Conversations with my various body parts, fountains of wine, and "sacrifice"

We’re now six days in to our Camino, and very much looking forward to a rest day in Logrono.  I neglected to mention a bit of drama we had a couple of days back in Cizur Menor.  We had a pilgrim meal at the bar across the street from our hostal.  Dinner on the Camino is uncharacteristically early for Spain; usually around 7pm.  The group ate at several tables, and so my table returned to the hostal to watch the Germany-Ghana World Cup match.  A while later one of the students came in and said that the restaurant was claiming we didn’t pay for five of our meals, so I headed over to sorted things out with the help of another pilgrim, Carlos, who’s from Miami.  It turns out the restaurant didn’t actually know how many meals they’d served, so we theorize that they were just trying to take advantage of the students.  Once we showed up things got sorted out really quickly.  I wish I could tell you that things like this didn’t happen on the Camino, but where humans are involved, misunderstandings happen

I returned to the hostal hoping to catch the end of the match, only to have the hostal owner tell me that two of the group hadn’t paid for their bed yet.  This was in fact true, but it was because they had tried to track her down to pay and she was absent.  The hostal owner was rather snippy, and we had several weird issue with her earlier in the day, so on the whole, I was not impressed with this hostal, in spite of Mr. Brierly, who writes our Camino guide, who recommends the place.  I may have to send him an email; as it appears that the hostal owner is definitely biased toward older pilgrims, which is certainly her prerogative.

Two days ago our walk was over the Alto del Perdon, the point at which pilgrims have supposedly alked enough to do penance for their sins.  I’m not sure how true this is, but it was sure good to get to the top of the hill.  We stayed last night in the medieval town of Puente La Reina, known for its 1th century bridge, built by the Queen of Navarra so that pilgrims could cross the river without having to ford it.  I was very grateful for this bridge, but not especially grateful that our hostal last night was at the top of the hill across the bridge.  Nonetheless, it was a nice hostal, and I was able to relax and have several good conversations with the students. 

Yesterday was another short-ish 13 miles to the town of Estella.  We made good time, and so had trouble finding an albergue that was open.  Not wanting to wait an hour and a half for them to open we opted to stay in a pension, which I’ll admit has a pretty fantastic view, and is run by a very nice retired lady.  We met some other pilgrims for dinner, and had a bit of a convocation/group meeting with the students to assess where they are and encourage them.  This is the part where the walking stops being fun and the mental game is key.  If I can get them to the rest day on Thursday, things will reset, and it will get easier mentally.

Today, we moved at a slower pace; all of us are feeling the strain on our bodies.  Drake has had shinsplints and knee issues; my right knee and hamstring are carrying on a constant conversation with me, and several of the students are battling blisters and pulled tendons.  We’ve used up our supply of tape; so I’ll need to replenish that.

The highlight of the day was an early stop at the wine fountain.  One of the wineries on the route has been kind to pilgrims in that they have provided free wine via a spigot to pilgrims.  Needless to say, this was a big hit with our students, though I made clear that it was a cultural experience and I would not be pouring any students wine from the fountain.  There is also a webcam for people to watch; I’m not sure if any parents got to see their kids drinking from the fountain.

The terrain is gentler,but we were moving slower today, and it seemed like a long, but beautiful 13 miles in to Los Arcos through vineyards, olive groves, and wheat fields.  I will admit that Drake and I have had several good singalong sessions, mostly involving VeggieTales from back in the day, but two of our students, Liz, and Katie, were walking with us today, and so we had to oblige them with Michelle Branch and Vanessa Carlton renditions as well.  Beds are in somewhat short supply here in Los Arcos, so Drake and I gave up our beds for a privte room (such a sacrifice, I know!) so that a coupe of our straggling students could get a bed. We will get an early start tomorrow for the very long 18 miles into Logrono for a rest day and a hotel!

Over the River and Through the Woods

Well, it’s been an interesting couple of days on the Camino.  We are now just southwest of Pamplona in the town of Cizur Menor, out of the foothills of the Pyrenees, and are starting to settle in to a routine.  We try to be walking by 7am, and I tell the group about where we’re going to stop for the day, any major obstacles or things they need to watch out for, and off we go.   The way it usually shakes out is that the kids set off at a pretty good clip, but Drake and I and one of two students usually end up at the head of the pack over time.  We typically arrive at our destination by noon or one at the latest, and the groups of kids trickle in to town over the next couple of hours, with Tom, the other adult bringing up the rear.  He likes to stroll and experience Spanish culture to the fullest, shall we say.  Then, it’s shower and lunch, which is either Pilgrim meal, or grocery bought, a nap, and I try to spend some time with the students, checking on them, and grading and blogging.  Then, dinner, bed, and repeat as necessary.  It’s not a terrible routine.

Yesterday, we left Roncesvalles, and some of the students had to stop in the next town, Burgete, for some things they had forgotten or needed, then it was a challenging but shorter 13.5 miles over a couple of mountain ranges to Zubiri.  We arrived right at noon and settled in to the Albergue, which was right across the medieval bridge.  It was a nice hostel: rooms of 8, good shower, kitchen, and plenty of power points and wifi for 10 Euros.  Drake was having some allergy trouble, so we walked to the pharmacy (on the complete opposite end of town, of course) to get some medicine for him, and one of our other students, Hunter.  The pharmacist did not appreciate the fact that I was trying to help with the transaction by translating, and told me very pointedly that she could speak to the other people directly, thank you.  Hunter got some nasal spray, but Drake specifically wanted pills, so he told her that.  She dug up some pills, while I wondered why the pharmacist wouldn’t just give him the Claritin he asked for; it’s been widely available in Spain over-the-counter for years.  As Drake paid for the medicine (3 Euros!) the pharmacist says to him “Don’t take this if you drink alcohol.”  Now, not that Drake is overly fond of alcohol, but we’re in Spain, and Pilgrim Menus typically include wine as the beverage.  So, we left the pharmacy with a very grumpy Drake, who ended up leaving his medicine in the Albergue for the communal good.  We’re convinced the pharmacist did this on purpose because Drake was presumptuous enough to ask for a specific type of medicine, and I was presumptuous enough to translate.

Speaking of Drake, I can’t sing his praises enough; he’s great at connecting with the kids, he’s incredibly thoughtful and helpful, and he’s good hiking/dinner company.  Charles Hall and Jeff Hamilton, if you’re reading this, I’m deeply indebted to you for allowing him to come along.  Alex, I know you’ll be just as fantastic when we meet you in Burgos.

Today’s walk was longer – 16 miles – and flatter, which is like saying that Montana is flat compared to Colorado.  I asked everyone to meet at 7am again, and at 7:10 a student came running up to say that several students hadn’t been able to get a breakfast spot till the 7am serving and would be late.  This irritated me a bit, not because we were supposed to leave at 7; that’s an arbitrary time but because they knew they wouldn’t be on time when they reserved breakfast the night before and couldn’t be bothered to tell anyone.  So we set off, and Liz, the RA, offered to stay behind and wait on the latecomers.

It was an up-and-down, bit generally easier walk along a river and through several small medieval villages that took us in to Pamplona.  Drake’s knee is bothering him, but we still managed to clock off 14 miles until we took a rest break.  At that point we were in Pamplona, and crossed the river in to the Citadel of the old city.  It was starting to warm up, so we made our way through town and on Cizur Menor.  Our albergue here is also nice, but not as nice as last night; there’s more room to maneuver on the grounds, but the rooms are not quite as comfortable.  We did some grocery shopping for lunch and breakfast tomorrow, and Drake and a bunch of kids went to the pool while I have finally caught up on my grading.  We’ll go to our Pilgrim Dinner at 6:30 then sit in the bar and enjoy whatever soccer match is on.  Needless to say I am NOT happy about Spain’s performance in the World Cup, nor is anyone in the country, it seems.

The Old Man and The Mountain.

It was an uneventful evening in St. Jean, though unsurprisingly I found myself frustrated by a number of things that I can only describe with one word: French.  The service as the restaurant was terrible; I waited a half-hour just to get the bill.  The grocery store closed at 8. There would be no hotel staff to let us out at 7 in the morning (even the desk person admitted they do not like to work in France) so we would have to let ourselves out and leave the keys in a certain place, etc.  I love St. Jean, but everything seems to be unnecessarily difficult. I find myself wondering if this is some kind of cosmic conspiracy that only occurs when I cross the French Border.

As usual for the night before a big trip, I did not sleep well last night.  The idea was to get to bed by 10, since I needed to be up at 6 for us to be walking by 7.  Well, that didn’t happen.  I tried to go to bed at 11, but it’s barely dark at that time.  Plus my room had a nightlight over the bed that would not turn off, so I moved to the other side of the bed.  So it was some time past midnight when I finally nodded off.

 I was worried that I would have trouble getting the group together for an on-time departure, but everyone was pretty much on time, so I gave a few instructions about the walking and Liz, my RA read some scripture, while Drake my Assistant Director prayed for the group and our Camino.  We were on the Camino on time, and we could not have asked for better hiking weather.  The temperature peaked at about 65 with lots of sun, and just enough of a breeze to keep from getting too hot.  I was particularly grateful for this, as the last time I walked this stage of the Camino, I was 40 degrees, raining, and I was nearly hypothermic. 

As you might imagine, after the first hour of walking, the group was pretty well strung out over God’s half-acre.  Drake, Ben, and I ended up in the front, with the other adult, Tom, in the rearguard with a couple of the slower students.  Nonetheless, we made good time – St. Jean to Roncesvalles, 16 miles, in 6 hours flat, with a climb from 200 feet to 5,000 and a descent to 3,000 included.  We secured our beds in the albergue, and went to the bar to have a bit of lunch.  The rest of the group straggled in over the course of a couple of hours.

As far as I know, there were no mishaps, save for when I took a spill coming down the descent for the Col de Leopoeder to Roncesvalles, which is a 25% grade.  I stepped on a wet spot and slipped, skinning my knee and tumbling over.  Other than the skinned knee there seem to be no adverse effects, so I am thankful.  I also noticed I had a lot more trouble on the uphills than I thought I would.  Drake thinks this is the result of a week of riotous living in Madrid, getting over a sinus infection, and having a pack that seems heavier than expected.  I surmise that being only two weeks away from being 37 may play a factor, and I am rapidly coming to realize that while it’s a long time until I’m an old man, I’m no longer young, and that’s a bit of a weird thought.

Tonight we will go to Pilgrim Mass, and have a Pilgrim dinner, and then, to bed.  Tomorrow is 13.5 miles though still with lots of terrain.  I’m grateful we made it through the first day, though I don’t expect to sleep well tonight either.

Of bullfights, pinics, and a quick jaunt to France

Well, I’m sitting at the bus station in Pamplona; my students have commandeered all the available computer kiosks to work on class assignments.  Our bus for St. Jean leaves in about an hour.   We had a number of logistical things to deal with today n dim happy to say: so far so good.  Our train from Madrid left at 7:35 this morning, so last night I begged, pleaded, cajoled, threatened, and harangued the students into being downstairs and ready to leave the hotel at 6:30.  They almost succeeded and we were hopping on the Metro at 6:45. Then, another minor heart attack when I realized I had never confirmed that our train was leaving from Atocha rather than Chamartin, but we were safe there as well.  The train ride was swift and uneventful – so unlike my first Spanish train ride to Lisbon in 1988 – and we arrived in Pamplona on schedule.  After a walk of 1.5 miles we found the bus station (though as usual, it was neither where it was supposed to be, nor well-marked).  So, here we are, and if all continues to go well, we’ll be in St. Jean in a couple of more hours.  While I’m always sad to leave Madrid, I’m excited to get on the Camino.

The trip to the bull farm was a big success.  We rode around the farm and swathe different types of bulls, then two bullfighters gave us a lesson in bullfighting and then put on a demonstration/practice bullfight.  I’ve included some pictures here.  The kids seemed to enjoy it-even those who were fairly anti-bullfighting.  Then the owners of the ranch cooked a nice meal for us, and we headed back to Madrid. Unfortunately, the real bullfight was rather a disappointment, with indifferent bulls and very young fighters who seemed more interested in acting frustrated and put upon than actually doing their jobs.  Oh well. The kids seemed to enjoy it just the same.

Monday was a free day, which was a good thing, because I stayed up till 5 am watching the NBA Finals.  Since the kids were working on their Madrid itineraries, my Assistant Director, Drake, one of my students, Henry, and I packed a picnic and rode the cable car over into the old Royal Hunting Grounds and picnicked by the lake.  It was a great afternoon, filled with Iberico Ham, Chorizo, fresh cherries (which are in season right now), and other good foods. Then, we went to a Flamenco show that night.  I always appreciate the showmanship and skill, but Flamenco is not my favorite thing in the world.  Drake and I finished up our evening by having dinner with Javi at my favorite restaurant in Madrid: Casa Julian de Tolosa.  Two words: Giant Steaks.  ‘Nuff said.

Yesterday was our last day trip, to Avila and Segovia.  We had a couple of minor snafus: we could not find the bus in the morning because the Police had run him off.  The driver also relied a little too heavily on his GPS and exhibited the typical Spanish aversion to toll roads, which meant the normally hour long trip to Avila took nearly two. When we arrived in Avila, we realized that our tours had been reversed: Segovia in the morning, and Avila in the afternoon, so we frantically called the guides and got things sorted out.  After heading to Segovia, we lunched there, and our tour was impeded by 200 children in the Alcazar.  Apparently it was school group day.  But we made it home to Madrid, exhausted, about 8 o’clock.  By the end of the day, the kids were struggling; I think the late nights and World Cup matches (which run till 3am because of the time zone thingy), and I’ll admit, I was getting a bit frustrated, lest the guide interpret it as disrespect.  But, I tried to be calm, and patient, and objective, and not rip anyone a new one…

OK, time to board a bus.  I have a feeling the adventure is just beginning!  Buen Camino!

 

Good to be "Home"

Jet lag is a rather sneaky thing.  You would think that by now, I would know this.  But sometimes, knowing something, and behaving accordingly are two very, very different things. 

I’m happy to report that we arrived in Madrid on Thursday as scheduled.  The flight was direct from LAX to Madrid, and was relatively uneventful.  The Tom Bradley terminal is under construction, and that combined with the fact that most of the folks headed through there are not familiar with US airport security procedures under the best of circumstances, made for a bit of a trial getting everyone through security, as did inordinately bad traffic even for the 405.  I’ll admit I was more than a bit angsty about turning over the keys to my M5 to my very capable friend and intern, Derek, but based on the number of Instagram pictures I have seen of the car since, it appears to be in good hands.  I was in fact very grateful of the ride to the airport, and not having to take a shuttle, but I will miss driving for the next seven weeks.  All that to say, thanks, Derek.

Derek and my assistant Haeley are saving my bacon in another way, because, of course, I forgot a couple of things in the States that are not easily replaceable in Spain.  The US Postal Service, in their infinite wisdom, decided that my re-deliver notice for a Global SIM Card didn’t actually mean anything, so they returned it, and the company had to send out another, which of course did not arrive before I left.  Second, and perhaps more important, I left my contact lenses at home. I could probably wear the pair I have a second month, but I just don’t like risking it, and I also don’t think it would be very comfortable. So, thanks, Haeley and Derek.

We arrived in Madrid and my good friend Javi was there to meet us at the airport, and in relatively short order we were at the hotel getting everyone settled in.  I did a brief orientation to the program and the city, then walked the students down to the Puerta del Sol and Plaza Mayor then cut them loose to explore the city.  My Assistant Director, Drake (who has already proved himself invaluable), one of the students, Ben, and the other adult who is tagging along, a friend of the University named Tom Gehring, and I walked down to the Royal Palace, then over to one of my favorite water holes, Casa Mingo, for some roasted chicken, which made a very nice dinner.

Yesterday was a free day, so while the students worked on their itineraries for the course, Drake and I shopped for food, deodorant (which I also managed to leave in the States) and a thank you gift for Derek (yes, I know I’m probably ruining the surprise for him).  I also got us set up with Spin-based cellphones that will allow us to call each other free and the States for three cents a minute.

Lunch was typically Spanish: we met Javi at 1:30 and proceeded to do a tapas crawl, ending up at a well-known restaurant, Posada de la Vila, about 5 o’clock.  It was good to spend time with him.  Finally, we finished up watching the absolute debacle that was the Spain – Holland World Cup match.  I’m still bitter.

Today we did a half-day tour of Toledo, about an hour southwest of Madrid, and which has been continuously inhabited for 2500 years.  It was the capital of Visigothic and Muslim Spain, and is one of the only places where Jews, Moslems, and Christians coexisted peacefully in Spain.  We returned from Toledo about lunchtime and after a siesta during which I probably should have been grading papers, Drake and I made a quick run to the Prado and Reina Sofia museums so that I could see the three paintings I always like to visit: Las Meninas by Velazquez, El Fusilamiento del 2 de Mayo by Goya, and Guernica by Picasso. Then we strolled back through Retiro Park and after a quiet dinner, I’m enjoying the Italy/England Soccer match.

Tomorrow will be a fun, if busy day.  We are touring a ranch where bulls are raised and trained for bullfighting, then we’ll actually take a bullfighting lesson.  I have made it abundantly clear that I will NOT play the part of the bull by putting a pair of horns on my head.  Then we’ll head back to Madrid for the bullfight in the early evening.

I have loved being in Madrid, especially in Summer.  My anxieties about the group have subsided somewhat, at least until we have to worry about the Camino part, which is next week. The kids are fantastic, and seem to be enjoying themselves and a few have even figured out that I’m only have as boring and evil as I seem.  Attached are a few pictures from the trip so far.  I have had to remember that while I don’t need to take pictures for me, I need to take them for the group, for IP, and for the blog, so I’m trying to do a better job of that!

 

Of housework, Gummi Bears, and Catboxes

I've discovered that it's hard to motivate oneself to clean house, or do any sort of life upkeep/maintenance, really, when you know in the back of your mind that you're leaving for a long trip in 12 days.  In some ways, it's very Ecclesiastical: clean the cars?  You're not going to drive them, and they'll be dirty when you get back.  Put gas in them?  Certainly not, not at $70 a tank per car.  Clean the house?  Meh...  Yardwork?  Double-meh.  Everything is meaningless.

No, mostly I've been focused on the fact that there are 384 different little ducks that all need to be in a row before I get on the plane June 11.  In the last month, I've got the itinerary sorted out, all the travel arrangements made, received the Pilgrim Passports for the group, ordered and distributed tablets to the students that need them, and finished creating the course I'm supposed to teach.  Not to mention all the regular job responsibilities to go along with the 40-hour a week gig that keeps Dexter the cat in the lifestyle to which he's become accustomed.

Let me tell you, though, that course was a bear.  It's one thing to teach a course like Accounting, where you have a book, and most likely, a syllabus from another professor that you can borrow from.  Side note, kids: once you're out of college, this sort of borrowing is known as "not reinventing the wheel" as opposed to plagiarism.  But, this is my first time teaching a non-Accounting course, and in fact the course I'm teaching, Culture and History of the Camino de Santiago, hasn't been taught at Pepperdine, ever.  Guess who just became an intellectual property owner?  Yep, me.

Putting together the syllabus, course schedule and the grading scale was relatively easy.  The hard part was going back and building the assignments, the grading rubrics, and the course lectures.  What's important, what's not?  What's reasonable as far as expectations for learning?  And how do you measure that when, essentially, your classroom is a walking trail, and the journey is as much spiritual as physical?  Now, add to that the fact that I'm teaching this as a dual-listed course; in English for non-majors, in Spanish for majors.  Talk about a stretch.  I'm going to learn as much on this trip, if not more, than my students.

But, I got through that.  There have been some other hiccups.  My good friend Tanya, who was supposed to accompany me on the trip hurt her foot, and had to drop out at the last minute.  She was heartbroken, and I'll miss having her along, but it was the right decision.  We'll make do just fine, I hope.  We had some trouble finding a hotel in St. Jean, and when we did, it blew the budget a bit.  But, I am the Controller, so if I can't solve that problem, I need a new job I suppose.

Weekends are now being spent taking care of errands and picking up random little items I think I'll need for the trip.  I broke yet another one of my cardinal rules and went to Costco on a Saturday morning.  I bought four boxes of Gummi Bears.  If you followed Camino 1.0, you know that those things are life savers.  Where I will pack them is a whole 'nother issue, but one thing at a time.  I ordered a global SIM card for my cellphone from the UK, and the US Postal Service, in their infinite wisdom decided to send it somewhere else, even though I signed for delivery at my house.  Hopefully we can catch it and get it back before I leave.
The cats know I'm up to something, as there has been a marked increase in the time I spend on hairball patrol and litterbox duty.  I've got a couple of more bills to take care, lest I forget them when they come due while I'm gone.

Training has tapered; I will admit I'm leery of injuring myself, so I've dialed back to three days a week in the gym and walking the campus the other two days.  I may wish I had kept up the long hikes right up to departure, but I'm trying to play it safe in one sense.

So, nothing earth-shattering in this post; but this is how the final preparations go, yes?  I'm sure things will get more exciting as we get closer, and as we depart.  Thanks for tuning in.

Camino 2.0 - Here We Go Again

I’m going back.  Three summers after finishing my first Camino, I’m doing it again. But things are going to be a little different this time.  For one thing, I’m three years older.  Three years wiser?  Maybe not.  Second, I’m going to move a little slower this time around.  Instead of finishing the Camino in 32 days, the plan is to take 38, including rest days, and I’ll spend a week in Madrid on the front end of the trip.  The big difference is that I’ll have some different traveling companions this time around. Instead of walking the Camino with my parents, I’m leading a group of 18 Pepperdine students and two other adults.

In spite of my best efforts to the contrary, I have turned in to my father.

Here’s how this will theoretically go: On June 11 I’ll board a plane with 18 students and another staff member at Pepperdine.  Bout lunchtime the next day, we’ll arrive in Madrid for a week of museums, culture, good food, and history.  Then we’ll take the train north to France and walk to Santiago.  15 miles a day, more or less.  Another friend, from North Carolina, will join, to help me herd the crew along.  I’ll teach Spanish culture and history along the way, mostly in Spanish, which I’ll admit will be a bit of a challenge.  As if walking the Camino with 18 college students won’t.  We’ll walk in to Santiago, weary, tired, and hopefully elated on July 28.  Then we’ll fly home.

I watched my Dad run a program in Spain for years, and do so seemingly effortlessly.  I’m scared to death.  There are so many things to worry about: logistics, the course, what am I going to teach?  When am I going to brush up on my history and vocabulary?  I am, after all, working a day job, and while the University has been incredibly generous in letting me take time off, I have to keep things running, and prep in the meantime?  What happens if someone gets injured? What happens if I get injured?  Oh yeah, I have to train for this.  And so do the students. What about money?  What about luggage?  What if the students hate the experience?

What about God?  It is a pilgrimage. Shouldn’t I be focused on what God is going to do?  Or at least cognizant that he might have something to add to this adventure?  I have to leave room for that, in the midst of all the things that must be done.

And what about me?  Am I ready for this?  Mentally?  Spiritually?  Emotionally?  Physically?  Well, one in four is a start.  In the spirit of being open and honest with myself, my students, and apparently, the internet at large via this blog, this pilgrimage couldn’t have come at a better time.  I’ll tell you that I find myself in a weird place on my head.  Well, more so than normal.  In the interest of being succinct, I’ll sum it up this way: it’s as if, over the last few months, everything that is going on in my life seems to point to the question, “What now?” 

That’s an easy question, right? 

Recognizing that this means I’m in what I’ll call a bit of a rough patch, I’m doing what we all must do at different points in our lives:  getting through the day, finding solace in the routine and ordinary, and trying not to overthink too much.  If I can get to the Camino, then that will be the time to start assessing, and listening.  I’m not overly proud of the fact that’s where I am, but I also refuse to deny that things aren’t “just fine”.  Part of living, it seems to me, is embracing difficulties, being present, and being in the moment.  And if those difficulties are in my head, rather than externalities that are being forced on me, well, that doesn’t mean I can’t grow and learn.

So, like three years ago, this really will be a pilgrimage of faith for me.  While I must be present for the task of taking care of the students and instructing them, I yearn (though the word sounds overdramatic to this accountant brain of mine) to find out “What now?” and hope that the road to Santiago will also be a road to “what’s next.”  Thanks for being willing to walk that road with me.