A Really Nice Birthday

Today was a great day to have a birthday. Since we didn't have to walk, we "slept in" (I was up at 7) and rolled down to breakfast about 8:30. Note to self, there was bacon for breakfast, but I'm going to have to teach the Spanish how to do bacon properly. And biscuits, and gravy, and grits, just for good measure.

My folks and I went in together on my birthday present, and we bought me a new watch...which wasn't working, so we had to take it back. Of course, the watch shop needed us to leave it for a while which necessitated another two-mile round trip to the store (on foot of course) in the afternoon. At least the walk was along the beautiful river. The city has done a fantastic job of honoring their history through architecture while designing equally stunning contemporary buildings and open spaces. I could live in León.

Dad's left ankle was about twice the size of his right one this morning, so he wanted to go back to the doctor. Score another one for the Spanish medical system: we walked in to the urgent care, they sent us up immediately to the doctor, who looked at Dad wrote a prescription, and told him that he was done walking the Camino. No charge, and we were out in 15 minutes. Needless to say, we're all very bummed about Dad not being able to walk, but he's going to meet us, either via train, or bus, or car where we stop every night. The doctor told him that he can walk around whatever town we're in a little bit, but no distance for as much as 15 days.

This afternoon, the hotel surprised me by bringing a bottle of champagne to my room. I can only assume it was because of my birthday, and Mom and Dad and I sat on my balcony overlooking the river while we enjoyed the treat. Then we went down to our three-course lunch, and by the time we got through that, a retreat to the room to vegetate was in order.

The cool thing about Spain is that it stays light very late. It is nearly 10:30 at night and the sun has just set. This means you can go out do stuff that requires daylight quite late in the day, so after I picked up my watch, we walked over the old part of León to see the sights. It turns out the old city walls are Roman, and still there, the Cathedral is Gothic, and impressive, and the Bishop's Palace looks like it belongs in Bavaria. Pictures attached. For my part, I find the Roman stuff the most fascinating.

It's been a good day, but it's close to time to go to bed. For a non-walking day, I still managed to do about seven miles...in flip-flops. Probably not ideal, but at least my ankles are still their normal size. So far. Tomorrow we catch the train to Ponferrada where we are supposedly staying in a hotel near the Templar Castle.

"Nothing of Interest Happened Today"

When you're in another country, the Fourth of July, like Thanksgiving, Veterans Day, Memorial Day, and Mother's and Father's Day is weird. Those days aren't holidays in Spain. If that seems dreadfully un-American, you'd be right. We're not in Kansas any more.

I can remember, growing up, we spent a lot of Fourth of Julys in Madrid because of Dad's work directing the University's summer program in Madrid. A restaurant nearby fed us for meals - "The Drach" was the name of the restaurant, and we got to be very good friends with the owner and staff over the years. One year, we asked if they would serve hot digs and hamburgers in honor of the holiday. You probably have a pretty good idea of what we expected...which was not exactly what we got. Meals in Spain are a big deal, usually three courses at least, and generally take a couple or three hours, if done right. Needless to say, we were initially quite surprised when, on the 4th, our friends at the Drach brought out a first course of a hot dog on a plate, followed by a second course of a hamburger on a plate. We then understood a bit better why they looked at us so funny when we made our menu request. These were not exactly multiple course type foods. But they tried, and we laughed, and everyone enjoyed themselves.

Nonetheless, today is a Monday, and here in León it's just like any other Monday, just like July 4th was a typical day 235 years ago for George III, King of England, when he penned in his diary the words I chose to title my post today. The walk into town went by very quickly, for 12 miles. The weather was pleasant, we met a very nice bartender on one of our stops, and as you can see from the pictures, the hotel we are staying in is pretty dang fantastic. More on that later.

Dad met us in León, having taken the bus in from Mansilla. While he's not so much in pain any more, his left leg has is swollen such that he has a pretty bad case of "cankles" (i.e. It's hard to tell where his calf ends and his ankle begins), so we all felt better with him not walking today, though he did quite well yesterday, I thought.

I found myself thinking, on the walk in, on how life would have been different if things had gone differently for the thirteen colonies, and in the subsequent war. I can generally trace my family back to the colonies. Would I be a British subject still? Being in California, would I be a Spaniard or a Mexican? Would the central and south american revolutions of the 1800s have taken place without an Revolution in the British colonies in the late 1700s? What about the French Revolution in 1789? It very quickly becomes rather cumbersome to ponder how life might have been different; suffice to say that it certainly would be different.

I am grateful that things are the way they are. For all it's faults, the United States, in my opinion, is still one of the greatest countries in the world. This is a dangerously Amero-centric and imperialistic sounding statement to make, one perhaps brought about by my tendency toward political conservatism, but I would like to think that I am educated and well-travelled enough to appreciate what other places and cultures have to offer. I certainly love Spain like a second home, and I would even allow that France has some redeeming qualities, mostly in sharing with the world their excellent method for cooking potatoes, but no matter how many times I have been abroad, there is nothing like the feeling of touching down on U.S. soil. Of coming "home".

I am not a fanatical patriot, but I believe strongly that one should be supportive of their government (especially if they live in a place where they elect it) and those who serve it, while maintaining a healthy skepticism in order to prevent that government (and its public servants) from becoming a self-perpetuating entity. The government exists to serve it's citizenry, no more and no less. I am grateful we live in a place where we have the freedom (among many other freedoms) to ensure our government does this.

Ok, off the soapbox. Back to León. León is OLD. Like 1st century BC old. It was founded by the Romans as a garrison for soldiers to protect the gold, tin, silver and other precious metals flowing from Galicia (Gallaecia - part of the old Roman province of Hispania Tarraconensis) through Aquitania, Transalpine Gaul and Cisalpine Gaul to Rome. It was later an important city under the Visigoths, but was partially abandoned after the Moslem invasion of 711. In 910 (that's STILL over 1100 yards ago people, and León was old then) the repopulated city became capital of the Kingdom of León, a theoretically vassal state to the Kingdom of Asturias, where the Reconquista had begun. In practicality, León was independent, and remained an independent kingdom until it merged with the Kingdom of Castile (Castilla la Vieja) in 1301, with the royal marriage of somebody important (or their child) at the time to somebody else important (or their child) at the time. Since then, León has been relegated to the status of provincial capital.

People in Spain have long memories, I've learned. Since we've entered the old Kingdom of León, I've been seeing graffiti pretty much everywhere saying "León Solo". Sometimes it's in Castillian Spanish (castellano), and sometimes it's in the old Leonese language. It translates as "León Alone". Clearly, someone misses the "Glory Days" of the Dark Ages. Nonetheless, this is an interesting social commentary. I read in a Spanish newspaper last week that 43% of Catalans would vote for secession if it were placed on a referendum. Spain is not so much a unified country as it is a confederation of different cultures and economies. Kind of sounds like the European Union, doesn't it? This is also why I think the EU is having such a hard time with it's currency and the economic crisis. Is Spain is made up of at least 12 groups of people who are all mad at each other and have been for 2000 years, that only complicates the arena when Spain as a whole is mad at the other 14 EU countries and has been for 2000 years. And vice versa.

It's also not so different from the US. So why are we different? A couple of reasons, I think. The thirteen colonies were never sovereign independent countries, nor did they all come from different, warring cultures. Additionally, because the US has a relatively weak (in my opinion) form of federalism, the states are generally left to make their own decisions, much more so this. The corresponding provinces (i.e. historical independent kingdoms) of Spain. An interesting tidbit: did you know that prior to the Civil War, the proper name "United States of America" was always used with the plural form of a verb, not the singular? In other words, prior to 1861, the United States are....not, the United States is...

Something to ponder.

I'd also rant for a bit that when people ask me where I'm from, I tell them the state, not the country, but I won't because then I would get a nasty comment (probably from my father) about trying to beat people over the head with my right-wing libertarianism, so I won't go there.

Our hotel (a parador of course), is fantastic. I will probably post tomorrow with pictures of the parador, but suffice to say that it's a medieval pilgrim hospital/monastery with all the tapestries, sculptures/carvings and gardens intact. I've included a couple of pictures of the outside, more to follow. We have a smoking deal: room, breakfast buffet, and three-course dinner (or lunch if we prefer) for 70 Euros a person. I was trying to figure out how they make money on that (it's what I'm trained in, I can't help it). Here's what I came up with, based on 2 people per room:

Total charge, 2 persons: 140 euros

Less:
Breakfast buffet, 2 persons: 30 euros list price per menu
Lunch/dinner, 3 courses, 2 persons: 74 euros list price per menu

Amount left for room: 36 euros

A quick search tells me the minimum salary in Spain is 9,000 Euros annually. Let's assume that housecleaning staff make 24,000 euros annually, it costs the company 50% of salary to cover benefits, and that the staff work 40 hours a week, cleaning a room in a half-hour.

40 hours/30 minutes per room = 80 rooms per week cleaned

24,000 euros/48 weeks (it is Spain) = 500 euros a week salary

500 euros/80 rooms = 6.125 euros salary to clean a room + 50% of salary for benefits = 9.375 euros of labor to clean the room. Let's say it costs 5 euros in supplies to restock and clean the room.

Total cost to use a room for a night: just under 15 Euros

36 Euros left over from meals - 15 Euros for using room = 21 Euros to cover overhead and profit, or 15% of the original charge. That's a little thin, but if the room were going empty otherwise, the hotel is ahead of the game, plus I've assumed full menu price on the food, so they are keeping their full overhead and margin on the food portion of the bill. By the way that 36 euros for the room is less than my parents paid for their one star room in Atapuerca, and there are five stars on the plaque outside the hotel here.

Point being, we're getting a deal, the Parador is making money, and if you ever want to stay at some fantastic places in Spain, I'll be happy to be your tour guide and/or chauffeur!

We have found a "Fosters Hollywood" not too far away which promises they've been an "American Restaurant Since 1971". I am dubious, but we will try it, to celebrate the holiday appropriately.

Happy 4th everyone!

Pictures - El Burgo Ranero to Mansilla de las Mulas

Pictures - Sahagun to El Burgo Ranero

Another 12 Miles Done

Sleep was in short supply last night.  The town we stayed in was having it's local festival and a band decided to start playing about the time we went to bed.  Of course, we couldn't just shuttle windows because the Ir conditioning in the hotel was not working.  Needless to say we were all rather tired today.

The walk today was monotonous.  Not quite boring, but I am looking forward to a change in terrain even if it means climbing hills again.  Still, I was able to watch the thunderstorms build to the north and west over the mountains as we walked.

A thunderstorm has blown up over the town this afternoon, so we have not been able to get out and explore the town.  We are in our room watching the Tour de France instead.

Today is day 16 of our trek: the halfway point.  I think we are in pretty good shape: Dads blisters are healing, though his left ankle is quite swollen.  

It is nice to walk for four or five hours and spend the rest of the day relaxing.  I know that this trip is not necessarily supposed to be a vacation, per se, but it is sure nice to have downtime to relax.

I'd upload some pictures but I don't have a wireless connection here - it will have to wait until we're in León tomorrow and at the Parador.

You Can Check Out Any Time You Like...

Today turned out to be a pretty easy day.  We only had 10.7 miles to cover, and we left at 6:30, to take advantage of cool temperatures.  There was only one bar open as we left town, so we took advantage of the opportunity for a cup of coffee.  The bartender there confirmed what we had noticed for the last few days: there do not seem to be many pilgrims at the moment.

There is not much to tell about today's walk.  We crossed a Roman bridge as we headed out of town and the walk was flat and along the edge of a highway with only one little town where we stopped for a cup of coffee and toast to break the monotony.

The terrain is flat, flat, flat but way off to the North, just barely visible in the heat and haze are the mountains that separate us from the old Kingdom of Asturias, where Pelayo began the Reconquest of Spain in the summer of 722 by resisting the Moslem overloads and retreating to a cave in the mountains with 300 men and holding off the Moslems for three years.  287 of Pelayo's men were killed before the Moslems gave up and went home.

We will have to cross those mountains before we reach Santiago, but not yet.  

We arrived about 11:15 and hat to wait a bit for our room to be ready, so we sat in the bar and had a bit of tortilla española and a coke.  An old man wandered in and spoke to us, so we struck up a conversation.  He told us at first that he'd never heard of California, then let us know he was joking.  It turns out his oldest son lives across the street for Madonna somewhere near Hollywood.  Even in the remote northern parts of Spain, in a town of 200 people, you can't get away from the Hotel California, it seems.

Dad arrived on the 2:13 train from Sahagun, and we've enjoyed a leisurely lunch and a siesta. Mom and Dad have gone out to see if the grocery is open on a Saturday afternoon to scare up some snacks.  I'm working through the "Song of Fire and Ice" series by George R. R. Martin.  It's pretty good reading.

I have a new appreciation for washing machines, having done laundry in the bathroom sink for two weeks now.  Maybe I can make this a reality show, instead of "Gym, Tanning, Laundry" my Camino mantra can be "Walking, Pastries, Laundry.". Or not.

Angry Birds, Oh Let Them Never...

Mom is addicted to "Angry Birds". She will lay on her bed and play it for hours. Every once in a while you'll hear her mutter "One blasted pig". I've offered to spend the whole whopping 99 cents for the full game, but she is content to keep playing the 15 levels provided with the free version.

Today was a very low key day. We convinced Dad to go to the doctor this morning. Once again I am impressed with the efficiency of the Spanish health care system, as from the time my folks left for the hotel, took the taxi to the doctor, saw the doctor, and returned was barely an hour. Dad is not dying. He just has a bad case of tendinitis. The doctor told him to lay off his feet a couple of days and to buy an ankle brace.

As we went into a bar for breakfast, we ran j to a German we met our first night on the trail, in France. His name is Marvin, and he is from Frankfurt. Studying Chemistry he just finished his Bachelor's degree and is taking a semester off to walk the Camino before he begins his Master's work in October. Marvin was not having a very good day. Someone had pickpocketed him, and while he had all his credit cards and papers, he lost the key to the locker where all his belongings were stored. They were having some trouble opening the locker, so he had four hours to kill. We blight him breakfast, but when we asked if he needed any money, he declined, saying that he had run in to a Swiss woman he had met previously on the Camino and she had given him 50 Euros. I made a quick joke about the Swiss always having money, but it occurred to me that this was a remarkable occurrence for two reasons: Marvin had been taken care of by friends on the Camino when he was in need, and he was honest enough not to take advantage of the situation.

We were able to make it to our 12:15 train with plenty of time to spare and an hour later found us in the town of Sahagún. This particular town, of fewer than 3,000 people was a Moslem stronghold for much of the Reconquista period, and is known as the birth place of the "Mudéjar" style of architecture. More importantly, we are now smack dab in the middle of the Meseta. It is flat. And hot again.

Mom and I walked around the town this afternoon, doing a little shopping (pastries!) and seeing what there is to see. I find myself thinking that it would be nice to have a little place in the country in Spain somewhere. But not here. I think I would much rather be in the northern mountains somewhere. If you picture in your mind the archetypical Spanish village with whitewashed houses and red-tile roofs basking in a shimmering sun on rolling plains, you've pretty much got Sahagún. So many places like this exist in Spain - old towns that whisper of glory days gone by when their fortresses held rulers of kingdoms or merchants or they boasted of powerful churchmen in their cathedrals and palaces. But that was 1000 years ago and a world away and now all that exists is a sleepy little backwater village with faded memories of youth.

Tomorrow, we walk to a town called "El Burgo Ranero", "Town of Bullfrogs". We have convinced Dad to take the train and meet us. What will take us at least four or five hours to walk, he will cover via train in exactly 11 minutes. I'll admit, that's a little depressing, but that's not really the point is it? I have enjoyed a bit of a change of pace, but am actually looking forward to walking again in the morning.