Well, the strange, long, wonderful road to Santiago ended on November 26. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write about the last part of the journey - i think I needed some time to put it into perspective first. I will write about reflections in another post, I think, but here is the final chapter...
I last wrote from Melide, where we believed ourselves to be 2 days from our destination. We went out that night to try pulpo (octopus, a local speciality) and I have to say that I prefer greek-style. It was ok but I couldn't have eaten a whole plate! The albergue that night was the usual Galician style (ie crappy) and we were all a bit run-down and over bad showers (again, communal, no doors!) and tiny dormitories with no room to swing even the smallest of kittens. The next morning Jerome and I both woke up a little sick - Tobias had been fighting a cold for a few days and Eric and Nancy were also a bit sniffly. We headed out with a plan to walk 34kms to Santa Irene, a big day by any standards but especially when you're physically and meteorologically 'under the weather', because Galicia decided to really give us a taste of her nasty side. As the black clouds swept over the sky we considered putting on our rain gear. A moment later that thought became redundant as we got pelted with small balls of ice. Yes, it was hailing. We ran for the cover of a pedestrian tunnel and covered up, and luckily for us the hail turned to normal drenching rain. Oh goody! We pushed on to the next town and stopped for lunch. One of my shoes had decided it had had enough of being waterproof and had welcomed in the rain like an old friend. Jerome was looking terrible and feeling worse and one by one the rest of the family arrived in various states of fatigue and saturation. Not long after that we made the decision to stay the night. THe problem was I'd done food shopping and the albergue nearby had no kitchen. We'd eaten out a lot recently and none of us felt like spending more money than was necessary. We shouldered our bags and went searching for another option. We called numbers and got no answer, knocked on doors that no-one answered and it was all a bit depressing. That's when my AD spirit kicked in and I remembered why I was so damn good at that job. Within five minutes I'd tracked down a private albergue, called and negotiated (in Spanish!) and was leading the group to the entrance. It was a new place and the man gave us a discount because we were a group. It was so luxurious we almost fell over. Lovely dormitories, even better showers with plenty of hot water and a real kitchen with oil, salt, spices and pans. We'd been dreaming of a place like this. The only problem was that Eric had left early that morning and didn't knw we weren't going to Santa Irene. We had no way to get a message to him and therefore he'd be a day ahead of us. So the eight became seven, but we knew that the pilgrim instinct that had kept us together for so long would bring him to us in Santiago. We ate dinner by candlelight and slept so well that it was about 9am when we finally woke up. Oops! But the hospitalero didn't mind and we left in much better spirits and better weather - while not sunny it was at least not raining yet!
By this point we were about 40kms away from Santiago and getting closer with every step, as small stones announced at 500m intervals. It was nice to see progress but frankly they made me a little bit nervous - a constant reminder that this amazing time was drawing to an end with a speed I couldn't quite believe. It was difficult for Jerome and I because Santiago was an end of our time too, and watching those numbers fall brought a lot of sadness in amongst the excitement of completing the Camino. But there was no way back (ok, not strictly true, but really, are you going to turn around before you reach your destination after coming that bloody far? I don't think so...) so on we walked. That night we headed to Arco do Pino for our last night before Santiago. Another tiny, narrow, communally showered albergue - how much do I NOT miss them? - so Jerome kindly stood guard at the bathroom door so I could have a shower. Olaf and Tobias had announced that day that they were going to make pancakes for dinner. I think maybe this is a Dutch thing, because Olaf did this once in France and Tobias was very keen on the idea this night. So they made more batter than I thought was humanly possible and annoyed all the other pilgrims by using all the hotplates and most of the frying pans to cook mounds of cheese and apple pancakes (separate, not mixed) and we all sat down to breakfast at 8pm.
At 5 or 6am the next morning all the other pilgrims woke up and with much excited rustling of bags left in darkness to walk the last day to Santiago. We didn't. When we woke up (at about 8:30, long gone were the days when Jerome, Eric and I were up at 5:30) the whole place was empty except for our corridor of bunks. The other pilgrims probably wanted to get to the pilgrim mass at 1pm but since we were staying a few days we weren't that fussed. Luckily we got dressed, breakfasted (more pancakes) and packed just in time. The lady came in to clean and wasn't very happy that we had overstayed the 8am check-out rule.
And so we began the final 20km walk to our destination for all these long months. It didn't fit in my brain that I would actually arrive, that i would enter the cathedral, that day. How, when it truly is all about the journey, do you deal with the destination when it comes? The first part of the day was through beautiful forests- so many eucalypts! - but it slowly grew more and more urban as we approached Monte do Gozo. Traditionally, this town 5kms away from Santiago was where pilgrims stayed the night to wash, shave, and change clothes so as to arrive clean and presentable to mass the next day. Nowadays there is an 800-bed albergue there offering accommodation to pilgrims, students and sports teams. We had agreed to meet in Monte do Gozo (since we often separated on the road) and enter Santiago together. Of course there was no meeting place arranged and when Jerome and I arrived it was lunch time so we decided to go to a cafe. As we got closer I saw Tobias' walking staff leaning against the wall. The three of us had lunch and then Jerome went outside for a cigarette. As he stepped outside the others came around the corner, so once again without any need to plan we all found each other at the perfect time in the perfect place - pilgrim radio.
The seven of us dropped down the hill and there lay Santiago. We couldn't see the cathedral yet but as we crossed the bridge and passed the official boundary sign I could feel the excitement and nervous tension start to build. We walked on and on through fairly dull parts of the city, following signs that weren't always easy to spot. I tialked to other pilgrims who arrived on their own or wit one other person and many of them reported feeling disappointed and frustrated with their arrival, because no-one wished them a good camino, or smiled, or even acknowledged their existence. I guess for a city that sees 80 000 pilgrims a year that's normal, but I felt very fortunate to be part of a group, to have these wonderful people to share this moment with. Since Jerome had done the Camino before and has an excellent sense of direction he led us easily through to the old city. As we wound up the paved streets with souvenier shops flogging pilgrim-inspired trinkets we caught our first glimpse of the cathedral. We turned a corner and suddenly we were standing on the right-hand side of it. This is another strange thing about the path - it brings you to a side door through which you can enter and many people do, but Jerome knew better and led us around to the square in front where we could take in the huge gothic facade of our destination. We stood in the square - the only pilgrims at that point - and hugged, cheered, maybe cried a little and tried to take in the fact that we had done it. Together we climbed the stairs and entered the cathedral.
My first impression on seeing the alter was "hmm, that's very glitzy". Gold, gold and more gold, with a rather disturbing gold statue of St James (which you can hug, and I did) and just for good measure other (gold) statues of angels and maybe a cherub. The whole thing was a bit of an assault on the senses - subtlety was clearly not what the designer had in mind. But the most important place in the cathedral is the crypt, where the relic of St James - a silver coffin with his remains - is kept. Jerome and I made our way down into the small stome chamber with only a prayer stand in front of the relic (behind glass of course) and a bench to sit on. I have said before that I'm not christian, but was doing this pilgrimage for spiritual reasons. So really the supposed bones of an apostle shouldn't have meant that much. But the power of that place was undeniable. I don't know if it was because we had been through so much to kneel before that silver box, or because so many people had ben through so much for so long to do the same, but that crypt hummed with something sacred. We kelt and said a prayer and then moved to the bench at the back of the crypt and just held each other, in silence and in love and I swear if the earth had cracked open beneath our feet we couldn't have moved from that place. It was half an hour before we were able to rise to our feet, remembering that there were people waiting for us. When we emerged intothe sunshine in the square - yes, Galicia brought out blue sky and sunlight for our arrival and the day after, the only occasions in all our time there - and saw the others gathered together, but six instead of five - Eric had found us. He'd come to the square around the time he figured we'd arrive and we all went and booked in to the private pension he was staying at. No more albergues for me, that night we had a bed with sheets and a towel provided.
Now, of course the personal sense of completion is really reward enough, but traditionally, when the pilgrimage was still a dangerous prospect and many people didn't make it, you wanted to have something to prove you'd done it when you arrived home after all those months and hardships. For this reason the church issues a Compostela, an official document that states (in latin) that you have fulfilled the requirements of the pilgrimage (you've come a sufficiently long way, you've walked or ridden, and you've gotten the necessary stamps in your credential). If you haven't walked the route for religious (or spiritual) reasons you get a certificate in English, I think. The people at the pilgrims office check your credential and ask you some questions. My lady was very smiley and friendly, but one of the men was quite interogatory, almost like he suspected us of cheating along the way. But we all met the requirements and received our compostelas - my name in latin is Rosam Marium, just in case anyone was wondering!
That night we went out for amazing pizza, a little too much red wine and a general sense of accomplishment. We were all pretty tired after the day's events, but so happy to be there, to be together to savour this moment and for me at least, wondering what exactly was going to happen next. That's th funny thing about finishing something big, I guess. After so long concentrating on one thing, you're never quite sure which door to open when that one swings shut.
We all hung around Santiago the next day and attended mass together at 1pm. It was great because pilgrims we'd all met along the way but lost contact with began to arrive. So I found Christof, Annie, and Phillipe again. The priest read out how many pilgrims had arrived from which countries the day before and we were on the list - only one from Australia, so I got to feel special! When it came time to turn to your neighbour and shake their hand, we took off around the church, hugging the pilgrims we knew and sharing in that moment an understanding that you cannot put into words. People, virutal strangers some, who were more real than family right then, who knew how far you'd come because they'd done it themselves. No matter that our roads and experiences were different, that we saw different meaning in events and sights and felt differently about the time on the camino. The road to Santiago weaves a strange web between us all, and those bonds are stronger than they first appear.
That night about thirty pilgrims (including us) gathered in a restaurant for very disappointing food and the joy of catching up with each other. Many of them had arrived that day and while it was nice to see some people there were many I didn't know and it felt too big and noisy. Daniel and Renata from Brazil were there and that completed my list of people I'd hoped to see again. On the road, after a particularly fun day of singing together, I'd suggested to Jerome that we find karaoke in Santaigo. He'd said there definitely wouldn't be a place there and went so far as to promise that if I could find one, he'd sing. Well, what do you know, there were 2 karaoke bars in Santiago, and under much sufferance I dragged him along with a few others to Makumba. He wanted nothing to do with it until he sang his first song then he wouldn't let go of the song book. Etienne impressed us all with unexpected karaoke talents and Daniel and Renata took all night to choose one Portuguese song which, when it came on, wasn't the song they thought it was so they couldn't sing it. I love karaoke!
The next day the rest of the group started the three or four day walk to Finisterre on the coast of Spain. I stayed behind with Jerome and we drifted quietly around Santigo together, knowing that the time was drawing very near when we would have to say good-bye. I bought some 'normal' clothes and barely recognised myself in the mirror - what? no hiking pants? - and I could feel the rhythm of everyday life seeping back in. Strange to put down my pack, to stay in one place for a few days running, to slip into a routine that didn't involve walking. After so long on the road I was at a bit of a loss of what to do with all these hours in the day, but it's amazing how fast they fill up.
I'll sign off this post now because I know it's VERY long. Thank-you all for following my adventures, I have so enjoyed keeping this blog and sharing my time on the road. So thank-you, thank-you and see you all soon.
Sunday 30 November 2008
Sunday 23 November 2008
The family
A quick overview of the people I am curently travelling with, since they have become my new camino family and are wonderful:
Jo and Nancy from Quebec: I met these two in France and we kept bumping into each other along the way. In Leon we saw them again and have been together ever since. They are fabulous, funny, and insightful, but sometimes Quebec French is incomprehensible to me.
Tobias: Tobias is from Holland and has walked from his home to Spain. He is tall, has shoulder-length white blond hair, carries a wooden staff with a scallop shell and has a sixth sense-ability to find us even if we haven't seen him all day. For these reasons we have christened him Legola, or just "the elf". He is an old, wise spirit in a young man's body and is a blesing to walk with.
Olaf: Also from Holland, also walked from his house, but has worked in France along the way so has been on the road for a bout two and half years. He's even taller than Tobias and for this reason we call him the giant or the Ent (yes, we're Lord of the Rings fans)
Jerome: I have already mentioned him, but we have shared som much of this road and talked about every subject under the sun. We think the same things at the same time, challenge each other, heal each other and he has been a big part of my road.
Eric: eric is like a little ray of sunshine wrapped up in human form. he wants to be a sheperd and has the calmest and funniest spirit. nothing seems to shake him.
Etienne: another Quebec recruit, relaxed and friendly. He shrunk his zip-off pants bottoms, so now he walks in shorts and tights. Funny.
Jo and Nancy from Quebec: I met these two in France and we kept bumping into each other along the way. In Leon we saw them again and have been together ever since. They are fabulous, funny, and insightful, but sometimes Quebec French is incomprehensible to me.
Tobias: Tobias is from Holland and has walked from his home to Spain. He is tall, has shoulder-length white blond hair, carries a wooden staff with a scallop shell and has a sixth sense-ability to find us even if we haven't seen him all day. For these reasons we have christened him Legola, or just "the elf". He is an old, wise spirit in a young man's body and is a blesing to walk with.
Olaf: Also from Holland, also walked from his house, but has worked in France along the way so has been on the road for a bout two and half years. He's even taller than Tobias and for this reason we call him the giant or the Ent (yes, we're Lord of the Rings fans)
Jerome: I have already mentioned him, but we have shared som much of this road and talked about every subject under the sun. We think the same things at the same time, challenge each other, heal each other and he has been a big part of my road.
Eric: eric is like a little ray of sunshine wrapped up in human form. he wants to be a sheperd and has the calmest and funniest spirit. nothing seems to shake him.
Etienne: another Quebec recruit, relaxed and friendly. He shrunk his zip-off pants bottoms, so now he walks in shorts and tights. Funny.
snapshots from the road
ok, apologies for the really long absence from my blog - I'm blaming a total lack of computers, being in the middle of bloody nowhere, long days and late starts and other distractions that will become clear...
anyway, I am two days (count them TWO!) from Santiago de Compostela and I can't quite fit that fact into my brain. I don't know where two months went (it's two months tomorrow since I set out from Le Puy)or 1550kms, which is apparently how far I've walked. Snce I can't possibly blog ALL the moments since I last wrote, I thought I'd cut it down to the highlights, so here goes!
he last of the Meseta
I think I last blogged from the middle of the Meseta, the desert of the Camino. This was an amazing place - I began to understand why people go to the desert to seek knowledge and mystical experiences, because you really do find them there. Jerome told us that the desert would ask us a question, and at a certain point there was a choice between two roads. Our choice of the road was a symbolic answer, to accept a new beginning or stay in the old way of life. Our group chose the new beginning, or the Roman road, which leads through one of the most isolated parts of Spain where there is nothing except for the town in which we would sleep. The meseta was a big experience for all of us, and I watched the changes in the people around me, knowing that they were probably seeing the same in me.
The angel of Reliegos
Our second last day we headed from the remote and tiny town of Calzadilla de los Hermanillos to Mansilla de los Mulas. THe first 18kms were across an empty plain - nothing, no houses, no farms barely any trees, and it was cold and rainy. Jerome and I walked and talked, squelching through mud and water and praying that somewhere there would be a cafe. When we reached Reliegos, the only bar had a sign on the door saying it was shut. It was another 10kms or so to the next town. But the curtains moved and we heard a man shout out, askeing us to wait a moment. He opened the door and gestured us in, talking in the most rapid-fire Spanish I'd heard yet. Essentially he'd been having a day off, but saw us and decided to open so we could rest. We were so grateful and ordered cafe con leches and attempted to order a cheese and ham sandwich. He told me there was no cheese, so I asked what he recommended. Again in incomprehensible Spanish he said something about meat and delicious. I said we'd take two. Hey, it's meant to be an adeventure, right? Since we'd talked about sandwiches I assumed that's what we'd get. Instead we got bowls with hunks of slow-cooked meat (beef? mutton?) with sauce and bread on the side. Not the best thing ever but hot and filling. the other pilgrims of our group filed in, and the music got turned up. It seemed that no matter what people ordered they got whatever he had going in the kitchen. Even when people ordered the same thing it was different! But he was just loving his work and the mood was infectious. We all started singing along and grooving in our chairs. It was such a magic moment after a long hard week. As I watched him I realised what a wonderful thing it is to do something we love, or just simply to do what we do with love.
Leon, Leon
The next day brought us to Leon where we planned to take a rest day. Leon is GORGEOUS and we stayed in a convent in the old town not too far from the Cathedral. The cathedral is one of those amazing gothic churches and it defies description. THe stained-glass windows inside were so beautiful I almost cried. That night Eric, Jerome and I decided to go out for dinner, and Olaf and Tobias said they might join us, but since we didn't know where we were going we figured it wouldn't work out. After wandering around fro 15 minutes (it was 7:30 and nothing opens for dinner here before 8pm) we found a pizza restaurant that was open and strangely the onñy place in Spain where you can't smoke. Since the other two are smokers this was deeply disappointing to them, but something of a relief to me. We ordered wine and food and everything was really good. Just as our pizzas arrived, the door opened and in walked Tobias, just as if we'd planned the rendevous. He really is an elf. We got a bit drunk and ate too much and headed back to the convent just in time to see the other pilgrims returning from evening prayers and for me to get in trouble (a little) from the hospitalero for not attending. Now, there were three other people with me, but why I got the attention is still a mystery. Maybe I look like I need the help?
The next day we walked (yes, it was supposed to be a rest day, but what else do you do?) around Leon, visiting places, buying me a ski jacket, having coffee and finally churros (spanish donuts) with thick thick hot chocolate. We went to the evening prayers where the nuns sang the prayers with voices like angels. All in all, a really lovely day. Then we went to sleep.... well, we tried. The man next to us started up a symphony of snoring and after two hours of pain I moved to the other dormitory, which was empty but open and tried again. Jerome arrived ten minutes later, both of us cursing large Spanish men. Our efforts to sleep were hindered by the party of Spanish people outside or window who seemed to be practicing football chants. Then, around 4am the hospitalero came in, drunk, and demanded to know why we were there. We explained the problem and he said in french something I won't translate because I know my grandmother is reading this! But the basic idea was "Bloody pilgrims, I've had enough". The next morning his foul mood continued and we all hit the road as early as we could, just happy to be out of there.
Indian Summer
We'd spent the whole mesta freezing with wind and rain and cloud, so imagine our sheer joy when the moment we reached Leon the weather cleared and the bluest of blue skies appeared, with glorius sunshine to boot. We were all walking in t-shirts and sweating. It was mid-November and the most wonderful gift from heaven imaginable. I'm now in Galicia, so all that's changed...
The last templar
After Leon comes the Montes of Leon, the steepest and highest part of the camino, and much harder than the Pyrenees, since it's off road and more consistently steep. The goal was to reach Manjarin, an abandoned village on top of the mountain where a man called Thonas has rebuilt some ruins into an albergue and cares for pilgrims in the style of the Knights Templar, the original guardians of the Camino and protectors of pilgrims in medieval times. We passed through Foncebaddon first, hoping to stop at a Celtic restaurant Jerome knows. Foncebaddon is another runied village that is slowly being rebuilt, but seriously, there is NOTHING there. So when we arrived at the restaurant and asked for a table, we were a little surprised to be informed that is was fully booked. It wasn't a small restaurant.
We arrived at Manjarin, which I can only describe as the most fabulous experience I've had along the Camino. No electricty (almost), no showers, pit toilet, freezing outside but warm inside. There were dogs, puppies, cats and kittens everywhere, since all the animals had had litters recently. I almost died of cuteness overload. THe sunset lasted forever, with no other lights to compete, and the stars were the most magnificent thing I've seen in a long, long time. It was just our group there and we were all very, very happy. To anyone thinking about doing the camino - don't believe the guidebooks, STAY HERE!
Cow and Old Lady: 1, Jerome and Rosie: 0
Jerome and I were walking along through tiny hamlets and past farms, figuring we'd be in Sarria for lunch buy 2pm. We came to a small farm and were waved down by an old lady with a plate of pancakes, who sprinkled sugar over them and handed one ot each of us, asking us how our camino was going and how far we'd come. We were so touched by her kindness, as she inquired if there were more pilgrims behind us. As we wentr to leave, thanking her profusely, she siad "Donativo?" (Donation?) We realised we'd just been duped into buying cold pancakes. We gave her a euro for both of us and she had the hide to ask for more! Smiling but shaking our heads we walked away. Later we found out she'd gotten about 4 more from our group...
We kept going and came to another farm where a woman was trying to control a herd of cows, whipping them and yelling. Two of them escaped and came charging up towards us so we jumped out of the wat and waited for her to get it under control. Finally the cows came back down and after what we considered a decent amount of time we followed. Except that one of the cows hadn't followed the herd, and was standing on the camino, mooing loudly and sounding deeply unhappy. We tried to urge her onwards so we could pass, but she decided she'd rather come up towards us again. We backed up pretty fast and cut down a side lane, hoping she didn't break into a run. The problem was, at the bottom of the hill was the rest of the herd and the woamn really didn't care that her cow was blocking the camino. Except her cow wasn't blocking the camino anymore - it had followed us down the path. So we were now stuck between a mad cow and a mad woman with many cows. We jumped a barbed wire fence, cut across a paddock and went behind thwe cow, hiked up the bloody hill and half an hour later were back where we started. However it's always my policy that if something is bigger than you and can do more damage to you than you can to it, back off.
Galicia
Whenever I read anything about Galicia, in the first few lines it says something along the lines of "It rains a lot in Galicia, all the time, every season, and you will definitly get wet" True to form, as we crossed the border from Castilla'Leon to Galicia, dark clouds gathered acros our previously clear skies. Since then it's been grey, white and sometimes blue skies with wind, rain and fog. there's another chance of snow, but who knows. Galicia has eucalypt forests, too, and it's like suddenly walking through Australia. The albergue accommodation is, in a word, crap. Not always, but it's standardised and I think they look at pilgrims and see dollar signs (or euro signs, more accurately). The kitchens are unequiped, the place we're staying in tonight has communal showers with no doors. Sorry, but I'm not showering with strange men. There's a line and that is way, WAY beyond it. The dorms are big too, so if there's a snorer in the midst there's no escape. I think I'm sleeping in the common room tonight...
So there you have, it, 55kms to go and I'll be standing in front of the cathedral in Santiago. All of us are sad to finish this I think - the eternal question of "what next?" is sitting on everyone's lips. But al things must end, and we must finish one journey to begin another. So here goes.
PS: For those wondering about the many mentions of one person in this blog, the answer is yes.
anyway, I am two days (count them TWO!) from Santiago de Compostela and I can't quite fit that fact into my brain. I don't know where two months went (it's two months tomorrow since I set out from Le Puy)or 1550kms, which is apparently how far I've walked. Snce I can't possibly blog ALL the moments since I last wrote, I thought I'd cut it down to the highlights, so here goes!
he last of the Meseta
I think I last blogged from the middle of the Meseta, the desert of the Camino. This was an amazing place - I began to understand why people go to the desert to seek knowledge and mystical experiences, because you really do find them there. Jerome told us that the desert would ask us a question, and at a certain point there was a choice between two roads. Our choice of the road was a symbolic answer, to accept a new beginning or stay in the old way of life. Our group chose the new beginning, or the Roman road, which leads through one of the most isolated parts of Spain where there is nothing except for the town in which we would sleep. The meseta was a big experience for all of us, and I watched the changes in the people around me, knowing that they were probably seeing the same in me.
The angel of Reliegos
Our second last day we headed from the remote and tiny town of Calzadilla de los Hermanillos to Mansilla de los Mulas. THe first 18kms were across an empty plain - nothing, no houses, no farms barely any trees, and it was cold and rainy. Jerome and I walked and talked, squelching through mud and water and praying that somewhere there would be a cafe. When we reached Reliegos, the only bar had a sign on the door saying it was shut. It was another 10kms or so to the next town. But the curtains moved and we heard a man shout out, askeing us to wait a moment. He opened the door and gestured us in, talking in the most rapid-fire Spanish I'd heard yet. Essentially he'd been having a day off, but saw us and decided to open so we could rest. We were so grateful and ordered cafe con leches and attempted to order a cheese and ham sandwich. He told me there was no cheese, so I asked what he recommended. Again in incomprehensible Spanish he said something about meat and delicious. I said we'd take two. Hey, it's meant to be an adeventure, right? Since we'd talked about sandwiches I assumed that's what we'd get. Instead we got bowls with hunks of slow-cooked meat (beef? mutton?) with sauce and bread on the side. Not the best thing ever but hot and filling. the other pilgrims of our group filed in, and the music got turned up. It seemed that no matter what people ordered they got whatever he had going in the kitchen. Even when people ordered the same thing it was different! But he was just loving his work and the mood was infectious. We all started singing along and grooving in our chairs. It was such a magic moment after a long hard week. As I watched him I realised what a wonderful thing it is to do something we love, or just simply to do what we do with love.
Leon, Leon
The next day brought us to Leon where we planned to take a rest day. Leon is GORGEOUS and we stayed in a convent in the old town not too far from the Cathedral. The cathedral is one of those amazing gothic churches and it defies description. THe stained-glass windows inside were so beautiful I almost cried. That night Eric, Jerome and I decided to go out for dinner, and Olaf and Tobias said they might join us, but since we didn't know where we were going we figured it wouldn't work out. After wandering around fro 15 minutes (it was 7:30 and nothing opens for dinner here before 8pm) we found a pizza restaurant that was open and strangely the onñy place in Spain where you can't smoke. Since the other two are smokers this was deeply disappointing to them, but something of a relief to me. We ordered wine and food and everything was really good. Just as our pizzas arrived, the door opened and in walked Tobias, just as if we'd planned the rendevous. He really is an elf. We got a bit drunk and ate too much and headed back to the convent just in time to see the other pilgrims returning from evening prayers and for me to get in trouble (a little) from the hospitalero for not attending. Now, there were three other people with me, but why I got the attention is still a mystery. Maybe I look like I need the help?
The next day we walked (yes, it was supposed to be a rest day, but what else do you do?) around Leon, visiting places, buying me a ski jacket, having coffee and finally churros (spanish donuts) with thick thick hot chocolate. We went to the evening prayers where the nuns sang the prayers with voices like angels. All in all, a really lovely day. Then we went to sleep.... well, we tried. The man next to us started up a symphony of snoring and after two hours of pain I moved to the other dormitory, which was empty but open and tried again. Jerome arrived ten minutes later, both of us cursing large Spanish men. Our efforts to sleep were hindered by the party of Spanish people outside or window who seemed to be practicing football chants. Then, around 4am the hospitalero came in, drunk, and demanded to know why we were there. We explained the problem and he said in french something I won't translate because I know my grandmother is reading this! But the basic idea was "Bloody pilgrims, I've had enough". The next morning his foul mood continued and we all hit the road as early as we could, just happy to be out of there.
Indian Summer
We'd spent the whole mesta freezing with wind and rain and cloud, so imagine our sheer joy when the moment we reached Leon the weather cleared and the bluest of blue skies appeared, with glorius sunshine to boot. We were all walking in t-shirts and sweating. It was mid-November and the most wonderful gift from heaven imaginable. I'm now in Galicia, so all that's changed...
The last templar
After Leon comes the Montes of Leon, the steepest and highest part of the camino, and much harder than the Pyrenees, since it's off road and more consistently steep. The goal was to reach Manjarin, an abandoned village on top of the mountain where a man called Thonas has rebuilt some ruins into an albergue and cares for pilgrims in the style of the Knights Templar, the original guardians of the Camino and protectors of pilgrims in medieval times. We passed through Foncebaddon first, hoping to stop at a Celtic restaurant Jerome knows. Foncebaddon is another runied village that is slowly being rebuilt, but seriously, there is NOTHING there. So when we arrived at the restaurant and asked for a table, we were a little surprised to be informed that is was fully booked. It wasn't a small restaurant.
We arrived at Manjarin, which I can only describe as the most fabulous experience I've had along the Camino. No electricty (almost), no showers, pit toilet, freezing outside but warm inside. There were dogs, puppies, cats and kittens everywhere, since all the animals had had litters recently. I almost died of cuteness overload. THe sunset lasted forever, with no other lights to compete, and the stars were the most magnificent thing I've seen in a long, long time. It was just our group there and we were all very, very happy. To anyone thinking about doing the camino - don't believe the guidebooks, STAY HERE!
Cow and Old Lady: 1, Jerome and Rosie: 0
Jerome and I were walking along through tiny hamlets and past farms, figuring we'd be in Sarria for lunch buy 2pm. We came to a small farm and were waved down by an old lady with a plate of pancakes, who sprinkled sugar over them and handed one ot each of us, asking us how our camino was going and how far we'd come. We were so touched by her kindness, as she inquired if there were more pilgrims behind us. As we wentr to leave, thanking her profusely, she siad "Donativo?" (Donation?) We realised we'd just been duped into buying cold pancakes. We gave her a euro for both of us and she had the hide to ask for more! Smiling but shaking our heads we walked away. Later we found out she'd gotten about 4 more from our group...
We kept going and came to another farm where a woman was trying to control a herd of cows, whipping them and yelling. Two of them escaped and came charging up towards us so we jumped out of the wat and waited for her to get it under control. Finally the cows came back down and after what we considered a decent amount of time we followed. Except that one of the cows hadn't followed the herd, and was standing on the camino, mooing loudly and sounding deeply unhappy. We tried to urge her onwards so we could pass, but she decided she'd rather come up towards us again. We backed up pretty fast and cut down a side lane, hoping she didn't break into a run. The problem was, at the bottom of the hill was the rest of the herd and the woamn really didn't care that her cow was blocking the camino. Except her cow wasn't blocking the camino anymore - it had followed us down the path. So we were now stuck between a mad cow and a mad woman with many cows. We jumped a barbed wire fence, cut across a paddock and went behind thwe cow, hiked up the bloody hill and half an hour later were back where we started. However it's always my policy that if something is bigger than you and can do more damage to you than you can to it, back off.
Galicia
Whenever I read anything about Galicia, in the first few lines it says something along the lines of "It rains a lot in Galicia, all the time, every season, and you will definitly get wet" True to form, as we crossed the border from Castilla'Leon to Galicia, dark clouds gathered acros our previously clear skies. Since then it's been grey, white and sometimes blue skies with wind, rain and fog. there's another chance of snow, but who knows. Galicia has eucalypt forests, too, and it's like suddenly walking through Australia. The albergue accommodation is, in a word, crap. Not always, but it's standardised and I think they look at pilgrims and see dollar signs (or euro signs, more accurately). The kitchens are unequiped, the place we're staying in tonight has communal showers with no doors. Sorry, but I'm not showering with strange men. There's a line and that is way, WAY beyond it. The dorms are big too, so if there's a snorer in the midst there's no escape. I think I'm sleeping in the common room tonight...
So there you have, it, 55kms to go and I'll be standing in front of the cathedral in Santiago. All of us are sad to finish this I think - the eternal question of "what next?" is sitting on everyone's lips. But al things must end, and we must finish one journey to begin another. So here goes.
PS: For those wondering about the many mentions of one person in this blog, the answer is yes.
Sunday 9 November 2008
Without
without TV, DVDs or cinemas
without commercials or billboards
without Vogue and Harpers Bazaar
without mascara, lipgloss, blush
without a choice of what to wear each day
without labels
without starbucks or Dean and Deluca or Jeds
without my laptop
without itunes, ipods or music
without facebook, email, google
without a car
without an address, a job, a home
without any of the things I used to think I needed
i am happy
without commercials or billboards
without Vogue and Harpers Bazaar
without mascara, lipgloss, blush
without a choice of what to wear each day
without labels
without starbucks or Dean and Deluca or Jeds
without my laptop
without itunes, ipods or music
without facebook, email, google
without a car
without an address, a job, a home
without any of the things I used to think I needed
i am happy
Logrono to Burgos - the abridged version
ok, so I've been very slack with ny posts for the last week or so, mainly due to a total lack of computer facilities. but here is the brief run down of my adventures...
I last posted in Logrono, where I met up with Olaf, a guy who has walked from his house in the Netherlands. We decided to cook dinner together and had grand adventures trying to find basic stir-fry ingredients in the world's largest supermarket. I couldn't buy carrots because they only came in 1kg bags, I couldn't buy soap because I didn't need 4 bars. When we got back to the albergue, Jerome and Eric had arrived. I had met Jerome a few times in France and the three of us had eaten lunch together that day. He suggested we all eat dinner together and so my stir-fry joined forces with a provencal egg and tomato dish followed by some egg custard dessert things. Happily fed we went to the dormitory to sleep. Well, we tried.
There were about 24 bunks in the dormitory and I was on a top bunk in a group of 8 beds separated by a wall. The man below me started to snore. And I do mean SNORE. It was deafening. At one point I leaned over the edge and looked down at him to make sure it was real. The other people in my group of bunks were all awake and every time one of them turned over all the beds shook. Then one of the guys started kicking the wall to try and wake up the snoring guy. At about 5am I gave up and went out to the kitchen to find Jerome who'd been there since 4am. One by one, bleary eyed pilgrims emerged.
I headed off intending to walk around 28kms. I gave up from exhaustion after 17 at a place called Ventosa. It was cold and a bit rainy and time to stop. The albergue was lovely, with a fire and an Italian hospitaliara called Romina. I slept, ddi laundry and recovered. A few hours later, Jerome and Eric arrived. This was the beginning of my new Camino family. We cooked dinner together... ok they cooked and I ate. But I washed up.
The next day was glorious, sunshine after almost a week of cloud and rain. I cannot really describe this day but suffice to say that my Camino changed here, and it became something much greater than a walk. I stopped that day in Santo Domingo de Calzada, a town built by Saint Domingo for the pilgrims. I mean he built everything - the bridge, the roads, the hospitals, everything. It is the oldest pilgrim hostel on the path. The day after, I ddi only 6kms in the freezing rain and wind and decided to stop in Granon. I arrived at the albergue at about 11am. We slept in the old bell tower of the church and this was one of the most special places for me along the way. We all sat in front of the fire and played cards, talked, read, drank tea and relaxed. After a beautiful meal the hospitaliros took us downstairs for a prayer session. Everyone read something in their own language, we spoke about the meaning and the spirit of the road, and we wished each other buen camino.
When I woke up the following morning the weather had made a serious turn for the worse. It was blowing a tempest and it was actually hard to walk sometimes. But as someone said to us, if it is sunny, you walk, if it rains, you walk. So I walked.
Skipping forward a few days and we found ourselves in Atapuerca, where they found the oldest known remains in Europe of prehistoric man. We were given food by some German people staying nearby and a Spanish guy taught us the rules for Spanish dominos which made the game much more interesting.
Burgos was the next stop and for me the most eventful part of my time there was my trip to the Commercial zone to buy ski gloves. Yes, it is that cold. I took a bus to this HUGE area with nothing but a carpark surrounded by HUGE shops. It took me about three hours to gt out there, shop and back and all I needed were gloves and coffee. Going to supermarkets and shops is so interesting because I realise I just don-t need all this stuff. Less is absolutely more.
After Burgos we started the meseta, 200kms of barren, flat, treeless fields and plains. It sounds dull but it has honestly been one of the most powerful and beautiful parts of the road. Today we walked for 17kms before there was a town with a cafe. 12kms of that was along an old road that just went straight ahead, no turns, no bends. Time seems to stop and it feels as if you will never reach anything until you literally fall into the village. We have another 3 days until Leon where I think I will take a day off. I last rested on the 12th of October, so I think it might be time.
I last posted in Logrono, where I met up with Olaf, a guy who has walked from his house in the Netherlands. We decided to cook dinner together and had grand adventures trying to find basic stir-fry ingredients in the world's largest supermarket. I couldn't buy carrots because they only came in 1kg bags, I couldn't buy soap because I didn't need 4 bars. When we got back to the albergue, Jerome and Eric had arrived. I had met Jerome a few times in France and the three of us had eaten lunch together that day. He suggested we all eat dinner together and so my stir-fry joined forces with a provencal egg and tomato dish followed by some egg custard dessert things. Happily fed we went to the dormitory to sleep. Well, we tried.
There were about 24 bunks in the dormitory and I was on a top bunk in a group of 8 beds separated by a wall. The man below me started to snore. And I do mean SNORE. It was deafening. At one point I leaned over the edge and looked down at him to make sure it was real. The other people in my group of bunks were all awake and every time one of them turned over all the beds shook. Then one of the guys started kicking the wall to try and wake up the snoring guy. At about 5am I gave up and went out to the kitchen to find Jerome who'd been there since 4am. One by one, bleary eyed pilgrims emerged.
I headed off intending to walk around 28kms. I gave up from exhaustion after 17 at a place called Ventosa. It was cold and a bit rainy and time to stop. The albergue was lovely, with a fire and an Italian hospitaliara called Romina. I slept, ddi laundry and recovered. A few hours later, Jerome and Eric arrived. This was the beginning of my new Camino family. We cooked dinner together... ok they cooked and I ate. But I washed up.
The next day was glorious, sunshine after almost a week of cloud and rain. I cannot really describe this day but suffice to say that my Camino changed here, and it became something much greater than a walk. I stopped that day in Santo Domingo de Calzada, a town built by Saint Domingo for the pilgrims. I mean he built everything - the bridge, the roads, the hospitals, everything. It is the oldest pilgrim hostel on the path. The day after, I ddi only 6kms in the freezing rain and wind and decided to stop in Granon. I arrived at the albergue at about 11am. We slept in the old bell tower of the church and this was one of the most special places for me along the way. We all sat in front of the fire and played cards, talked, read, drank tea and relaxed. After a beautiful meal the hospitaliros took us downstairs for a prayer session. Everyone read something in their own language, we spoke about the meaning and the spirit of the road, and we wished each other buen camino.
When I woke up the following morning the weather had made a serious turn for the worse. It was blowing a tempest and it was actually hard to walk sometimes. But as someone said to us, if it is sunny, you walk, if it rains, you walk. So I walked.
Skipping forward a few days and we found ourselves in Atapuerca, where they found the oldest known remains in Europe of prehistoric man. We were given food by some German people staying nearby and a Spanish guy taught us the rules for Spanish dominos which made the game much more interesting.
Burgos was the next stop and for me the most eventful part of my time there was my trip to the Commercial zone to buy ski gloves. Yes, it is that cold. I took a bus to this HUGE area with nothing but a carpark surrounded by HUGE shops. It took me about three hours to gt out there, shop and back and all I needed were gloves and coffee. Going to supermarkets and shops is so interesting because I realise I just don-t need all this stuff. Less is absolutely more.
After Burgos we started the meseta, 200kms of barren, flat, treeless fields and plains. It sounds dull but it has honestly been one of the most powerful and beautiful parts of the road. Today we walked for 17kms before there was a town with a cafe. 12kms of that was along an old road that just went straight ahead, no turns, no bends. Time seems to stop and it feels as if you will never reach anything until you literally fall into the village. We have another 3 days until Leon where I think I will take a day off. I last rested on the 12th of October, so I think it might be time.
Saturday 8 November 2008
yes, i'm still alive!
ok, apologies to all those who are using my blog posts to assure themselves that i'm still ok - I've been travelling through some seriously small villages and remote areas and also doing some long days. The Spanish camino is so totally different from the French road that it doesn't even feel like the same trip. I'm currently in Fromista, about 40kms into the Meseta, an endless rolling plateau between Burgos and Leon that goes for 200kms. There's nothing, and I mean nothing, out here but the tilled fields and the occasional tree. It's mind-blowingly beautiful. I'm walking with two French guys, Jerome and Eric, at the moment.After a long time (almost 6 weeks) of walking solo it's nice to share the day with people. I have many many stories to tell (like Playschool!) but there are no bears here... sorry, a joke for the Australians... Anyway, we have 20kms to go and I'll write more another time. Suffice to say that the last 2 weeks has been incredible and this road is much more than I expected or could have believed. I promise there'll be more soon, until then, much love and many hugs to all.
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