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

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.

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.

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