albergues and there are albergues. Many are quite large and aim to be efficient while others are small and warm and strive to be effective. I have looked forward to staying here in this unique albergue in Granon. This place is on the favorites list of many veteran pilgrims.
We are the first to arrive. We climb up into the bell tower and unroll the mats they provide us. We are tucked under the eaves. Above, outside, the bell tower is home to a stork family. In the sunny patio where I sit penning my notes, I can hear turtledoves coo and other birds chattering. The storks clatter their beaks. Roosters crow and a piece of farm equipment passes through the quiet streets. Spring flowers flourish and the perfume drifts through the village on spring breezes. Bees buzz, butterflies flit, and it feels as though time stands still for these few bright hours in the middle of the day. A grandfather stands tending a baby carriage as he talks to his friends, a kitten plays in the doorway across the street, a woman sings in her kitchen; life is good.
The mid-day siesta is alive here; a custom that might improve the quality of life of the world if we all adopted it. Even here on the Camino, many pilgrims rush around, and try to pack so much into each day. They wear themselves out and have no time to sit and be or to observe nature and people and the life unfolding around them The people in this village however, honor the joys of siesta.
I also like the rhythms of life here in Spain. People to gather in public place at 0800 or 1000 and again at 1700 each day. They come together throughout the day. They sip a drink and share.
From across the street, I hear an old man crying out. Is he angry or is he demented or suffering from Alzheimer’s. He asks questions over and over and makes demands. No one seems to answer. I wonder what his life is like. I wonder what it is like to grow old in this quiet village.
My thoughts are of simple pleasures: carving out a nest where I can enjoy the sunshine, a cat or two, fresh flowers, lunching under a tree (or under the stars). Time to read, time to walk the dog, time for “every purpose under heaven.” I imagine life in a light-filled space. I consider the house in South Carolina and wonder if I could build a quiet life there and simply happily-ever-after. Or is it merely inertia that draws me there. Or maybe I could initiate another adventure – build and run a guesthouse on my brother’s mountaintop in northern Malawi? A home and life in downtown Albuquerque or maybe a pleasant life in surprising Des Moines near family. Simple pleasures – libraries, churches, creative projects…baking bread to share with friends, building traditions, raising some chickens…a small business.
Life is good and filled with an abundance of delights. I am open to these opportunities and I am not outlining or making rigid plans. But I am willing to commit and willing to serve. I will find that path as surely as I am finding the path that is the Camino.
Day 14 - Santo Domingo de la Calzada - Monday, 4 May 2009
Azofra -> Santo Domingo de la Calzada = 15.5K (638K to go!)
The day never really dawned. I woke late and the grey skies gave no clue to what time it really was.
I made my way down the hall for the usual ablutions, and realized the albergue was empty of other pilgrims. It had the eerie feel of a schoolhouse in summer or a nightclub seen in the light of day.
This albergue provided pilgrims with some privacy. Instead of an open bay filled with bunks, pilgrims shared a small room, designed just for two. What a luxury to have a modicum of privacy (thin plywood walls) and an escape from the usual symphony of snoring and farting and the pre-dawn rustling of plastic bags under the glow of annoying headlamps and flashlights.
So I overslept!
I set out at 0840 as the grey skies morphed into mist and light rain. The temperature dropped. Ahead, I observed a pilgrim disappearing into a taxi cab. (REAL pilgrims carry their bags and walk the entire way, though where these rules are written is a topic of considerable discussion.) I plodded on up the sloping terrain, eager to find a bar for some hot café con leche. By 1215 I was in Santo Domingo de la Calzada. The one village I passed through had no bar so I was eager to find a dry, warm place to sip some coffee.
I wandered through the historic district, my red poncho the only splash of color on this dreary day. When I saw the albergue, I decided to stop and call it a day. The Spanish Confraternity runs this establishment with its large dining room and convenient location. It is large and modern and well maintained. I will share a room with about 28 other pilgrims. The grey, overcast sky and penetrating humidity takes its toll. I am sleepy, the room feels muggy and close and the bathroom is like a sauna.
This is the jubilee year of the town’s namesake and as luck would have it, there is a special mass today. St Dominic was an 11th century religious hermit and engineer who spent his life designing and building roads and bridges for pilgrims in this wilderness area on the banks of the Rio Oja (River Oja). His remains are housed in the cathedral.
The motto of Santo Domingo de la Calzada is: “Donde la gallina canto despues de asada.” (Where the hen crowed after being roasted.) So, I am especially eager to see the rooster and hen that are housed in the cathedral and play a significant role in the legends about this community.
The condensed version of the tale goes like this: a young pilgrim, traveling with his parents, spurned the advances of a local barmaid. Angered, the young woman hid some silver in the young man’s knapsack and then accused him of stealing from the tavern. Of course the evidence was there and the young man was marched to the gallows and hanged. The devastated, but devoted parents prayed earnestly to St James and knowing St James would support their innocent son, they proceeded on their pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, leaving their son strung up on the gallows.
The story does not end here. Once their pilgrimage was complete, the grieving parents return to Santo Domingo de la Calzada and find their son, still hanging and alive. Supporting him from under his feet is the saint. The parents run to the surly judge and ask him to release their innocent son. The judge, who was seated at lunch, scoffed and said if their son was innocent and still alive, the roasted chickens on his plate would stand up and crow. To his great surprise, the roasted chickens did just that! A miracle! St James protects travelers along the pilgrim route and this legend is testimony of that!
I visit the cathedral delight to hear the crowing chickens. Later, I visit the alternate chickens which are housed in the albergue where they wait for their 15-day rotation in the cathedral. I feed these birds bits of bread and feel lucky that they eat my offering. This is considered a good omen, by those who know about omens.
I mingle with other pilgrims and hear the inevitable gossip. About 6 of the pilgrims who I saw at the Azofra albergue last night have shipped their backpacks ahead. Foot and knee problems drive their decisions. My own knee is good now and my backpack (about 8 pounds) is light and not a burden. Some other pilgrims have checked into private hotels for the night rather than deal with the challenges of communal living in the albergue.
Friend Judy's Inspriational Thought for the Day:
HEAVENWARD
Christian Science Hymn 136 (This first verse has many "active" thoughts for May 4th.)
I love Thy way of freedom, Lord,
To serve Thee is my choice,
In Thy clear light of Truth I rise
And, listening for Thy voice,
I hear Thy promise old and new,
That bids all fear to cease:
My presence still shall go with thee
And I will give thee peace.
(This is a favorite of mine and I sing it frequently! - VJP)
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