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.