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!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
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.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
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!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
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.
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.
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