A Week on the Road, Already?

Well, apparently, I'm a terrible person, because I did not realize a week had passed since I had blogged.

We're now nearly 120 miles into our trek, and it's been a fun few days.  The kids have been doing great.  The weather has been mostly cooperative, though it has started getting warm in the afternoons, and just today, which was a longer day, I discovered that my left leg has a lovely sunburn on it.  As do the the thumb and first finger on my left hand from walking with poles.

Oh, also, everything hurts.  But you probably knew that.

Staying in a hotel in Pamplona was a fantastic idea.  We were just three days into the walk, but I think it gave the students a chance to kind of reset from the hostels and wash off the travel stains of the previous few days.

Pamplona has a lot of history to offer, but also a lot of nightlife and activity.  It was initially the capital of Basque Country and later the capital of the Kingdom of Navarra.  The kingdom was established by Charlemagne as a defensive perimeter against the Muslims, which invaded the Iberian Peninsula in 711 and pushed north to the Pyrenees.  Charlemagne established a frontier called the "Spanish March" and basically told the Duke of each area that they were on their own.  France would leave them alone as long as they defended the border against the evil infidels.

Turns out Basques are sneaky.  Whilst he was dealing with Charlemagne, the guy in charge of Pamplona, a lovely chap named Sancho Garces, was also making a similar deal with Muslim Caliph of Cordoba.  So, basically, he was double-dealing, which is awesome, until someone figures out you're double-dealing (not that I would know).  A few years go by, the Muslims to the south start getting a bit unruly, and Charlemagne decides he has to deal with the situation.  Charlemagne shows up in Pamplona and asks friend Sancho to let his army in.  Sancho politely declines, so logically, Charlemagne camps outside the walls, and tells Sancho he'll deal with him after he finishes opening a can on the Muslims.  I'd like to think that Sancho then flipped Charlemagne the bird, or the medieval equivalent, but I don't really know.

Sure enough, Charlemagne whupped the Moors, and returned to Pamplona.  By this point he was cranky enough and tired enough that he burned the entire city of Pamplona, then continued north back to France.  The Basques were so enraged that they attached his army in the Roncesvalles pass, and Charlemagne's main man, Roland, was killed.  For more details see, "The Song of Roland".

All of this happened around 811AD.  So, recent history.  Kinda like the Brexit.

Enough history.  Suffice to say Pamplona is an interesting town.  Then we had a few shorter days, and continued good weather into Logrono for our first rest day.  The slog into Logrono is a bit long, and I think we were all glad to have a rest day in a nice hotel.

I basically stayed off my feet the whole rest day, only venturing into town to eat and in search of ice cream.  Logrono is a cool town, given that it's the capital of La Rioja, which is wine country here in Spain, but I'll admit, I've been there and done that.  So I sent the kids off in search of Important Historical Facts, and I graded papers and generally caught up on what's going on in the world.

I must admit we've lost a couple of members of our crew and we've added a couple.  Callaghan caught a bus from Logrono to Andorra to check out the situation for his potential Fulbright Scholarship.  We'll miss him.  Paul leaves tomorrow to return back to the States.  It's been a blast to have him along, and I think he might like Spain a bit.  We'll pretend to miss him.  Kidding Paul.  We won't pretend.

We've also met a young man from Scotland who has just graduated from high school and hopes to start and University in the Fall.  His name is Ruaraidh (if you pronounce it 'Rory' you'll be close enough that he probably won't be irreparably offended).  He's blended well with our group, and we're glad to have him along.  Also, a Camino alum, Alex Yip, is back with us again, serving as EMT.  He's had foot trouble, and had to see the doctor today and take the bus.  Prayers on Alex's behalf are greatly appreciated.

Not much else to report, really.  We had a long 18 miles today; tomorrow is a shorter 12.  I may or may not have burned some Parador points to stay in the Parador in the town coming up rather than the large albergue.  Don't judge please!

Second verse, Same as the First

Today was an easier day.  The scheduled start time was 7am, and we had a shorter day; 13.6 miles, compared to nearly 16 yesterday, and with less terrain, although there was still lots of up and down.

It turns out that 7am was wishful thinking on multiple counts.  True to the albergue experience, there was a mass exodus of French and Italian middle-aged pilgrims, not quietly, at 5:30.  The lights came on at 6, our Hospitalera, an older dutch woman named Janine (who I think had a bit of a crush on one of the students, Houston "Goose" Wilson, "lights out is at 10, and if you are not quiet I vill visit you!") came through with an actual cowbell at 6:15 saying, "Gut morning".  I'm sorry, but if there's a cowbell involved, it's not a good morning.  At 6:30 the Gregorian chant started up, so we were all pretty much awake except for Callaghan, who either has really good earplugs, or could sleep through the Rapture.

Unlike my last time in the albergue in Roncesvalles, which was noisy and not restful to say the least.  This time around people were either more well behaved or I was more exhausted because I had no trouble sleeping like the dead all night.

We are not yet into our routine, so it took everyone a while to get ready, thus we left a bit after 7.  It was another beautiful day of walking, we stopped at a grocery store, stocked up and continued on our way.  Apparently, I am slow, as I spent bringing up the rear of the herd with Ty.  We got to chat with some cool people, Tim and his girlfriend (whose name I can't remember.  I blame Sangria.), who are remarkably normal sounding for Canadians, and Sara, who is French, and got mad at her parents, so she decided to walk the Camino.

This is the first night that the students have been "on their own" for lodging.  I cheated a bit, since I have a Spanish cellphone and called ahead to reserve an albergue that I had stayed in the last time.  I really don't like reserving ahead, because it seems against the spirit of the Camino, but at the same time, it sure does relieve the stress of finding a place.  I just really hate talking to Spaniards on the phone.  Actually, I hate talking to anyone on the phone.  I should probably get over that.

Nonetheless, the students did well, and nine of them are lodged in our albergue.  We are having a worship session at 8pm tonight, and a shorter day again tomorrow.  We are staying in Pamplona, and in the interest of not having students scattered all over God's half-acre in albergues, I have reserved a hotel.  I'm looking forward to a real bed and room, even though we've only been in an albergue for two nights.

The walking has been good.  I have not yet solved any of the worlds problems, or even my own but I have given some of them some thought.  I'd like to be a bit more connected to the kids, but it is still early in the trip, so hopefully that will happen as it may.  And finally, I present to you, "Mr. Europe 1965".

A Million Steps

The first thing you have to understand is that I'm a finance guy buy training and an accountant by trade.  This means that I generally view the world in economic and monetary terms.  Failing that, I do everything I can to quantify things.  So, of course I had to sit down in St. Jean last night and figure out, based on my stride that it's roughly a million steps to Santiago.  I'm happy to report that the first 30,000 or so are out of the way.

As I mentioned yesterday, we elected to leave early so that we could beat the heat today, and that proved to be a very wise decision.  Everyone was downstairs at the hotel and ready to walk out at 5:30...except Ty.  For some reason his sleep-deprived brain (according to him) had registered 6:30 for our departure, so we waited for him a bit and were on the road by 5:50am.  

You know, I've often commented that the stairs at Pepperdine don't get any easier no matter how many times you hike them.  The same is true of the St. Jean to Roncesvalles stage of the Camino.  It was just as difficult as I remember.  Fortunately, it was a beautiful, clear day.  Unfortunately, it was incredibly, unbelievably windy, which made it quite the struggle.  Compounding this on my part was the fact that I also managed to underestimate the amount of food I would need to get over the mountain.  Fortunately, I had my ample supply of gummy bears, and Paul and Anna (my RA) shared their snacks).

This stage of the Camino is a bit deceiving.  You leave St. Jean and have a nice walk through the countryside for the first two miles.  Then, about the time you think "hey, this isn't too bad".  BAM.  20% grade, and you're reminded explicitly exactly how out of shape you are.  Everybody did pretty well, but at one point we were presented with something I just call "typically European".  A very middle-aged man, not in great shape randomly appeared, walking with his wife.  In a speedo.  And a backpack.  Ew.  Just ew.  I suppose I wish that I had that much self-confidence about my body, but even I did, unless I looked like Cristiano Ronaldo, I don't think I would "gift" everyone else on the planet with that particular image.

After getting over my sudden desire to vomit due to "Mr. Europe 1965" we continued climbing.  And climbing.  And climbing.  As I said, the wind was pretty ferocious, but we had herds of sheep and goats and wild horses to entertain us.

The descent into Roncesvalles was its usual treacherous self, this time with a 25% downslope, but at least it was wooded and shady, as by this time it was getting quite hot.  We arrived in good time, around 12:30, and settled into the hostel.

Then I spent the afternoon drinking Sangria, sleeping, making sure the kids were settled in OK and tending to a couple of potential strains and sicknesses.  After pilgrim dinner at 7 and the Pilgrim Mass at 8, which is in the 15th century church next to our hostel, with a multi-language Pilgrim Blessing, it is time to go to sleep.  We have a shorter day tomorrow: 13.6 miles, and still lots of up and down, but without the epic climb and hopefully without the Mr. Europe 1965 sightings we had today.  I'd upload pictures of our walk today, but the internet here is too slow.  Perhaps tomorrow!

Hurricane Madrid

We are sitting in our hotel in St. Jean Pied-de-Port France, trying to stay cool and looking up at the mountains we'll have to cross tomorrow.  It's been a whirlwind of a (almost) week since we arrived in Madrid, and while none of us have been sleeping enough, I think we're all looking forward to the next phase of our adventure tomorrow.

We arrived in Madrid without incident, bags intact, and had a relatively easy transfer to the hotel.  One of my interns and friends, Colten Corey, is studying in London this summer, and he flew down for the weekeng, which was an awesome bonus.  The bus driver was incredibly apologetic that there was so much traffic - the Metro and train unions are striking, causing a 70% reduction in service.  They want more vacation days; 18 a year plus holidays is not enough, apparently.  At least they are nice enough to tell you how much of a reduction in service to expect on any given day, and of course they do not strike on the weekends, because then people would just be mad at them.

Our hotel was on the Plaza de Espana, an area I know well, so it was nice to be in the old neighborhood.  After impressing upon the students that it was imperative that they NOT sleep until after dinner, I ran out with Ty and Colten and Sebastian to get our cellphones set up and loaded.   I had been surprised at how cool it was in Madrid when we landed (about 70 degrees) and when we stepped out on the street - a thunderstorm.  Now, I own about eight umbrellas.  All of them are in California.  So, we got a little wet, and when we arrived at the phone place, they indicated they needed my passport, which was of course back in the hotel.  So, we got wet again, but eventually got the phones squared away,

Then, in order to keep the students moving and awake, I took them on a brief orientation/walking tour of Madrid, and then we had dinner at a restaurant across the street from the Plaza Mayor.  It was a nice first day. 

The next day was a "free day."  The students were scheduled to work on their itineraries, which are excursions around Madrid that I assign to them that are either history-based, culture-based, or nature-based.  My boss and friend, Paul Lasiter, was scheduled to arrive from the States at 9am, so I headed to the train station to meet him - and ran directly afoul of the aforementioned train strike.  Fortunately, the airport train was only delayed 8 minutes, so I arrived at the airport in plenty of time to collect Paul.  We then returned to the hotel, got Paul settled in, and then went to lunch at one of my favorite places to eat - Casa Mingo.  Here's the best way I know to describe Casa Mingo: think Costco rotisserie chicken, but the chicken is marinated in hard apple cider, and served with more cider.  It's a great and reasonable meal.  After lunch, Ty went back to his museum-ing, Colten did some studying, and I again played tour guide for Paul.  

That evening we went to a flamenco show, which everyone seemed to enjoy.  I myself am not a huge fan of flamenco, but it is impressive to watch.  I also like watching all the middle-aged women get hot and bothered when Tall, Dark, and Handsome Male Flamenco Dancer in Tight Pants gets up to do his thing.  Cellphone cameras everywhere!

Saturday found us on the bus at 9am headed to Toledo for a guided tour.  This is where having a recollection of something can sometimes create issues for you.  For years, and I mean years, groups always meet their guides at the Puerta de Bisagra, one of the old medieval gates to the city.  We arrived at Bisagra, and no guide.  So we drive around a bit and even the driver is confused.  We get out and walk around looking for the guide, as my notes said to meet him at the mechanical stairs (escalators).

Now, I know what you're thinking: "They have escalators in Toledo?"  Yep.  I'm kind of amazed too.  Here's the deal.  Toledo, which is a town of 90,000 people, and which has a population in the walled old city of 6,000 now has to handle 4.5 million tourists a year.  That's a lot.  All those buses trundling around the tiny streets of the old city is problematic, but like most cities in Spain, Toledo is built on a giant hill, so making tourists climb up and down into the city is equally problematic.  The solution?  Giant banks of escalators that conveniently take you up and down into and out of the city.  I'm a bit horrified by this, but this is "progress."  

Aaanyway, no guide at the escalator.  So I call the company and they get in touch with the guide, who calls and assures me he's at the escalators.  The OTHER escalators, that are new.  The escalators I didn't know about.  Problem solved.  He was a great guide, the students enjoyed Toledo, and we happened upon a random crowd in the square outside the cathedral, with full on microphones and yelling and clapping.  I distinctly thought "oh great, another strike or protest, or something annoying socialist."  Nope.  Just the Official Guiness Book of World's Records Largest Plate of Ham in the square.  No big deal.

Spain is famous for it's cured ham, which depending on the type of pig and how it's cured, can take up to 8 years to produce, and can cost up to $200 a pound.  But boy, does it melt in your mouth.

We survived the ham-fest and returned to Madrid.  For dinner I took Ty, Paul, and Colten to my favorite steak restaurant in Madrid, Casa Julian de Tolosa.  It was an amazing meal.

And ironically, Sunday found us on a bus to a bull ranch north of Madrid.  The students saw how the bulls are raised and had a bullfighting lesson from a real, live (semi-retired) bullfighter, and then lunch.  That evening we went to a bullfight, and I must say, it was a hard one.  The fighters were not good, and were trying to show off, and so accordingly, two of them ended up in the hospital, and dry-cleaners of bullfighting suits in Madrid will probably stay employed for quite a long time yet, I think.

Yesterday was supposed to be another free/catch-up day with an optional trip to Segovia in the morning, but as it turns out, all of the students wanted to see Segovia, so I arranged for a bus to take us, and I did the tour.  The Roman Aqueduct still impresses me after all these years.  Segovia is one of my favorite places, and I think the students would agree.  Yesterday afternoon we met Javi for lunch, which turned into a 5 hour lunch, then we had to turn right back around and have our final closing group dinner for Madrid.

We were up early this morning, and on the train to Pamplona, then a hike and a bus and here we are!

It is inordinately hot, and the high tomorrow is about 95, so we are going to roll out extra early - at 5:30 to try and beat most of the heat.  I think the kids are excited and a bit nervous, which is expected.

Speaking of the kids.  This is an awesome group.  We're still in the honeymoon phase, but I am impressed with how optimistic, respectful and excited they are, and how well they seem to be bonding with each other, and yes, even us old folks.  We'll see if that holds.

As usual, I always have something in France be unnecessarily difficult.  This time it was the hotel.  It was closed when we showed up.  Uh...now what?  It turns out that the owner usually takes Tuesday afternoons off, but showed up shortly thereafter to let us in and give us our rooms.  Stuff like that really bothers me, just like the tour guide mess-up in Toledo.  Paul and I also had a little incident in Madrid where we stopped in for a cup of coffee, and paid the bill (4 Euro) with a 50 Euro bill, but the bartender only returned 16 Euros of change saying we had only paid with a twenty.  Obviously we disagreed vociferously, but courteously and professionally, and even though it took two managers counting the register twice, showing our ATM receipt and wallets, and me trying not to blow an O-ring in a foreign language, they gave us our change.  We think that the bartender slipped the bill into their apron, and we also think maybe the manager knew something was up because he ultimately told them to give us our change and apologized.

I REALLY hate stuff like that.  I think it's because I love Spain and want everyone to have a good experience, and hate that it was one of Paul's first impressions of a place I've grown to love.  At some level, I suppose I recognize that people are individuals, and one misunderstanding doesn't speak for an entire country.  Except in France, of course.

At any rate, all is well, and we are here, and looking forward to being on the road.  I'm anxious to see how everyone does tomorrow and how they feel about it.  Group meeting at 7:30 tonight, then hopefully off to an early bed!

 

Twas the Night Before Departure

It is time to go.  My pack is packed, bubble-wrapped sufficiently (I think) and leaning up against the bed.  My Madrid back is packed, open for last-minute items in the morning, and looking like it will not want to zip shut.  I've done the laundry, emptied the trash, put the cars to bed, left a note for my renters, and think things are in decent shape for departure at home.

My office, which is moving the week I get back, is mostly packed, my email inbox is down to nine items.  Board meetings are done, tax returns are filed, I've handed off most of the projects, and hopefully I'll be missed at work.

My students have submitted their initial assignments, except for a few who are learning the hard way that you have to pay attention to the time of day the system cuts you off from submitting assignments, and not just the day itself.

I think I am as ready as I can be.  I will need to be up at 5am to leave for the airport at 5:30 to be there four hours before departure.  Turns out that traveling with a group requires more time than just swooping through the airport by yourself.  Go figure.

How do I feel?  Tired.  It's been a long year getting ready for this, and especially the last few months at work.  But at the same time, that's gratifying.  I have an awesome group of colleagues, and we've accomplished a lot this year, and so I feel good about stepping away to take part in this journey.  I'm grateful to my coworkers for allowing me this experience.

Yes, I'm anxious.  I probably won't sleep well tonight, and when I do, it's likely to involve unpleasant Camino dreams.  I'm an overthinker, so I'm worried about logistics, I'm worried about the kids, I'm worried about the luggage.  Oh, yes, and the walking 15 miles a day for 38 days.  I know I can do it, but it's still a task not to be taken lightly.

I think this is why I "need" the Camino.  All in one fell swoop, it's a respite, a physical challenge, a thrilling adventure, and it pushes me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Finally, and I think most importantly, I'm excited.  Excited to go back to Spain, even though this will be my 45th time in that country.  Excited to see my friends in Madrid.  Excited to walk familiar paths, but to see them differently.  Excited to watch the students as they experience the Camino.  Excited, because I want to be excited.  I hope that through my writing, some of you will be equally excited and maybe someday get to experience the Camino firsthand, if you haven't already.

So, it's off to shower, fold the last of the laundry so I don't come home to dirty clothes (the house is a disaster, though.  Oh well), and then to read a bit before trying to sleep. Then the big hurry up and wait that is modern air travel.  See you on the flipside!

Almost Time to Go

We are getting down to the wire.  In a little less than 72 hours I'll be on a plane to Spain.  The bag has been test-packed and then re-packed.  My Madrid bag is also packed and ready to go.  Now it's simply a matter of the 67 other things I need to do that I can't think of right now, but will hopefully remember some time in the next couple of days.

Getting ready for the trip itself hasn't felt like a whirlwind, but there have been enough other things going on that I've felt overburdened.  This afternoon was the first time in a long time I simply sat down and did nothing for a bit.  As usual, there are a couple of Board meetings between me and the Camino, but one way or another, this is the home stretch.

This afternoon as I was packing, one of my Camino alums, Hunter, from the 2014 group came by to chat and for emotional packing support.  Almost right away Hunter asked me, "So what are you hoping to get out of this Camino?"  I have been wondering that myself, though I'll admit I haven't spent a lot of time thinking about it.  My first thought is that first and foremost, I want the students to have a good experience.  Of course, I may define that differently than them, but since I'm the one actually in charge, we'll roll with that assumption.  Beyond that?  There are a ton of questions and decisions I'd like to be pondering over the next seven weeks, but none of them are really important.  If it doesn't happen, it won't be the end of the world.

So what do I want out of this trip?  It seems like I should have some great cosmic life-changing quest, but I don't.  This is my third time through, so I'm going to take the same approach I've taken in the past, and simply try to be present and listen.  I haven't been disappointed yet, so I have faith that I won't this time either.  As always, I'm fairly certain that this little walk will give me perspective, lots of new friends, and new experiences.  And that's enough.