Back again

Well, my time in Europe is over for now.  I've discovered that I like being a pilgrim much more than being a tourist, so a stopover in New York to get past jet lag and begin speaking English again, and then back to Toronto until the travel bug hits again.  See you soon.

Portugal

It took a while for me to get to Portugal. Part of the integration process involved leaving Spain slowly and consciously, and the best way for me to do that was to walk. I wasn't sure how far I would need to walk for that to happen ... turns out it was the 100 km to Portugal. A very healing process to follow a Camino in reverse, meeting many pilgrims on the way who were going to Santiago. There are of course many stories from this too, but you´ll have to wait for the book.

For now, there is one story in Portugal waiting to be told. My second day in Portugal I hopped on a train to a town on the coast. My research had shown me that hotels there were either unavailable or very expensive there, but I went anyway, reasoning that there were likely accommodations available that weren't written up on the internet.

Two stops later, a woman got on the train and asked me if I was going to Viana, and told me that she rents out rooms in her house and would I like to look. I told her I would, and she sat down beside her friend for the rest of the journey.

When we got to the town, she walked me to her house, enthusiastically pointing out all the attractions along the way. She was dressed up, ready for mass, walked in tiny steps, and spoke very melodramatically. She seemed very much like a character from an Agatha Christie movie. She told me about her husband who had died 10 years ago, and spoke as if it had happened yesterday. I have no idea what language she was speaking ... sometimes I thought it was French, at other times Spanish, or it may have been Portuguese. Somehow I understood what she said, and she understood my Spanish answers.

At her house, she showed me my room, overlooking the river, and told me how tranquil it was. The price was right and it was easier than looking for a hotel, even though I realized my privacy would be compromised, so I took the room. She then proceeded to scrub the entire house from top to bottom because she had a house guest.

A while later when I returned to my room, ready to rest, she showed me pictures of all her nieces and nephews and grandchildren. Then she told me how tired she was from cleaning all day, and she went to eat. After eating, she retired to the room next to mine and turned on her TV and loudly cheered for the soccer team of her choice. This seemed so incongruous with an Agatha Christie character.

I decided this was not exactly tranquil, so I went down to the river to find a seat for the concert which was to happen that evening. I was quite excited to have found another festival, and watched the parade come in, led by men firing rifles, and followed by all the performers. Lots of music and dancing, and I enjoyed watching the festivities. When I was tired, I returned to my room to find the windows had been closed and the bedsheets turned down. This tranquil room was within easy earshot of the stage, and I was lulled to sleep by the sound of accordions and bagpipes.

Onward

I am on my way to Portugal to reflect on my journey. This is an inward time for me, so I probably won't be blogging for a while.

Thank you to all of you for your encouragement and support.

Finisterre and Muxia

I couldn't stop walking after Santiago. Last time I was here I had wanted to walk to Finisterre, to the end of the world, but hurricane-like weather prevented me from making the journey on foot. So this time, I walked it. Only got soaked one day ... the others were surprisingly sunny, or at least a mix of sun and rain.

It felt wonderful to walk to the ocean, and to meet many other pilgrims from the other routes. Lots of camaraderie, and a new energy for that part of my journey.

I then walked from Finisterre to Muxia, a small fishing village which is a great place to rest after a very long walk. Beautiful, relaxed, on the ocean. Still lots of peregrinos celebrating the walk, resting, a quiet energy. And today is sunny, so I shall enjoy watching the waves.

Santiago de Compostela

I'm here in Santiago ... 1000 km!

I arrived yesterday, in a light rain. The people I'd been walking with for a couple of days walked in on the highway, 2 km shorter, but I chose the Camino, for I wanted to experience one more time the view of the magical forests, the sound of the birds, the smell of the herbs as I brushed against them, the beauty of the spring flowers in full bloom. I didn't recognize many of the plants I'd been seeing because they are so large here ... rosemary bushes and aloe vera, both as high as a house.

The way in to Santiago from this route provides the best view. I'd been expecting Santiago to feel like just another city, as it did on the Camino Frances, but I was pleasantly surprised. The cathedral was in full view about 1 km in advance, after climbing a hill, and then the path led straight to the cathedral. On the way I encountered several pilgrims I had met earlier, and they gave me a warm welcome.

The way took me past the tourismo, who reserved a room for me, and then to the cathedral. As I walked up the steps, the bells sounded to indicate that the pilgrims mass was just starting. The nun with the nightingale voice was singing, and the service included some of my favourite Taize songs. And then the botafumeiro ... the large incense burner which is swung on ropes across the cathedral, historically to mask the scent of pilgrims who have walked for thousands of km to get to the cathedral. It's wonderful to watch, and very unpredictable as to when they will choose to swing it ... it keeps people coming to mass, hoping to see it.

I have met more pilgrims in the last day than in the entire two months of my walk. Many pilgrims from the Camino Frances, eager to hear stories about the Via de la Plata, as they arrive in Santiago eager to walk again. And everyone with huge smiles on their faces. It feels wonderful to be here, and I am just soaking it in, relaxing, and enjoying being here.

Ourense

I'm in the home stretch ... just over 100 km to go.

There are many more pilgrims on the trail now. It seems it all depends which day you go as to how many people you meet. In over a week, I saw only 5 other pilgrims, but two days behind were people who said they had 25-30 people in the albergue every night. I am staying an extra night in Ourense, preparing for the last stretch, and allowing the group to get ahead, hoping for a smaller group tomorrow.

The landscape is also less isolated here ... little villages every few kilometers. It still has plenty of ups and downs in terrain, though not quite as intense as the previous few days. After one of the steep stretches there was a lovely pilgrim-friendly bar, where the owner gave everyone a scallop shell on which we wrote our names and he nailed them to the wall, to the ceiling, wherever he could ... there are hundreds, but very few from Canada. There was a warm fire there, a friendly cat, good food, and wonderful camaraderie as we shared our experiences and prepared for the next stretch.

There is a festival happening here in Ourense ... the guidebooks said it was yesterday, and I was disappointed not to find it, but in reality it is happening today. A parade went by my hostal as I was waiting for the room. Lots of floats made of spring flowers, music of bagpipes, children dancing with flowers in their hair. It's great to soak in the energy of another Spanish festival ... light and airy, welcoming spring. And the 29 degree weather welcomes it too ... a pleasant surprise for Galicia.

A Gudiña

I have scaled the highest mountains on the trip. Didn't get to touch snow, but it was on the next mountain over. It was all melting on the mountains I climbed, the trails looking and sounding more like waterfalls than like paths for pilgrims to walk on.

Walking sticks are extremely useful when climbing and descending waterfalls ... they are helpful for checking which stones are sturdy, testing the depth of the water, balancing, giving me a head start on leaping those stones that appear just a bit too far. It requires constant concentration, and walking through mud is such a pleasure by comparison.

When the paths are a bit simpler, I am able to admire the beauty ... the pink and yellow flowers on the hillside, the streams and waterfalls, the old trees and interesting rocks. Some of the trees have been there for hundreds of years, and have a character all their own, and it is easy to see how fairies and other such creatures must be living there. This is even easier to see when I am walking with a professional story-teller, as I have been off and on for the past few days. It is really an ideal setting for hearing fairy tales, complete with idyllic landscapes and old castles.

The way was really empty for quite a while ... I met only five pilgrims in over a week. But now, a big group more, all walking at different speeds, but it is good to know that there are others on the route as well, and nicer albergues now that we are in Galicia ... places with kitchens and heat.

The weather has been wonderful for the past week, no rain until today, and quite warm. One evening I stayed at Teresa's place. It's not written up in any of the guidebooks ... there appears to be a long stretch with nowhere to stay. But the hospitalero two towns back said to just go to the town and ask for Teresa ... and it worked. A couple of men outside the bar came to meet me and walked me over to her place. It included an unfinished room which was used as an open air terrace ... the evening was warm and an ideal place to watch the sunset.

I am very excited to have entered Galicia today. I have now walked as far as I did on the Camino Frances, and I can eat all my favourite foods once again ... I shall describe them another day, after I have savoured them once again.

Santa Croya de la Tera

A beautiful sunny warm day today ... feels so good to soak in the sun, to be warm.

I have started heading west towards Galicia ... saw the snow-capped mountains today, and the road has become more winding and hilly. This is a relief. The meseta is beautiful, with the bright green new fields and the blue, blue Spanish sky ... bluer here than anywhere else. And it's thrilling to be in the middle of nowhere, seeing nothing but sky and fields. But the mind can go a bit crazy there, and I was looking forward to ignoring a track to the left ... it was the only landmark listed in my guidebook.

There is nowhere to paint arrows on the Meseta, so whoever does this is very creative. Sometimes they arrange rocks, or find one of the larger stones in the gravel road. Sometimes it's on a piece of cement overgrown with weeds. When I get to an intersection on the Meseta, I must simply stop and wait for the arrow to appear, for it always does if I stop looking for it.

Today I am at a lovely albergue which has been advertised ever since Zamora. The people who run it are very friendly, and it is clean and well-equipped. There was a shady little hut on the way here, after climbing a large hill, and those of us who stopped for lunch there decided this would be a wonderful place to stop for the day, and I am glad we did, for the owners have suggested places to stay along the next stretch that were not in any of our guidebooks, and it makes the next stretch possible.

Also we were rewarded in the evening with a tour of their bodega. Bodegas are hobbit-like huts in the hill, built over a century ago for storing wine. None of us expected these small doorways to open into a big room with tables and benches, and a floor downstairs with the wine cellars. The inside of the bodega was quite large and comfortable ... a real treat to see the inside of the bodegas we've been passing for the last while.

Zamora

Another Sunday afternoon spent strolling along castle walls, looking through the windows at the countryside below, while the walls protect me from the wind.

This is the Meseta ... flat, windy, windy, windy. Walking at an angle to keep myself from falling into traffic. And as soon as it stops raining, my poncho dries, becomes lightweight again, and billows in the wind. And rainy too. The sounds of the Camino are wind and rain, and the footsteps of pilgrims, which are now a squishy sound as we walk through the red mud. Rather than the ups and downs of the earlier part of the Camino, steps are sideways, searching for spots in the road that are not filled with water. And just when this becomes discouraging, a field of yellow flowers encourages me onward.

I'm taking a rest day in Zamora, a city with 19 Romanesque churches. I have seen about 7 so far ... I shall see as many of the others as I have time for this evening. On this Camino the Romanesque churches are all different, filled with different images ... they are richer churches here, better kept than those on the Camino Frances.

My fascination with Semana Santa prompted me to visit the Semana Santa museum here. I think that has taken care of my fascination. It is very eerie seeing 30 of these floats all close together, depicting various stages of crucifixion and mourning, with masked statues standing guard. The glory of Semana Santa is not in these floats, but in the life and excitement of those who carry them and those who stand by cheering them on.

And now, it is time to stroll the streets of the city. Apparently everyone goes for a Sunday afternoon walk here, and I shall go out to join them.

Salamanca

At last I am in Salamanca, my favourite place on the Camino so far. But I say that nearly every day. Each day, around every corner, the scenes so beautiful and unexpected. Some days so peaceful and quiet, others filled with the bells of animals or the sounds of rain. The skies so blue ... bluer in Spain than anywhere else. Even the entrance to Salamanca was through a park with sheep grazing on the hillside, rather than through industry like it is in so many cities.

The Plaza Mayor in Salamanca is famous ... the best in Spain. And I sit there, glued to a bench, soaking in the energy and watching the people go by, chatting with those who sit to join me. There are restaurants all around the plaza where people quietly enjoy refreshments. And in the centre, students sitting on the concrete enjoying their lunches, soaking in the warm sun.

The walk to Salamanca was cold and wet. In one village they said there had been snow that morning. Although I have walked in rain only a few days so far, I have been dealing with the aftermath of rain also. The roads have become rivers at some points, and my boots have taken a few soakings. They started coming apart a couple of days ago, and I thought how fortunate that this happened right before a big city where I could get them repaired while I rest.

I have been traveling for some days with 3 French pilgrims, 3 Dutch pilgrims, and 2 German pilgrims. We have enjoyed sharing stories of our travels, and those of us who walk alone agree that one of the most difficult things to do is to put on a rain poncho over a backpack. It is necessary to face into the wind, using its assistance to help blow the poncho over the backpack. Also using a walking stick to push it up just a bit higher will sometimes do the trick. And everyone shares the same hesitation about walking among those cows in a red poncho.

Last night I dined with the German pilgrims, the only ones of this group still in Salamanca. One of them was celebrating a birthday, so we chose a special restaurant. I ordered the tuna with chocolate. I received two tuna steaks, one covered with a rich dark chocolate sauce and the other with white chocolate sauce. We were all surprised at how good it was. And this morning ... no need for my special city breakfast of churros with chocolate ... I chose a more sensible alternative of fresh fruit.

Hervas

I'm at a wonderful albergue at the moment ... sounds of Vivaldi the first classical music I've heard since I've been here, and it makes me want to stay, particularly since it is once again cold and rainy ... unusual for this time of year they tell me.

I try to wait out the heaviest rains near some kind of shelter, but this is not always possible, and my boots are still wet from yesterday. The other day another peregrina and I were standing under a large tree when we heard thunder and realized that was not the best place to be. We ducked into a nearby barn and had a lovely picnic there. Then proceeded to an arch in the middle of nowhere where we were picked up to go to a nearby hostal ... was glad there was an option to break up the otherwise 40 km walk in the rain.

I have decided to start eating more ... need a lot of food to sustain me on these walks. This is no problem at this albergue ... Ignacio, the hospitalero, made me 5 pieces of toast for breakfast and then offered more.

I am nearly to the halfway point of my walk ... have been looking forward to Salamanca as a resting point. Yesterday I saw that it is still 99 km away by road, probably longer by Camino, so it will be a few more days, though the villages are interesting along the way.

Plasencia

I have been through a lot of little villages since I last wrote. The weather has been very hot, making it necessary to travel early in the day, and I understand the tradition of siestas. Though now it has turned and become cool and rainy again.

It is bullfighting week here in Spain, so it is on TV at all the bars. Bars here are usually crowded and noisy and smoky, filled with men who are talking and laughing. But during the bullfights they are silent with the suspense, and then break out into cheers when the torreador is successful.

One night I found an albergue in the middle of nowhere ... nothing to do there, nowhere to go. It was exactly what I needed. The hospitalero heated up frozen pizzas for us. I shared the place with three English pilgrims with whom I've been traveling for several days.

The scenery has been beautiful, rolling hills, big boulders, lots of green ... the sound of bells on the cattle and the sheep is a constant companion. Many birds and butterflies as well ... and lines of ants and salamanders crossing the road.

A couple of nights ago there were 7 peregrinos at the albergue and we all ate together at the restaurant next door. We were under the impression that the meal would be salad and pasta, but the owner-cook-server had her own ideas. She brought salad to some of us, pasta to others. One pilgrim was only joining us for wine, but she brought him tortilla (a wonderful dish made with eggs and potatoes). We had no idea how she decided who would get what, but we were laughing so hard it was difficult to eat.

When we finished the first course, she brought out tortilla to some pilgrims, and slabs of pork and fries to others. We waited to see what would be next. Then for dessert, she insisted that we eat her homemade custard, for the other choices were all 'industrial'. None of us dared to ask for anything different. Then a round of liqueurs ... she chose those for us too. I would have liked the local specialty made from acorns, but was served an herbed orujo instead. An interesting evening all around. And in the morning she came downstairs with curlers in her hair to serve us our breakfast.

Today I am at a little village just off the Camino, suggested as a good detour point, and in the rain, it seemed as good a place to spend the day as any. There is little information available about what is open on the next section of the Camino ... this all changes daily, so I am interested to see where I shall go next.

Caceres

Today I have reached Caceres ... another big city on the trail. As is common with big cities, it was not well waymarked and I lost sight of the yellow arrows altogether. So I followed the music of guitar and recorder ... medieval sounds that perfectly match this walled city. As I listened, the sun was shining warmly, a gentle breeze blowing, and a cobblestone street beneath my feet. The view was of a castle, and in the background a green field with horses. I didn't mind being lost at all.


The turismo was closed when I arrived, and is now closed again, but I obtained a map from a police officer, enjoyed a cerveza with a plate of olives while I mapped out where I could have walked if I had seen the arrows. Spied two pilgrims receiving directions from someone, so quickly paid my bill and followed them, but by then they had disappeared .. but I walked straight into a library, which was one of the things I had been looking for. The other was accommodation, and while I was wandering I found a lovely little pension, so that is taken care of too.


This is a beautiful city, full of interesting casas to wander into ... not sure how it all works really, but will spend the morning here tomorrow also and walk only 11 km.

Last night I stayed in a small town ... in an albergue that had only 4 beds, a big dining room, a fully equipped kitchen, a bathroom with spare toilet paper and hot water, extra blankets, and a washer and dryer. What a wonderful find for only 3 euros. And I had the place to myself.

Yesterday I walked for a time with Emilio, a man who lives 3 km out of the village, on the Camino trail. Every morning he walks into the village for coffee, and then walks back home, talking with a pilgrim on the way. I often wonder what it would be like to live on this trail and have strangers with backpacks passing through every day.

I have been enjoying watching the storks on top of every church. There was a time change this weekend, so it is now still dark when I get up and I can enjoy watching them silhouetted while I drink my morning coffee. Then later in the day I watch them while I eat lunch in the square ... yesterday one was gracefully caring for its young.

In the evening, I asked a man where I could find a grocery store, in order to buy supplies to use in my fully equipped kitchen, and he proceeded to draw me a map of where I could go to view many many storks. He was quite insistent on telling me about this place, 8 km out of the way. I thanked him, and told him I was walking, and walked on, but he drove after me to give me this map. There are plenty of storks here in Caceres too though, and I have enjoyed watching them with 3 young Spanish women before we went to the musesum.


For tonight ... a good meal, and a good night's rest in my wonderful little pension.

Alcuescar

A surprise to have a few minutes free at a library while everything else is closed, so I can write a few words til someone else asks for the computer.

The landscape has become hilly again, a bit more difficult for walking, but surprises around every corner. Today I walked through a park with beautiful wildflowers all along ... I´ve been told that this is one of the most beautiful sections of the camino ... muy bonito ... though it seems that I hear nothing but wonderful reports of everywhere ... most of them warranted.

All but two of the people that I have met have walked more caminos than I have, and we all continue to do it for the same reasons ... we simply can't get it out of our systems ... we enjoy walking, being in nature every day, sharing meals and stories with other peregrinos ... and also for the gratitude that walking the Camino bestows. It's not only about seeing beautiful scenery and meeting people so full of life, but also about the feel of a hot shower (if we are lucky enough to have hot water) at the end of a long day of walking, how soft walking on grass feels compared to walking on the highway, and the delicious food enjoyed along the way. Simple things mean so much to a pilgrim.

Yesterday I stayed in a small village with a very lovely albergue, complete with a living room and kitchen. The owner was away for a few hours, and when she returned I asked her if the place usually had hot water. She was surprised that it was cold, quickly fixed it, and then took me to her house so I could use her hair dryer, since she felt so bad that I had had to wash my hair with cold water.

There are more new people walking the Camino all the time, and others who are leaving, so each day the group is different. Saying hello and goodbye to other pilgrims is becoming easier, especially when I see that we are able to keep in touch. Today I found a note from Rita, which she had left for me at her last albergue before returning to Germany. I was quite touched to receive pilgrim mail!

Merida

A very short post today ... the Internet cafe closes in a few minutes, and I have spent the morning looking at all the Roman ruins here. It is a very beautiful city ... and it´s sunny and warm today. I'm taking a rest day here, after walking 30 km yesterday with a Marino and Enrique from Bilbao. We walked very quickly, and laughed a lot, and I am sure they are well ahead of me by now. Also met a couple from Australia who were delighted to meet someone who spoke English, so we spent a lovely evening together. I shall write more of my adventures the next time I find internet.

Zafra

For the first time in a long while I am in a city big enough to have Internet. I was told that the cybercafe would open at 7:30 a.m., which seemed impossible for Spain, and indeed it was locked even at noon. Looking for a spot to eat my first napolitana chocolate of this journey, I spied a library, and am now typing for free ... even better. This is the way of the Camino.

My blisters are somewhat better, after using every conceivable cure for them, and resting them at times also. I'm sure my new pink socks are partly responsible for the cure... after all, how can feet possibly be unhappy in pink socks?

I'm very glad that my blisters held me up, for my rest day was a day of pouring rain, and I would not have enjoyed walking 30 km on slopes made slippery by the rain. Also, there is a much smaller group of pilgrims walking now, which means that there is no rush to get a spot in the albergue ... walking is now much more relaxed.

The countryside has been quite hilly for the most part, gradually climbing, though now more level for a bit. The hills mean itś only possible to walk about 4 km per hour. And now that it's a bit more level, I walk into a biting cold wind much of the time. I have been wearing everything that I brought in order to keep warm ... a steaming hot bowl of soup makes a wonderful end to the day.

The trail runs through parks, highways, and farmland ... many farms. I open gate after gate and travel through, wondering what will be on the other side. One day, shortly after passing through a gate, I found a big stone fence two feet to my right, and to the left, a herd of cattle ... large cattle with long horns, and no fence. I recalled that cattle are gentle animals and decided that the best course of action was to believe that and to continue walking. I was glad that it wasn't raining, for I would have felt like a target in my big red rain poncho. And I learned that what I had heard about cattle was correct.

Another day the trail was blocked by a flock of sheep. I continued forward, and as I walked, the sheep walked in front of me. For about 500 m we continued this way, and I felt like a shepherd, guiding the flock to greener pastures. When we found the pastures, the sheep turned off to graze, and I continued on my way.

Like the Camino Frances, this Camino is full of angels, appearing exactly when help is needed. When the arrows are unclear, someone materializes out of nowhere to point out the way. Pedro and Christina, two pilgrims from northern Spain have certainly been angels all along the way. Whenever I arrive in a village looking for accommodation, they suddenly appear, having already checked out all the lodging and mysteriously obtaining a key from offices with signs indicating that they are closed. They obtain information for me in Spanish, and then patiently repeat it in a simpler Spanish that I can understand. They reappear when the museums open, and find all the interesting places to visit.

Semana Santa is now over, but I have seen processions in several of the villages along the way. In one village, Pedro led us into a church to get an inside view of how the big floats are moved through the small doorways. The floats are very heavy, each person under them carrying 50 kg or so, and there are special hospitals to treat their injuries. But the doorways are too low for them to carry the floats by walking underneath, so they move to the sides, the float tipping precariously where someone is not strong enough to hold its weight. We watch breathlessly as the float makes it through the doorway with only minor damage. And that is quickly repaired by a man with a ladder who follows for just such occurrences.

At times when my feet ache I wonder why I have chosen to walk this path, and then I know, for just around the corner I spy an old castle with sheep grazing around it peacefully ... the views while walking are stunning, and I stop frequently just to take in the beauty. In the evening I may find myself with a group of people eating tapas ... forks flying into the communal plates as we share what life is like in our countries.

I am also encouraged to know that the pilgrim grapevine works as well on this trail as on the Camino Frances. I had a 10'minute conversation with a pilgrim I encountered along the way (entirely in Spanish ... a real sense of accomplishment to be able to do this), and he asked if I had seen the German peregrina who had been left behind with stomach problems. Later that evening when a German peregrina walked into the albergue, I knew it was her. We walked together all day yesterday, though today she is taking a bus a few stops ahead due to time constraints. However I know she will carry news of me to the pilgrims that I said goodbye to on my rest day, and I am comforted to know that we are all connected.

Castilblanco

There is a special kind of bond that forms when sharing small suboptimal quarters with each other, so the next morning over breakfast ... cafe con leche which is the morning fuel of pilgrims ... and tostadas (toasted baguette), we designed some padding to put around my blisters so I would be able to walk with Rita and Fernando to Castilblanco, a short day of only 18 km.

I walked straight through, fearing that if I sat down I´d be unable to get up again. Much of the time I walked with Rita, my new-found friend from Germany. It was an enjoyable walk, where we discovered that we had both taken a 10-day Vipassana course, and share a fondness for Taize music. Like many of the pilgrims on the Via de la Plata, we had both previously walked the Camino Frances, and found that a part of us had been left in Spain, calling us to walk again.

The way was easy, and we arrived in Castilblanco by 1pm. We were pleased to find an albergue that contained beds with real mattresses, separate washrooms, and a wonderful terrace on which to relax, dry our clothes, and take care of our feet, as pilgrims must do.

In spite of our early arrival, the day flew by quickly. We walked across the street for something to eat, and purchased equipment with which to address my blisters. A scalpel and yellow disinfecting liquid were reported to be the best cure, but my blisters are too fresh, and immediatly refill.

So today, after a mere two days on the Camino, I am taking a rest day, allowing my blisters time to heal before attempting a 30 km day tomorrow. A young woman who is walking with her father is in a similar situation. We bid farewell to our new friends and are spending a quiet day, relaxing here in Castilblanco. Though I would love to walk with my friends, it feels right to be sitting here, slowing down my pace ... waiting til mañana when perhaps my feet and my mind will be in the same place and Iĺl be able to walk comfortably again.

Guillena

My pilgrimage has begun! It feels wonderful to be on the road again, walking sticks in hand, everything I need on my back, walking through the varying Spanish countryside.

Day 1 ... I left Sevilla before the parade began. Surprisingly the way was well-marked out of the city ... no need for a map ... just following the yellow arrows.

In Sevilla, the peregrina (Spanish for pilgrim) seems not to be a common sight. Everyone stares at a woman with a big backpack, two walking sticks, and a wide-brimmed Tilley hat, but 10 km outside of Sevilla, it felt more like the Camino Frances, with locals pointing the way and giving directions.

I enjoyed a leisurely walk, stopping for tapas half-way along ... not sure what they were, as the food in Andalucia is not listed in my dictionary, nor was I able to identify it by eating it ... it was good, and it was fried. No longer must I wait til the evening meal for fried food, which seems to be a mainstay here.

The second part of my journey necessitated removing my boots and wading through a stream. It is there that I got blisters on the soles of my feet ... large painful blisters. I´m not sure how this is possible for someone who walks as much as I do, but apparently it is.

I continued on my way to Guillena, the first town on my itinerary, and was greeted by a man who pointed the way to the police station where I could pick up the key to the pilgrims' albergue. My guidebook indicated that these accommodations were spartan, so I inquired at a private hostal, which had no vacancy ... it was already occupied by other pilgrims.

So I made my way back to the police station, where I was told that there was only one key, and he had already given it to two other pilgrims. So I returned to the albergue, where a group of boys, about age 10 were playing soccer at the sports complex just outside. They were very helpful, knocking at the doors, shouting, throwing things at the door, to try to get the residents to open it for me, but alas, the pilgrims were not inside. I knew they had been there, for I saw laundry hanging out the window, so I removed my backpack and boots and settled in to wait for the other pilgrims to return.

The boys seemed to feel bad that they were unable to help me, so periodically they talked together to formulate a question in English which they could ask me. Our conversation was fairly bizarre, limited by our common words. ¨What is your name? Do you play futbol? Do you like beef?¨ I was hoping the latter question would procure a meal, as I was becoming rather hungry by now.

Two hours later, it began to get cold and I was glad I had brought my extra fleece. The cold turned out to be a blessing, for it brought the other peregrinos back to the albergue to pick up their socks. They opened the door for me to the change room for the sports complex - our home for the night. A blue ceramic tile floor with two hard plastic mattresses, a toilet with a piece of tin to slide in front of the door for privacy, and a few showers. ¨Would you like to sleep in the shower or the toilet?¨ they asked.

They stepped outside so I could shower and then we all went for dinner together. We joined a mother and her 9-year-old daughter who were also walking the Camino, and who had arrived early enough to get the hostal with its bathtubs, thick mattresses, and fluffy towels. We enjoyed a multilingual meal ... English, Spanish, German, Basque ... and then returned to our spartan albergue and joined in a rousing chorus of La Cucaracha, inspired by the life within our quarters, before settling in for the night.

Semana Santa

Semana Santa - Holy Week

It´s a huge celebration in Seville, and is the reason I stayed an extra day ... to be with the crowds on the street, watching a medieval celebration where hundreds of penitents march in white robes and cone-shaped hats which cover their faces. On their feet (formerly) white socks, no shoes. Each carries a meter-long candle, using it as a staff.

Between each set of penitents is a large and elaborate float. The floats are carried by a group of people hidden underneath the skirt of the float. They must be suffocating in the heat, and each walks for at least four hours to get to the final destination ... wherever that is. The entire city is a big parade.

I had been told that people line up for hours to see the parade, that some buy chairs, booked month in advance. I wandered around, hoping to find a spot to see the parade, but I needn´t have worried ... I found spots to observe front and center, more often than necessary.

The first spot was on a small one way street, about 20 feet long. I was certain I had heard incorrectly when I asked if the parade would pass by there, but it did ... close enough to feel the swishes of the horse´s tails, the garments of the penitents, and to touch the floats. Close enough also to hear the trumpets blaring inches from my ears, and to smell the incense wafting up my nostrils. Like the solstice parade in Kensington market, this was a parade that was experienced. When the parade came by, silence would fall, everyone breathlessly watching whether the floats would make it under the bridge, and then letting out a huge cheer when they successfully cleared.

The next time I saw it was by the cathedral, where all the floats eventually come through. So many people watching here ... talking with each other, nearly oblivious to the celebrations. Although the parades are more impressive near the churches, they seem to be less vibrant there, more rehearsed.

And the next time I saw the parade it was dark. The candles were no longer used as staffs, but held high, dripping, staining the white robes red with wax. Finding my way home was nearly impossible, for everywhere I walked was another parade. Following the music works when the atmosphere is relatively silent, but at Semana Santa, it leads one into the middle of a marching band!

Sevilla

March 15

It´s amazing to be back in Spain again. I felt at home the moment the plane landed and I felt the warm breeze and heard the lilting Spanish voices.

Predictably, I got lost on my way to my hostel, and even felt at home in that. How often I have wandered the streets in Spain, searching in vain for the elusive street names, guessing when left really means right and vice versa. Yet this time it feels comfortable ... this being lost, as I soften into it and observe the adventures. My Spanish is better now too, so I can seek help more easily. I was wonderfully lost most of the day yesterday, and it led me to a birthday party with 50 people in a 5x8 room ... laughing and singing.

On the plane on the way over, the movie Autumn Rush was playing ... of course I had to see it since it involved a cello. The message in the movie is to follow the music, so that´s what I did today whenever I was lost ... it led me to flamenco buskers, and enthusiastic accordions. And I followed the smells of orange blossoms and street vendors selling incense. I put my map away, and followed the music, and I did not get lost.

I have also picked up my credencial, so I am now officially a pilgrim, a peregrina. And I spotted the first yellow arrow that will lead me to Santiago ... and it was right next to a homeopathic pharmacy.