Showing posts with label Rioja. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rioja. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Day 13 - Azofra - Sunday, 3 May 2009















Ventosa -> Azofra = 18.5K (575.5K to go!)

The 300 people who live in Azofra are all in the small, neat town plaza sipping wine, snacking on wonderful tapas and talking. Music plays in the background. The Mayor splashes more Rioja (regional wine) into my glass and insists I try his wife’s special Jamon Serrano (salted ham). I am delighted to oblige. Then he thrusts a plate of salchicon and chorizo (sausages) my way and splashes still more Rioja into my glass.

The Mayor dazzles his constituency with his (seeming) command of English as he chats happily with R. and me. We nod our heads and listen attentively and do not let on that his English skills leave something to be desired. Everyone is dressed up. I feel a bit out of place in my pilgrim clothes, but the locals seem quite happy to have us there.

What a wonderful thing it is to participate in a local celebration. We certainly did not plan this adventure, but it is one of the serendipitous things that happen.

How did it happen?

R. and I walked into the village just as the church bells were ringing. R. said, “I’m going to see if I can go to mass – you head over to the albergue and see that we are in line for beds.” She went left, I went right. In a matter of moments I entered the square, still toting my gear and looking sweaty and in disrepair when a local man happily smiled at me and literally thrust a bottle of chilled wine into my hands. Quite the welcome!

The celebration is the Fiesta de la Cruz (celebration of the cross) and coincides with Spanish Mother’s Day this year. The locals certainly celebrated and generously included us in their party. It was a lovely and unexpected end to our day’s walk.

Earlier in the day (about 9AM) we walked through Najera where we stopped for breakfast at a bar near the river. It was jammed packed with local and pilgrims. Since it was Mother's Day, women were dressed up and carrying flowers. I felt far from home and a bit lonely with no family to honor me on this special day.

After breakfast we headed through this delightful city. As we approached the old city, it was hard to keep going. I was sorely tempted to stop and stay the night. A full blown Renaissance Faire was in the process of being set up. The medieval town is just the right atmosphere for such an event. Venders were setting up, so I lingered, examining their wares and taking photos of the birds of prey and the chain mail work.

The city walls and beautiful old building are idyllic. Above, ciguenas (white storks) have built large nests atop every spire, chimney or tower in the vicinity. Their noise of their clattering beaks echoed through the narrow streets. The city was delightful.

But R. and I walked on. Once again we saw several pairs of abandoned leather boots as we strode up the steep climb beyond Najera. So many pilgrims come with heavy footwear and find it is better to walk in light-weight shoes. I have seen people walking in sandals and even in Crocs!

It was a beautiful walk and the weather was balmy and bright. We sang songs and laughed. I used my staff like a baton and did a little dancing and marching as we walked along on this fine spring day.

The albergue is quite pleasant, but modest. Only 2 people per room! What a luxury to have privacy! The patio is very nice too. There is a small fountain/pool where I soaked my feet in cool water.

The rhythms and routines of this life are getting easier. My feet are happy, but I may need insoles…walking on sealed roads is surprisingly hard on the feet.

Tomorrow, I hope to stay in Granon (to sleep in the bell tower). Or I may stop at Santo Domingo.

The moon is half-full.

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

Day 10 - Logrono - Thursday, 30 April 2009















Viana -> Logrono = 7K (610K to go!)

The walk into Logrono charmed me. The inviting, cottage-like, adobe houses crowd onto the very edge of the road. Flowers spill out of window boxes, caged birds trill, cats wander in and out and doors are open. People sit on benches and watch the pilgrims pass by. The smell of soup wafts out on the spring breeze. I slow my pace, taking it all in.

I can’t help but think of the poem, The House by the Side of the Road. (Mother used to quote bits of it as she went about her work around the house. – the third stanza is most familiar to me.)

The House By the Side of the Road
By Sam Walter Foss

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by -
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban;
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears -
Both parts of an infinite plan;
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
And the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by -
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.



As I walk, I stop at an open door and gaze in. The two women inside gesture and invite me in. They offer coffee and sweets. This is what they do. They invite pilgrims in. This is their daily offering, making strangers feel welcome, helping pilgrims who travel a long and sometimes lonely road to Santiago far away.

And it is not just people along the way who reach out to pilgrims. Each day, my friend Judy, back in the USA, e-mails a daily uplifting thought to me. Her sweet offerings are wonderful fuel for my thoughts as I walk along each day. I look forward to these thoughts.

It’s good to remember that I walk with Love (God) along the way (see below). These thoughts frame my experience and make it richer.

This thought is from the second verse of the CS Hymn 139:

Who walks with Love along the way?
Shall talk with Love and Love obey;
God's healing truth is free to all,
Our Father answers every call;
‘Tis He dispels the clouds of gray
That all may walk with Love today.


As I sat, posing for a photo, it occurred to me that I should return to our modest house by the side of the road (in sunny SC), get a few chickens and a big orange cat and be happy. It was almost as if a voice spoke to me as I sat there smelling the perfume from the spring flowers and listening to the birds chatter. 

I walk on, into the city..

I am in Rioja now – the wine producing region of Spain. About 135,000 people live here. It seems large after all the tiny villages I have been walking through. I cross the Ebro River and find the bustling downtown area.

Rese and I sit in an outdoor café and eat tortilla. I flirt with a bright-eyed 2-year old boy whose family smiles at us. He laughs when I share my tiny quacking duck with him. I laugh.

The boy and his family take their leave. Moments later the small child reappears, supervised by an adult. He thrusts out his chubby fist to present me with a bag of hard candies. They purchased them for me. The phrase "never take candy from strangers" runs through my head. I laugh and say gracias.

I walk away thinking about the kindness of people I meet along the way. Sucking on a piece of the candy, I am mindful that people are respectful of pilgrims. They know there is meaning in what we are doing.

It rains on us in Logrono. Hard rain. Fortunately it is worst after we are already safe in our beds, but I did have to navigate my way home from dinner in the showers.

I was lucky enough to have an invitation to join the TV documentary film crew for dinner. The meal was truly a gourmet event with the food prepared by the men in an elite gastronomical society and served in a lovely dining room. These men have met each Thursday for about 50 years.These culinary societies are typical in this region of Spain. I am honored to be a guest.

The food was wonderful and I enjoyed a departure from the more Spartan life of a pilgrim. (My usual fare has been thin lentil soup and crusty bread.) There were several courses of rich food, prepared and presented in style.


I felt like Cinderella as I scurried back to my albergue to beat the curfew – they lock the doors at about 2130 each night. Pilgrims who miss curfew are just out of luck.

I made it "home" just as the door was being closed. Idreamed sweet dreams of rich, elegant food, orange cats and my little house in sunny SC
.