Sunday, July 10, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
The Rain Is Not Mainly On The Plain
Today, it was mainly in our boots.
We have arrived in the province of Galicia, and now have fewer than 100 miles to Santiago de Compostela. Even if we didn't have a map to tell us that we were in Galicia, the weather today made it abundantly clear - it rained all day. As our guidebook warned us, the mountains of galicia are the first thing the winds off the Atlantic have encountered in 3,000 miles. This Means moisture. It's quite an experience slogging across a mountain range for 11 miles in the rain. It actually was not too bad except for two spots where it got a little muddy, and when the wind blew for a bit. The hill that we thought would be killer was not so bad, and I'm glad to say that was able to do the whole thing without pain or swelling in his leg.
Our abode this evening is at the top of a pass in the road into Galicia, at an altitude of some 4,300 feet. I am told that the view is fantastic, if only the fog and rain would lift long enough to see it. There is nothing else around besides our hostel, so we have enjoyed a quiet afternoon. This part of Spain is very similar to Ireland, Northern England, and Scotland in terms of terrain, weather, and Celtic culture and history. It's quite different from the Spain I know, and the local dialect of Spanish mixed with Portguese and ancient Gallego can be infuriating at times.
I believe we are the only people staying in the hostal tonight, thus we have had lots of interesting conversation with our host. He cooked us an excellent vegetable soup, with the veggies coming from his own garden. I have a feeling the pork chops came from his own pig, too, but im OK with that, especially because he plopped a fried egg on top of them. Fried eggs are right up there with bacon in Brian's Rules of Food. We also enjoyed homemade Napolitanos, a chocolate pastry roll that were about the size of an iPad.
We've spent the afternoon in the bar downstairs - it is fascinating to watch both pilgrims and locals go in and out, and listen to their conversations and their stories. You really understand a place better, I think, when you experience it in this way.
We are in the bar because this is where the fire, and therefore the heat, is. Spaniards are rather obnoxious about things like heat and electricity. Even though it is July, it feels like March, and the heat (via radiators in the room) have been turned off for the season. This means my room is probably 60 degrees, at the warmest. This is quite a contrast from a few days back when the opposite was true - no air conditioning and getting cool enough to sleep was also a problem! Energy is very expensive here - the cheapest gasoline is currently $8/gallon - so the Spanish have become very adept at conservation. Years ago, we had a friend who never drove with his headlights on in Madrid, "to save the battery". Seriously. His argument was that were enough city lighting to see.
There is an electronics chain here, similar to a Best Buy, called Media Markt. I love their slogan, "Yo no soy tonto". Translation: I'm not stupid. If you have to tell people this...
One of the things dad asked me to do before I left the States was buy him a memory card for his camera. It's a good thing I did - he has taken over 700 pictures since we started the Camino. It seems like most of them are of Mom and me turned around and looking at him on the trail. I'm not sure how us standing back looking at him in front of nothing discernible on the trail is going to be different in picture one rather than picture 683, but I suppose it makes him happy.
Tomorrow, we have 13 miles to go...all downhill! The weather is supposed to be better, but I am not holding my breath!
We have arrived in the province of Galicia, and now have fewer than 100 miles to Santiago de Compostela. Even if we didn't have a map to tell us that we were in Galicia, the weather today made it abundantly clear - it rained all day. As our guidebook warned us, the mountains of galicia are the first thing the winds off the Atlantic have encountered in 3,000 miles. This Means moisture. It's quite an experience slogging across a mountain range for 11 miles in the rain. It actually was not too bad except for two spots where it got a little muddy, and when the wind blew for a bit. The hill that we thought would be killer was not so bad, and I'm glad to say that was able to do the whole thing without pain or swelling in his leg.
Our abode this evening is at the top of a pass in the road into Galicia, at an altitude of some 4,300 feet. I am told that the view is fantastic, if only the fog and rain would lift long enough to see it. There is nothing else around besides our hostel, so we have enjoyed a quiet afternoon. This part of Spain is very similar to Ireland, Northern England, and Scotland in terms of terrain, weather, and Celtic culture and history. It's quite different from the Spain I know, and the local dialect of Spanish mixed with Portguese and ancient Gallego can be infuriating at times.
I believe we are the only people staying in the hostal tonight, thus we have had lots of interesting conversation with our host. He cooked us an excellent vegetable soup, with the veggies coming from his own garden. I have a feeling the pork chops came from his own pig, too, but im OK with that, especially because he plopped a fried egg on top of them. Fried eggs are right up there with bacon in Brian's Rules of Food. We also enjoyed homemade Napolitanos, a chocolate pastry roll that were about the size of an iPad.
We've spent the afternoon in the bar downstairs - it is fascinating to watch both pilgrims and locals go in and out, and listen to their conversations and their stories. You really understand a place better, I think, when you experience it in this way.
We are in the bar because this is where the fire, and therefore the heat, is. Spaniards are rather obnoxious about things like heat and electricity. Even though it is July, it feels like March, and the heat (via radiators in the room) have been turned off for the season. This means my room is probably 60 degrees, at the warmest. This is quite a contrast from a few days back when the opposite was true - no air conditioning and getting cool enough to sleep was also a problem! Energy is very expensive here - the cheapest gasoline is currently $8/gallon - so the Spanish have become very adept at conservation. Years ago, we had a friend who never drove with his headlights on in Madrid, "to save the battery". Seriously. His argument was that were enough city lighting to see.
There is an electronics chain here, similar to a Best Buy, called Media Markt. I love their slogan, "Yo no soy tonto". Translation: I'm not stupid. If you have to tell people this...
One of the things dad asked me to do before I left the States was buy him a memory card for his camera. It's a good thing I did - he has taken over 700 pictures since we started the Camino. It seems like most of them are of Mom and me turned around and looking at him on the trail. I'm not sure how us standing back looking at him in front of nothing discernible on the trail is going to be different in picture one rather than picture 683, but I suppose it makes him happy.
Tomorrow, we have 13 miles to go...all downhill! The weather is supposed to be better, but I am not holding my breath!
Friday, July 8, 2011
The Lazy Rooster
Mom and I have decided that if we ever open a bar or pensión or casa rural we will call it "The Lazy Rooster". Here's where we got the idea: yesterday we were walking to Villafranca del Bierzo through some random town I can't remember the name of, and we heard a "cock a doodle doo!" in the yard next to us. I looked at my watch - 9:30am. "That rooster is late." I commented to Mom, and this led us to a discussion of the fact that on the Camino the albergues kick everyone out early (usually by 7) but the bars don't open till 8 or 8:30. This makes it quite difficult for those of us who require coffee to function in the morning. So, we will not kick people out early, thus earning the name "The Lazy Rooster".
The walk today made me marvel at the fact that there are atheists in the world. I don't mean to sound judgmental or to belittle the viewpoints of others, but everywhere I looked today, I saw the hand of God. Our first seven mrs took us up and over a range of hills with chestnut groves that were covered in mist. After we descended into the next valley the remainder of our hike was through a river gorge, mountains towering on either side. Again, it was misty, but this just added to our sense of wonder as we passes by fields of cattle, or sleepy towns on the hillsides, or even the ruins of castles standing guard on the ahoders of mountains.
It was a magical walk, and yet it was also an interesting juxtaposition of time and place. This river gorge serves as the conduit for an ultramodern interstate highway. As is often the case, the interstate cuts a fairly straight path with tunnels and very high bridges to spam the valleys. The interstate bypasses the old national highway 6, much like our old pre-interstate highways. This highway meanders a bit more and goes through many of the little towns. Think "Route 66" and you've got the idea. Our walk took us on the even older roadbed of the national highway before it was straightened and repaved, in other words, we walked on the ancient roads that were paved before highways began to be improved and rebuilt. It was fascinating to look up and see both the national highway and perhaps the interstate with traffic flying by. How much you miss when you only travel the "main road". Again, people were very friendly. One couple in particular, in their 70s leaned out their window, waved, and wished us Buen Camino! as we walked by and greeted them. This is a common occurrence, people speak to you, and vice versa, as you pass them on the street, and they are almost all positive. It can't help but lift your spirits.
Thus, the route lent itself to pondering, and now, 21 days into our adventure, I find that I am beginning to feel a sense of renewal with respect to my world "back home". Before I left, I was rather world-weary and felt as if I was generally going through the motions: at church, at home, and yes, even at work to some extent. I am hopeful that I will be able to return home with a new sense of joy oin living, in the people I get to interact with, and in life in general. I also have been able to sort out, at least internally, what things are really important, and which are not.
Is this what I wanted from the Camino? Perhaps. I prayed and hoped that God would speak to me and work on me on this trip. I've not heard his voice, per se, but I think that I've been spoken to an changed nonetheless. Perhaps it's not in the manner I hoped for, but neither did I want to undertake this adventure and telling God what I wanted him to accomplish.
Tomorrow is a ten mile day, but the first give involve a 2000-ft climb. Dad is bound and determined to walk with us once again, and Mom and I are rather wary, but Daf will not be dissuaded. I will be praying that Dad does not do himself further harm. I suppose we now know where I inherited my tendency toward mulishness.
The walk today made me marvel at the fact that there are atheists in the world. I don't mean to sound judgmental or to belittle the viewpoints of others, but everywhere I looked today, I saw the hand of God. Our first seven mrs took us up and over a range of hills with chestnut groves that were covered in mist. After we descended into the next valley the remainder of our hike was through a river gorge, mountains towering on either side. Again, it was misty, but this just added to our sense of wonder as we passes by fields of cattle, or sleepy towns on the hillsides, or even the ruins of castles standing guard on the ahoders of mountains.
It was a magical walk, and yet it was also an interesting juxtaposition of time and place. This river gorge serves as the conduit for an ultramodern interstate highway. As is often the case, the interstate cuts a fairly straight path with tunnels and very high bridges to spam the valleys. The interstate bypasses the old national highway 6, much like our old pre-interstate highways. This highway meanders a bit more and goes through many of the little towns. Think "Route 66" and you've got the idea. Our walk took us on the even older roadbed of the national highway before it was straightened and repaved, in other words, we walked on the ancient roads that were paved before highways began to be improved and rebuilt. It was fascinating to look up and see both the national highway and perhaps the interstate with traffic flying by. How much you miss when you only travel the "main road". Again, people were very friendly. One couple in particular, in their 70s leaned out their window, waved, and wished us Buen Camino! as we walked by and greeted them. This is a common occurrence, people speak to you, and vice versa, as you pass them on the street, and they are almost all positive. It can't help but lift your spirits.
Thus, the route lent itself to pondering, and now, 21 days into our adventure, I find that I am beginning to feel a sense of renewal with respect to my world "back home". Before I left, I was rather world-weary and felt as if I was generally going through the motions: at church, at home, and yes, even at work to some extent. I am hopeful that I will be able to return home with a new sense of joy oin living, in the people I get to interact with, and in life in general. I also have been able to sort out, at least internally, what things are really important, and which are not.
Is this what I wanted from the Camino? Perhaps. I prayed and hoped that God would speak to me and work on me on this trip. I've not heard his voice, per se, but I think that I've been spoken to an changed nonetheless. Perhaps it's not in the manner I hoped for, but neither did I want to undertake this adventure and telling God what I wanted him to accomplish.
Tomorrow is a ten mile day, but the first give involve a 2000-ft climb. Dad is bound and determined to walk with us once again, and Mom and I are rather wary, but Daf will not be dissuaded. I will be praying that Dad does not do himself further harm. I suppose we now know where I inherited my tendency toward mulishness.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Back In Tne Saddle
Mom and I clicked off 14 miles today. It was not too bad, except that toward the end we got into some pretty mountainous stuff. I don't mind the hills so much, but when you are dealing with terrain, the trail tends to get rather rocky, and this is hard on your feet. By the time we arrived, I felt like I done 14 miles. I am beginning to think my feet will never get used to the walking.
The walk was very pretty, we are in the mountains that separate The old kingdom of León from that of Galicia. We walked through vineyards again today, with several ruined castles visible here and there in the foothills, and the ruins of old Roman gold mines also visible. The Romans used water to literally sluice away the hillsides to get at the gold, and we have been left, 2000 years later, with somE very interesting rock formations.
The vineyards are mostly of a type of grape known as Mencía, and the story is that a French pilgrim brought with him many years ago a vine of Sauvignon Franc and planted it. Over time the vines adapted to the area and changed and became the Mencía. This seems appropriate, as the town we are staying in is called Villafranca, Village of the Franks. There are several villages named thus along the Camino, and are so named named because French pilgrims on their way to Santiago would decide they likes an area so much that they would simply settle there. See, even the French think Spain is better than France!
The town did not make a good impression on me as we walked in, but after lunch and some rest, we explored a bit more, and I have revised my opinion. The town is built on a hillside, and has a castle/palace, partially ruined, but still inhabited. It also has five or so large churches, and spans both sides of a small river. What's interesting is that many of the houses appear to have been the "town homes" of local nobles, as many of the residences have coats of arms over the doors. I will have to do some research (and post pictures) of this little burg when I have a real Internet connection again. I even saw a Casa Rural with a plaque indicating the remodeling had been funded by the Spanish government and the European Union. I want in on that deal!
Tomorrows hike will be a bit of a challenge. We thought it would be a flat easy day, but upon further inspection we discovered that this route is mainly along a very dangerous stretch of freeway. The alternative is much more picturesque, and safer, mountain path. The price to be paid is that it will also involve a 1500 ft climb and subsequent descent. We have opted to not place our lives in the hands of Spanish drivers (who generally scare even me) and will instead climb yet another mountain.
Dad is doing much better. Of course, if I got to sleep in late then hop on a bus for a 20 minute ride to my next hotel, I would feel pretty great, too. He figured out that his boots, which are the same ones he's trained in for a year, are probably worn out. So, he bought a new pair, and they seem to be a big improvement. He hopes to be able to walk the last 60 miles with so he can still get his certificate.
In all seriousness, I will admit that I am loving this trip. Even though the walking is hard, I am enjoying the effort of it, and the time to think it gives me. I also love being able to relax and rest in the afternoons, and explore places I would not have seen otherwise, talk to the locals, and meet other pilgrims. I am looking forward to getting back home to a real washing machine (washing by hand in the sink or tub is the pits as is having every piece of clothing you own hung up to dry on every available surface in a hotel room) and I can not wait to be able to walk somewhere - anywhere - without a 30lb. Appendage on my back. Nonetheless, this is all part of the unique experience, and I wouldn't change a bit of it.
The walk was very pretty, we are in the mountains that separate The old kingdom of León from that of Galicia. We walked through vineyards again today, with several ruined castles visible here and there in the foothills, and the ruins of old Roman gold mines also visible. The Romans used water to literally sluice away the hillsides to get at the gold, and we have been left, 2000 years later, with somE very interesting rock formations.
The vineyards are mostly of a type of grape known as Mencía, and the story is that a French pilgrim brought with him many years ago a vine of Sauvignon Franc and planted it. Over time the vines adapted to the area and changed and became the Mencía. This seems appropriate, as the town we are staying in is called Villafranca, Village of the Franks. There are several villages named thus along the Camino, and are so named named because French pilgrims on their way to Santiago would decide they likes an area so much that they would simply settle there. See, even the French think Spain is better than France!
The town did not make a good impression on me as we walked in, but after lunch and some rest, we explored a bit more, and I have revised my opinion. The town is built on a hillside, and has a castle/palace, partially ruined, but still inhabited. It also has five or so large churches, and spans both sides of a small river. What's interesting is that many of the houses appear to have been the "town homes" of local nobles, as many of the residences have coats of arms over the doors. I will have to do some research (and post pictures) of this little burg when I have a real Internet connection again. I even saw a Casa Rural with a plaque indicating the remodeling had been funded by the Spanish government and the European Union. I want in on that deal!
Tomorrows hike will be a bit of a challenge. We thought it would be a flat easy day, but upon further inspection we discovered that this route is mainly along a very dangerous stretch of freeway. The alternative is much more picturesque, and safer, mountain path. The price to be paid is that it will also involve a 1500 ft climb and subsequent descent. We have opted to not place our lives in the hands of Spanish drivers (who generally scare even me) and will instead climb yet another mountain.
Dad is doing much better. Of course, if I got to sleep in late then hop on a bus for a 20 minute ride to my next hotel, I would feel pretty great, too. He figured out that his boots, which are the same ones he's trained in for a year, are probably worn out. So, he bought a new pair, and they seem to be a big improvement. He hopes to be able to walk the last 60 miles with so he can still get his certificate.
In all seriousness, I will admit that I am loving this trip. Even though the walking is hard, I am enjoying the effort of it, and the time to think it gives me. I also love being able to relax and rest in the afternoons, and explore places I would not have seen otherwise, talk to the locals, and meet other pilgrims. I am looking forward to getting back home to a real washing machine (washing by hand in the sink or tub is the pits as is having every piece of clothing you own hung up to dry on every available surface in a hotel room) and I can not wait to be able to walk somewhere - anywhere - without a 30lb. Appendage on my back. Nonetheless, this is all part of the unique experience, and I wouldn't change a bit of it.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Who Cares, We're In Spain!
We were sad to say goodbye to Leon today. I think I may have to go back at some point and spend a week, just to see how I like it longer term. The train took us not so rapidly to the city of Ponferrada. Ponferrada was an Iron Age settlement that became a Roman outpost in the first century. The name comes the Latin "Pons Ferrada", which is Latin for Iron Bridge - the iron reinforced bridge that spans the river. This should not be confused with "Poms Ferrada" which is a Latin slang term used to describe men with a lot of...guts. Or I could be lying.
Ponferrada has one of the coolest castles I've ever seen, excepting the one that I will someday own, of course, and in the Middle Ages this castle was rather important to the Knights Templar. You can guess where I'm going with this and that I spent some time checking history again today. Here's the story: there was this King of France (see, it's ALWAYS the French that are up to no good) named Phillipe who had borrowed a lot of money from Templars to finance his war with England, and he really didn't want to pay up, so he convinced the Pope at the time, Clement (a rather ironic name for this particular Pope, I might add), that the Templars were sodomites, satanists, heretics, and had generally poor fashion sense. We are talking about a French king, after all. So Clement agreed to do some investigating, based on some inside information from a few ex-Templars who didn't make it as unfashionable knights. 72 Knights were tortured until they confessed to all the crimes. Clement burned all the Templars he could find at the stake, Phillipe didn't have to pay back the debt, and the general level of haute couture in Europe increased significantly. It also made for one big empty castle in Ponferrada.
A curious side note is that the Grand High Poobah Templar, as he burned in front of Notre Dame, declared that both Clement and the snappily-dressed Phillipe would meet him again soon in Heaven. Sure enough, Clement fell ill and died within a month. Phillipe was killed before the end of the year when his ascot got caught in a grist mill. Actually, it was a hunting accident, nonetheless the Templar's prediction came true.
Ponferrada is a nice little town, with a strangely Alpine feel to the buildings and architecture. Today it's probably a lot quieter than when there were thousands of Templar nights hiding from the Pope, but it seems like a neat place, if not the easiest to get to.
Dad has been trying to stay off his feet, rather unsuccessfully. We spent almost two hours poking around the castle, by which time his left leg had swollen up bigger than Kanye West's ego. We returned to the hotel at which point Mom informed us the we had disturbed her siesta...which it turns out she had started only ten minutes before we returned. I'm not sure that actually counts as "disturbing", Mom.
The mothership and I will head out early. We have a longer day - 15 miles tomorrow. At the end is a Parador, and hopefully, my gimpy father, who will cover in 30 minutes via bus what will take us ambulatory pilgrims six hours or better to walk.
I've included some pictures of Ponferrada and it's excellent castle for you to enjoy. And don't forget: "Who cares, we're in Spain!"
Pictures of our hotel in Leon #1 of 2
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