Thursday, June 30, 2011

A Brief Walking Tour of Burgos

Mom and I just got back from a quick walk around the old part of Burgos. We went to the pharmacy to see if we could find Dad some tape for his feet, then, the bank, then we bought train tickets, and went in search (unsuccessfully) for gummy bears - the box I bought at Costco before I left has been exhausted.

We also walked by the cathedral, and along the river, but did not climb the hill up to the castle. I will save that for another trip, perhaps when Bryan Scott and I pick up cars in the summer of 2013. An M5? A 640CiC? A 740I? A 535i? Who knows.

At any rate there were lots of folks about, it is a fiesta after all, the patron saint of Burgos, Saint Somebody (probably a Pablo, Pedro, or Juan, but NOT Santiago). This reminded me of a conversation We'd had with Roberto and Sofia on the Camino a couple of days back: the last few conferences I've been to, there have been sessions the Generation Y, or the Millenials, and how to deal with them as they enter the workplace, for they are very different. I've dealt with them more in the classroom than the office, and they have some unique characteristics. While recognizing that I am generalizing grossly, and that's always dangerous, the Milennials often seem to have a sense of entitlement, and they were raised by parents who told them they were special, and could do anything. This often leads to friction with older generations, who still believe in "earning your stripes". Again, I am grossly generalizing, and this is only one facet of the Millenials.

I wondered if these characteristics were unique to this age group in the United States; it appears it is not. In Spain, they are called the "Generación NiNi" which means "Ni queren trabajar Ni quieren estudiar." in English, this translates a bit awkwardly: "They neither want to work nor study." They are only interested in their friends, their cars, their phones, their video games, their spending allowances, and going out. I wonder how much of that is the older generations' perception of all younger generations. Isn't there a song by The Who about that?

No Spanish Babies Were Jumped Over in the Creation Of This Post

Chris Macaluso, if you're reading this, we are staying tonight in the town where they jump over the babies once a year to cleanse them of original sin. I don't pretend to understand it, it must be a Catholic thing.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, we are making progress, albeit slowly. Today's climb took us up and over another mountain range (yay!) and into Burgos. The fog and mist of yesterday gave way to very cold temperatures and 40mph winds today, and I still do not have long sleeves or a jacket.

Voldemort is still chasing us, though today he had both a backpack and a female companion, whom I will christen Bellatrix Lestrange. They zipped into the bar just as we were finishing our first coffee break to get out of the cold, and then they marched past us double-time about a kilometer out of town. I imagine we will lose Voldy and Bella in Burgos, thank goodness.

Burgos is a sizable town, being a provincial capital, and so the last five miles of our trek was through the industrial complex of the city. This was a stark reminder that we are perhaps not out of the Great Recession as it's being called. It was much like walking through a ghost town, and I was reminded that unemployment in Spain is still hovering around 25%. I am feeling the need to be mindful and thankful of how blessed I am as a result.

Our hotel is situated near the cathedral in the old part of town, and once you are in the city proper and out of the wind, it's actually a beautiful day. I found an Internet deal and snagged us a two-story suite for 98 Euros. We had hoped to get out and do some walking around, and catch the bullfight, but I think we are all too tired.

Dad does not seem to be improving. His blisters are better, but his leg is worse, and in fact it felt feverish to the touch and he has a large bump about midway down his shin. This is his left leg. He did not even feel like going out to lunch, so Mom and I brought back a sandwich and coke for him (after we enjoyed some delicious tapas and sangria ourselves!). We have been trying to wheedle him in to getting his leg looked at in a clinic, but it would seem that my own tendency toward obstinence comes from both sides of the family in equal doses.

Tomorrow, we have a bit of a break. We are taking the train to the town of Sahagún, where we will resume our trek afoot on Saturday. Dad has promised that if he does not feel better when we arrive in Sahagún, he will stay there until he can meet us in León.

We are almost two weeks into the trek, and I am loving it. True, traveling with my folks and their various foibles is wearing on me, but I know that I have quirks that weigh on them too. This is the nature of traveling in close quarters for extended periods of time. So you try to have a little patience, or failing that you have a little wine!

Every little town we go through seems to have no shortage of old houses for sale. We have talked about buying one and renovating it, but I have a feeling this will probably not happen. It's simply one of those things that brings joy to dream about, and that's OK.

I do find myself thinking about friends and family back in the States quite a bit, especially those who have travelled with me to Spain. I wouldn't say I'm exactly homesick, but I am beginning to feel a bit out of touch. This is probably a good thing, as it means I am probably getting to a place mentally and emotionally where God can do some work.

A rather funny thing happened today as we were on the outside of the industrial complex, headed in to town. We were standing at a crosswalk when a couple of road workers in a van started honking, pointing, and laughing. Now, we are Americans, but it was obvious we weren't that strange, so we started looking around. On the other side of the street, in full view of God and everybody, a perfectly sober-seeming 80-year old man was relieving himself. I will admit,it was rather humorous. When the road workers drove by him they yelled at him, and let me tell you, he yelled back and gestured unequivocally....with his cane. Then he waddled across the street by us and said most politely, "Buenos Dias". I was laughing for the better part of a kilometer.

Not much else to report, really. It should be a low-key couple of days, I hope, free of snoring Germans, unintentional moonings at wayside bathroom breaks by my mother, or further problems with my father's feet or legs. Enjoy the pictures, and if you have a moment, let me know how it goes stateside!

Pictures - Villafranca Montes de Oca to Atapuerca

Here are some pictures of yesterday's walk

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Lord Voldemort is Following Us

March has arrived in Northern Spain, only four months late.  The cold and mist that set in yesterday afternoon turned to rain last night and decided it liked the area so much that it stayed as fog and mist this morning.    Accordingly, since we had a hotel reserved and heat was not going to be a factor in our walk today, we "slept in" (6:30) and enjoyed the hotel breakfast before setting out.

At breakfast, we learned that the people who had seeing to our needs were in fact the owners.  This got me thinking: what would it be like to run a renovated medieval pilgrim hospital in a town of 136 people as your own business, and try to be profitable?  Those people are clearly more adventurous than I, and I found that made me a little sad.  I have often wondered what it would be like to be in business for myself, and to depend on that business for my income, but I have never had the guts to try it.  I hope one day, I will, whatever the endeavor may be.

We were on the Camino by 8:30 and were immediately confronted by a stiff climb.  In fact, today was a climbing and descending day, and with the mist and fog, cold as well.  I suppose the British, with their usual penchant for eloquent understatement would have called the temperature "bracing".  I, being an uncouth straight-shooting colonial, called it "fricking freezing." This is mostly because we are in Spain in summer.  I did not bring long sleeves, much less a jacket.  Thus, I wore my rain poncho for most of the day, as it tended to insulate somewhat.  We also had to watch where we stepped on the trail, as the rain had brought out all manner of slugs and snails, including this rather large all-black slug that is about 6-7 inches long.  We have christened them "Giant Black Man-eating Slugs", and I'll post pictures as soon as I have a Wifi connection again.

The first seven miles of our hike were wilderness, through forest of pine and oak, and with the mist all around I kept expecting the come around a bend in the road and see a troop of medieval knights, or even Roman legionnaires, as the weather and landscape lent itself to the thought that not much had changed along the way from the time of Christ.  It was as if we journeyed in one of those scenes from a movie where the protagonist is somehow transported to a different time and place than the present.

This sentiment was shattered somewhat by a memorial to a group of people who were murdered at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War, at a spot on the Camino, in 1936.  You probably don't knowing about the Spanish Civil War, but the gist is this: Francisco Franco staged a coup d'état to overthrow the existing Republic (which had itself ousted the monarchy in 1931) and set up a fascist dictatorship.  The Spanish Civil War served as a testing grounds for both Allied (Russian) and Axis (German) military technology that would later be used in WWII, as the Germans aided Franco, and the Russians aides the Republic.  Like most wars, especially internal wars, many atrocities were committed on both sides.  In this case, supporters of the Republic had been murdered by Supporters of Franco.  If you feel the need to get a sense of what life was like in Spain during that era, I suggest watching the movie "Pan's Labyrinth.". Be forewarned, it is not a happy movie.

Nonetheless, the walk was enchanting, and I found myself back to musing on how things should be different in my life when I return to the States.  I also thought a lot an idea for a new book.  Admittedly, the later was easier to process than the former, and I find I am not ready to talk about either on my blog just yet.

We soon arrived at a town and a bar, which is a good thing: we were nearly frozen, and a bathroom break was definitely in order. The town was built around a monastery constructed around 1150 to help pilgrims navigate this difficult section of the Camino, which was fraught with bandits and robbers in medieval times.  The Queen (Isabella in this case), had visited in 1477 seeking a cure for infertility which apparently worked, thus this
Monastery has done decently well over the years.

After our brief stop and fortifying cups of coffee, it was down the hill and on to our destination today - Atapuerca.  We had been making good time, but after the stop, Dad started having leg trouble. Though his blisters seem to be healing, we may have to get his leg looked at in Burgos.

We've had a bit of a strange/funny thing happen on and off.  For several days, we've this this tall, bald Spanish man walking.  Sometimes he's in front of us, sometimes he's behind us.  He never says much.  He was in our hotel last night and he passed us walking today in a long black trench coat, blowing in the wind.  I swear he looked like You-Know-Who, and his appearances and reappearances have been a bit creepy.  In the last town before Atapuerca he materialized again, sitting on a bench in the main square.  We walked on, and before us was three kilometers of open highway with no shelter before we arrived in Atapuerca.  We were about halfway to Atapuerca, out in the open and dang it if Moldy Voldy himself didn't come out of nowhere behind us, walking.  As he passed us...again...I realized he didn't have a pack.  Who walks across Spain without a pack?  At any rate he moved on, and we laughed about it.  When we get to the hotel, guess who comes in a few minutes afterward?  Yep.  And his pack is waiting for him.  Turns out he's having his bag transported from place to place for him.  And he even has a family, or at least people who eat with him in the hotel dining room.

This reminds me of a phenomenon I've been meaning to tell you about: turegrinos.  This term is the combination of two Spanish words : turista (tourist) and peregrino (pilgrim).  Turegrinos are people who are, on the Camino de Santiago, but instead of walking with a pack (as we are attempting), they have a bus, and they get off and walk a bit, sans pack, and when they get tired the bus picks them up and they go on to the next point.  Nice gig, huh?  I suppose we too are technically cheating because we are taking the train in a couple of spots and not staying in the pilgrim hostels, but we are at least carrying our own packs.

Atapuerca seems like any other small Spanish rural town, except for one thing: the oldest evidence of human existence in Europe was discovered here, placing humans in this part of the world at least 780,000 years ago. Apparently, we are all at least a little Spanish.

We arrived at our hotel, which is a renovated house several hundred years old that once belonged to a priest.  Given the weather, which is supposed to clear by tomorrow, we have holed up for the day, though I wouldn't walking back out to the archaeological sites, if I could find the clothing and energy.

I am looking forward to being in Burgos tomorrow.  They have an extensive castle, and I have not spent any time in Burgos.  I'm also glad our new walking plan seems to be working well, but wish we were not battling various health issues.  Those make me a bit anxious from time to time.  I suppose that is all part of the Camino experience.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The Importance of Situational Awareness

I had to tighten my belt one notch tighter than usual today. I am taking that as a sign that I am losing weight, though most of the loss seems to be in my arms and legs, rather than my stomach, which is where I would prefer. Oh well.

Our hostess left us a breakfast of croissants, butter, jam and coffee this morning, so we took our time eating and left about 6:30. Do you remember reading the story of "The Poky Little Puppy" when you were growing up? That was us today on the hike. The weather started out clear, but clouds quickly set in, which was great because it kept the temperatures down and the mist and fog lent a rather mystical quality to the countryside. We are now on the Meseta, the high plain that makes up most of the Spanish countryside. The hills are gentle and rolling, and mostly farmland. It is neat to see an ancient church poking up out of the mist as you come around a bend in the road and see a town off in the distance. This happened with surprising regularity today.

Most of our walk sent me to Wikipedia to review my medieval Spanish history once we arrived at the hotel. On the walk in to town, we passed a ruin (picture attached) marked as being the ruins of an OLD (6th century) monastery that was supposedly also a pilgrim hospital/waypoint before it was abandoned in the 9th century. I had to scratch my head at that one, because the Romans left Spain in the mid-5th century. Any monastery founded in the 6th was Visigothic, and If it were a pilgrim hospital, this presents other difficulties.

The supposed tomb of Santiago was discovered in 813, so the monastery could not have been a pilgrim hospital for very long before being abandoned. There is an additional complication in that much of this part of Spain was a "demilitarized zone" between the nascent Christian kingdoms that formed the Spanish March of Charlemagne and the Moslem kingdom to the south. The area was considered too dangerous with armies moving back and forth and constantly shifting borders to support permanent inhabitants. The histories I've been able to find are sketchy on when this area of Spain was re-populated, with colonization encouraged through grants of land to freedmen by the kings of the various states, but again, it is possible. The founder of the City of Burgos, a major Provincial capital, and once capital of the kingdom of Castile is buried in the ruins. He died in 882 or so, this would also lend veracity to the signpost.

The town itself is nice, but there is a major highway running through the middle of it, with a lot of truck traffic. Supposedly a bypass is being constructed, but based on the discussion we heard between the hotel concierge and a hotel guest when we entered, this bypass is a point of much contention in the town of 136 inhabitants.

The hotel is also a medieval pilgrim hospital, and was built and funded by the Queen of Castile (this sent me running back to Wikipedia: the Queen in question was Eleanor of England, daughter of Eleanor of Aquitane) in 1183. The Queen, of course, had her own private chambers, entrance and chapel. We, as proletariat paying guests, do not. We do have a nice corner room with a view of the town church. The hospital apparently housed as many as 2,800 sick pilgrims at one time. This seems like a lot to me given the size of the place, but since medieval medical technology was pretty much limited to leeches, amputation, cauterizing, and prayer, maybe sick pilgrims did not require much acreage.

I learned much of this (though I subsequently verified it on Wikipedia...consider the source) from the hotel concierge. I would probably have appreciated it more if he had not told us this as he was walking us to our room. He thought that giving us the tour and history of the hotel was apparently more urgent than letting us get rid of 30lb. Packs, hiking boots, and 12 miles of accumulated walking filth. Had we realized we were getting the tour and lecture and not directions to our room, we might have told him how we felt about it. Imagine Ben Stein giving the lecture in Spanish as we walk all over the place, and you've got the mental picture just about right. This is after we've listened to him lecture on the highway bypass for 15 minutes in the hotel reception while we waited patiently, still wearing packs, just to get our room. Situationally aware much?

I am really enjoying the new plan and schedule. It's nice to be done with the day's walking by lunchtime, and being able to rest and relax the rest of the time. Mom is hanging in there pretty well, Dad is just hanging. He seems to have developed tendinitis in his left leg, and is still battling blisters. We will see now he holds up.

We are two days out of Burgos, and I was happy to see that there is a bullfighting festival going on there right now. I am hopeful that we can catch a bullfight when we arrive on Thursday. They have some good fighters lined up.

The singing continues. I challenged my folks today to see if they could get through once church hymn, any church hymn, singing all the verses and all the right words. They finally got it right on "Just As I Am". I think Mom and Dad must be in a nostalgic mood, as they spend a lot of time talking about relatives who have passed on, and what it was like growing up. For my part, I'm trying to focus forward. I read somewhere that if a pilgrimage is about becoming someone different, in order to embrace the new, you have to give up the old. I don't have the slightest idea what that means practically speaking; it sounds nice and all. Nonetheless, that's what I'm trying to do.

Quote of the day, heard on the Camino (the source will remain nameless, to protect the guilty): "You know you're getting old when a night's sleep uninterrupted and a bowel movement make for a good day."

Monday, June 27, 2011

Yogurt Is Not Dessert

I love yogurt as much as the next person. In fact, I'm probably above average in the yogurt affinity index. I eat at least one container a day for snack at work. But it doesn't matter how much honey or sugar or whatever you put with it, yogurt is not dessert. This is germane because I have been offered dessert for nearly every single meal since my arrival in Spain. I want Natillas, or Creme Brûlée, or something Chocolate will do in a pinch, but not yogurt. Even fruit is acceptable; I'd prefer it to be a melon of some kind. But not yogurt.

Today has been wonderful. Breakfast was included in our hotel last night, but when the lady running the Bar found out that we were leaving before they served breakfast, she offered to have us food ready to go when we checked out at 5:45 in the morning. Sure enough, when we got downstairs this morning, three big bags of food were waiting on us. What a wonderful, kind thing for her to do, so I fired off an email to the Parador corporate office letting them know that she was amazing.

Getting back into the groove of walking proved a bit difficult, but we eventually found our rhythm. I will say that it is hard to get up and moving in the morning without coffee, so when we rolled into the first town along the way with a bar open, we unceremoniously plopped ourselves down and ordered coffee.

The next few miles fairly flew by, because we fell in with a couple about my age from Castellon, near Valencia, named Roberto and Sofia. We chatted with them all the way to our destination, exchanging stories, and talking about why we were on the Camino. They are studying English (albeit British English), so we helped them practice a bit.

Here's a little taste of why English is so difficult a language to learn as a second language. Read out loud the sentence below in your normal talking voice:

I must heal my heel so I can walk up the hill.

No big deal right? Except that those three homonyms are killer when you are having a conversation with someone as a non-native speaker and are trying to understand what they are saying. Here's why. Let me translate the sentence into Spanish. The English homonyms are capitalized:

Tengo que CURAR mi TALON para poder subir LA COLINA.

They are, of course, completely different words, as they are in English, but when you hear someone say them, you don't know if the word you are hearing is "CURAR", "TALON", or "LA COLINA." As native speakers, we can of course use context pretty easily, but let me tell you, there are tons of contextual cues that come from culture, upbringing, education, locality that get read into verbal language. And even if you know the language, it takes a VERY long time to become "contextually fluent".

OK, I'll get off my soapbox.

We have left the wine region of La Rioja and moved into the old kingdom of Castilla-Leon. We are staying in the sticks tonight. I don't even have a cellphone signal, and I was prepared to walk the mile into the real town to post this entry until our hostess informed me there was Wifi. Thank you, Lord. Our hostess, Ana, is from Madrid. She and her daughter, also Ana (like that's not going to get confusing) bought this old country house five years ago, and have been running it as a Casa Rural for about four years. The house is beautiful, with the original exposed beams and thick stone walls. It's about 100 degrees outside at the moment, we're getting on toward the hottest part of the day, but it can't be more than 72 in the house - no air conditioning. It is very cool still at night, much like California, and this is sufficient to cool the house for the next day.

I've already mentioned the yogurt I was offered for dessert (I ended up with grapes instead). For lunch, we all shared a wonderful salad with chickpeas, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, walnuts, and raisins over cabbage, carrots, and lettuce, and had a local dish for our main course: Patatas de la Importancia - Important Potatoes. I'm not clear what made them important, but they were tasty, being lightly battered and fried (in accordance with Brian's Rules for Food #3: Fried is better) and served with bay shrimp sautéed in some kind of saffron sauce. Oh, and bread and local wine of course. We have been promised steak for dinner.

Since I've mentioned Brian's Rules For Food #2 in a previous post and #3 in this, I'll fill you in on the others, in order of importance.

1) No food or drinks are allowed in any of my moving vehicles. Not even water. Certainly nothing with sugar or bright colors.

4) Bacon makes everything better, because it is both pork and fried. If you can add gravy to it, you have the perfect food.

5) Vegetables are what dinner eats for dinner. They are acceptable as a first course, side, or snack, but vegetables are not a "meal".

6) Turkey is not a substitute for hamburger, tofu doesn't taste "just like" anything, except tofu. Call food what it is, I don't care what it's pretending to be, because I will invariably be disappointed in the impersonation.

The three of us were in agreement that our feet hurt more than we thought they would after a day of rest. Dad has developed a new blister, and if he is not improving by the time we get to Burgos on Thursday, another trip to the clinic will be in order. We cannot afford, with his diabetes, for the blisters to go South.

I had to tighten my belt a notch today. I could tell that I had been losing weight, mostly in my arms and legs, but I'm apparently losing a bit in my midsection as well, though not as much as I want, of course

We have been more contemplative the last few days. Having to regroup on the Camino has brought into focus priorities, and what is really important. Again, at this point, my musings are mostly subconscious, but I am nonetheless grateful for the opportunity to muse in a beautiful setting and amidst wonderful experiences.

I'm sitting on the patio as I type this, it looks like we may have a thunderstorm rolling in, so I believe I will wrap up here and and enjoy the storm. Attached are some pictures of today's walk.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

What a Difference a Day Makes

We are in much better spirits today, though Dad did just get through telling me he was "a little emotional." By my reckoning, Dad's been a little emotional since the Nixon administration. Nonetheless, a day off the Camino is exactly what we needed. We have relaxed, we have slept, we have eaten (of course!), I have drooled over the new BMW M5, and we have regrouped.

I called over to my folks' room at 7:30 this morning to see what time they wanted to get breakfast. The last thing on my mind was waking them, because both my parents' idea of sleeping in is about 6am. They were both still asleep apparently, which I completely understand. This was the first night in probably a couple of years in which I've slept the whole night uninterrupted. We went down to the Parador buffet, which was even better than usual (those of you who have stayed in Paradores know what I mean), and yes, there was even bacon.

After breakfast, we napped for a bit and then coordinated on the plan going forward. We've decided that we need to be done walking by 2pm at the latest, every day, so Mom recalculated how much ground we could cover given the speed at which we walk, and the time limitation. We have "hard stops" here and there based on our reservations at the Paradores. So, we will walk not more than 12 miles a day, then get on the train to make up the difference at our hard stops. This means that when we leave here, we'll walk to Burgos, and then take the train to Sahagun. We'll walk from Sahagun to Leon, spend an extra day in Leon, (and celebrate my birthday) then take the train to Astorga. We'll poke around Astorga, and from that point, I believe are days are short enough that we'll be able to walk the rest of the way to Santiago. Of the 500 miles of official Camino, we will forego about 100 miles of it.

I think we're all really happy with this arrangement. It will keep us from walking in the hottest part of the day (it was 100+ again today), we will still get to complete the Camino, but we will have more time to rest and actually enjoy sightseeing, and other things besides walking.

We went our to grab lunch this afternoon, and there was some sort of Corpus Christi procession through town. It was quite an event. After lunch, Dad went back to the hotel to sleep some more, and Mom I explored the town - pictures attached.

We're going to head out again in a while for a light dinner, then it's to bed early to get an early start. On the road again in the morning!

Pictures - Ventosa to Santo Domingo de la Calzada

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Always have a Plan B

Is there a Norse God of snoring?  Perhaps Thör had an evil twin, Snör?  If so, he manifested himself in the form of the German guy who reminded me of Bryan Scott in our shared room at the albergue last night.  None of us slept very well, at all, mostly because of Snör, but also because of the mother of one of our roommates who felt the need to call at 3 am.

Today was an 19-miler, and again we moved slow.  Dad's feet do not seem to be healing.  I'm sure that walking all day has nothing to do with that.  The country is so beautiful, we all found ourselves wishing we could concentrate less on walking and more on enjoying God's creation and on introspection, but time and weather have proven to be our enemies.

One long stretch today was nearly 6 miles between towns with little shade, and uphill.  We were so worn out by the time we got to town we rested in a bar for an hour before doing the final four miles to the medieval town of Santo Domingo de la Calzada (Saint Sunday of the Shoes, as I jokingly translate it)
and the Parador where we are tonight.  Our only consolation is that two young guys from Mexico who were walking the same stage were in the same bar for just as long as us, looking just as worn out.

It hit nearly 100 today, and it is difficult to walk any kind of distance in that kind of heat with no shade, much less uphill.  Dad had a bit of heat exhaustion, so we limped the last mile in to town - literally.

We are exhausted.  Rather than drag ourselves out of bed way too early on the morning and hot the road again, we are going to lay over for a day, rest, and regroup.  Dad summed it up nicely: "I love everything about this trip, but I'm not enjoying it anymore."

We had a long discussion tonight about needing to keep to our schedule vs. How important it is to take things in stride and enjoy the journey.  Since our only fixed commitments are the reservations at Paradores, of which there are three left, we may adjust the schedule some and keep walking, we may walk as much as we are able to avoid the heat of the day and "make up the difference with other modes of transportation or we may figure something else out.  At this point, we know it would be foolish to try and click off another 15 miles in our current state.  None of us are willing to fight heat stroke to say we walked all of the Camino in 32 days

This sounds more doom and gloom than it is.  I view this as all part of the adventure, and would not trade the experience for anything.  Today on out long break, Mom and Dad got to talking about their parents and their quirks and how they were embarrassed by them when they were growing up.  Mom told us, in tears, about how she hated how her Dad dressed like a farmer, and was always taking out his dentures, but if she could have just one more day with him, he could do anything he wanted.  I wouldn't trade that conversation for all the stamps in my Pilgrim Passport, or anything else, for that matter.

Going back to our rooms tonight from the restaurant in the hotel (which is fabulous, pictures tomorrow, I promise), Mom asked if I was going to take the stairs up.  I said I might, and she her knees didn't seem to be bending very well. Nay that moment we both proceeded to trip/fall down the two little steps that led to the elevator.  We were both laughing so hysterically Dad came out of his room to see what had happened.  I'll be sure to keep you posted on Plan B.  in the meantime, since God rested on Sunday, I guess we will too.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Rolling With the Punches

I did not get bacon for breakfast this morning. Nonetheless, the hotel breakfast was worth waiting till 7am for, and the extra hour of sleep was nice too.

Many things in life, I've decided, are about perseverance. Getting my CPA license was one of those things. My academic-type friends tell me a PhD is the same. I'm beginning to realize that most things worth having in life are like that. So is the Camino de Santiago.

Today was the second of three days over 18 miles each. If we can make it to Santo Domingo de la Calzada tomorrow, we get to stay in a Parador, and then we have a few days of no more than 14 miles. I'm hopeful those days will give us a chance to rest more and rebuild after what has proven to be a fairly grueling first week.

Dad's blisters were still quite painful, so we intentionally set a significantly slower pace today. In Logroño, after six miles, we took stock at our morning break. Dad said he thought he could keep going, so we did not have to leave him in a hotel to catch up with us at some later point.

Logroño is beautiful, with a fantastic 10th century bridge crossing the Ebro River (picture attached), though we found it quite humorous that the route into town takes you by the public crematorium, which ominously had it's furnace going this morning. Just generally unsettling you know?

Leaving Logroño, you walk through city parks and a nature preserve for about four miles, so we took another rest break about midday there to rest our feet and four Dad to doctor his feet. We discovered that even his blister had a blister, so once we got that taken care of, he felt much better, and we picked up the pace a bit, even though the next stretch was a climb. Frankly, I think that much of Dad's blister trouble stemmed from the fact that he had been changing socks, insoles and shoes at every break, trying to find the combination that would be comfortable. I'm not sure anything is going to be comfortable to walk in for 18 miles. So, I've started referring to Dad as "Imelda Marcos."

The afternoon climb, through vineyards, took us to rather an amazing sight. This stretch of Camino itself is not very pretty - you walk along an access road of a main highway bounded by chain link fence. Over the years, though, fellow pilgrims have taken whatever they can find and made crosses and placed them in the chain link. There are literally thousands of crosses (Crosses?) of all shapes, sizes, and materials. We walked along the fence full of them for nearly 15 minutes.

By this time it was getting hot, so we stopped in the town of Navarette to have a bite to eat from our supplies, rest our feet, and continue on. The last five miles to Ventosa in the heat with little shade, though pretty while walking through vineyards and not so pretty when walking next to the interstate, were brutal.

I used to think the coolest thing about the Spanish countryside was that you can almost always see Spanish towns a long way off because of the lay of the land and how towns are built. That was when I traveled Spain by car. On foot it's awful, because you see the town you are staying in at night and think, "Oh, it's not that far off." so you walk another 15 minutes, look up, and you would swear the town hasn't moved.

Even worse, sometimes you will see a town, and you can't wait to get there, because that's your rest break, then you get behind a hill or the road twists and you walk for a while and you know how far it was to the town and it seems like you ought to be there by now but...no town. Pretty soon you've degenerated to " Where is that $&@*^% town". I know that kilometers are only 0.6 miles, but sometimes, I swear it's the other way around.

On the other hand, I have never been more genuinely thankful for shade in my life. The Camino does tend to make you appreciate seemingly mundane things. Like hot water. Or a mirror. We finally got to Ventosa this evening, found the albergue (which is REALLY nice, and the host is amazing), and were then informed that there was no private room for us. So, we are in a room with three girls from Mexico and a young man from Germany, who for some reason kind of reminds me of Bryan Scott. The facilities are very nice, but it's kind of like being at camp. Common bathroom, shower stalls, bunk beds. The upshot is that it only cost us EUR 8.5 each, including free Wifi.

So I went to get cleaned up after my walk today, and of course I picked the one shower stall with someone in it. Honestly people, lock the door. It's not rocket science. So I went to shave at the sink. No hot water in the sinks. Only in the shower. No mirror for shaving in the shower. So I shaved cold. I don't trust myself without a mirror.

When you are walking through the heat for 18 miles, you'll do anything to let your mind wander, so I started thinking about life, and what if anything I would do different. Once I got past the obligatory "I wish I had these cars..." conversation, I began to do some serious pondering. I didn't reach any conclusions...yet. I am still cogitating. But I did decide that in everything, I should generally be quite thankful, and content, without becoming too self-assured, self-absorbed (yes, I know I'm an only child) or complacent.

Finally, it turns out that Mom and Dad don't know the words to any songs apparently, and they managed to violate flagrantly all three rules of singing on the Camino. I realized that my earbuds for my iPod are at the bottom of my backpack. Sigh. I've also discovered that when you walk 18 miles in the heat, everything either becomes really annoying or really funny. Dad's singing, loudly, was the former (I was already walking 100 yards ahead). Mom asking me to hand her a bottle of water, then asking me to hand her a different, identical bottle of water because for some unknown reason she didn't like the first one, was the latter. I think if we hadn't laughed, we would have cried.

P.S. I would be remiss if I didn't thank everyone for the comments and encouragement. It's great to know that you all are following along and keeping us in your thoughts and prayers. I have not responded individually simply because by the time I post this I am usually so exhausted it's the last thing I do before sleep.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

How the Spanish Are Like My Students

If anyone ever tries to tell you that Spain is generally flat, you have my permission to kick them someplace excruciatingly painful. I have discovered that nothing is generally flat when you are traveling on foot.

We did 19.1 miles today. I include the .1 because that's a lot when it's at the end of the day, uphill, carrying a 30lb. pack. All in all I feel pretty good, my knees seem to have settled down, and my feet are tired, but not agonizingly so. The biggest thing I've noticed is that after a few miles your feet actually get hot, and it's quite beneficial to stop and take your shoes and socks off and let your feet air out.

The hike up to the castle was worth the trip. I'll talk about that more in a separate post. We had a kitchen, dining room, and den at our disposal in the Casa Rural last night, so we went down to the bar and bout sandwiches (well, bocadillos, which are usually some kind of meat on a hard Spanish roll) for dinner. We were the only people in the bar, which even the bartender admitted was strange. I told him all the pilgrims were eating in the albergue next door. He had to question me on this extensively. This is one thing I've noticed about the Spanish: they talk more than their American counterparts. If they are talking to you, they have to explain something three or four times, even if you indicate you understood it the first. If you are telling them something, they are going to confirm it three or four times. It's a lot like trying to explain something to my classes:

Me: "The test is all multiple choice, with a cheat sheet, on Friday."

Student who asks you to repeat everything even though they heard you perfectly: "When is the test?"

Me: "Friday."

Student who must write everything on the syllabus they never refer to: "Wait, I didn't have a pen ready, you said it's all multiple choice?"

Me: "Yes."

Student who tries to act like they're not on Facebook during class and only hears certain key phrases: "Can we use a cheat sheet on this test?"

Me: "Not anymore."

You get the idea. That's what a conversation with a Spaniard is like.

Me: "They're all eating dinner at the albergue."

Bartender: "They're all eating at the albergue?"

Me: "Yes."

Bartender: "Dinner?"

Me: "Yes."

Bartender: "At the albergue?"

Me: "Yes."

Bartender: "All of them?"

Me: "Am I going to get my sandwiches before the second coming of Christ?"

Thankfully, we all slept well for a change and were on the road after a good breakfast. The weather cooperated, in fact it was almost cold, and we clicked off nearly eight miles by 8:30 when we stopped for a cup of coffee and to rest our feet for a bit at a pastry shop, of course. That section of the Camino was primarily wheat fields and grape arbors and rolling hills with a good path.

We had another five miles of that kind of terrain, then the land changed as we began to descend out of Navarra and the foothills of the Pyrenees in the valley of the Ebro River and La Rioja. The trail here was much more up and down, and Dad started having a lot of trouble with his blisters. We will see how he does tonight, and we may have to leave him in Logroño for a couple of days to recuperate. The walk to Viana was beautiful, again though vineyards and olive tree orchards with the whole river valley spread out below us. The weather was fine with a nice breeze.

We are staying tonight in a hotel in Viana in a renovated medieval palace situated at the top of the town, of course. Just once I'd like to stay in one place I don't have to climb up to at the end of the day. The hotel is across from the ruins of a 12th century church, so I will poke around there later.

I have now developed three Camino rules for singing:
1) If two people are going to sing as we walk, they must sing in one key.
1a) they must also sing in the same key.
2) songs must be sung in one language at a time
3) songs must be sung at the same tempo.

Basically, Mom and Dad have decdied that if they want to sing, they are going to drop back to where I can't hear them. Fine by me, because for two people who been C of C for as long as they have they sure don't know any of the words to all the old standards. This has led to us developing new lyrics to old songs. Most of the lyrics have come about related to some happening on the Camino. Here's a sampling:

To the tune of "No Tears in Heaven"
No bears, no bears up there
No bears, no bears any where
No bears in heaven will be found

To the tune "Heaven Came Down"
Santiago came down
And gloriously healed my soles

That last one was especially for Dad and his blisters. Speaking of Dad, it turns out, he's rather a disorganized traveler. I don't know how he manages it but when we stop someplace, half of his pack is scattered all over God's half acre in about five minutes. This is true at rest breaks, at the hotel, in a cafe, at the train station, wherever. I commented on this as we were packing up after lunch. Dad proceeded to inform us in his best holier-than-thou voice that the wonderful thing about the Camino de Santiago was that everyone did it in their own way.

The dutiful son and Generation X representative, I responded with a heartfelt "whatever".

Mom's response was much more subtle: "I know. That's why I haven't said anything about how disorganized some people are." Zing!

Tomorrow is another 18-miler, but the hotel has a breakfast buffet, so I am hoping we will start later, and I am also hoping for bacon.

Pictures- Cirauqui to Villamayor de Monjardín

Pictures - Zizur Mayor to Cirauqui