I broke down and bought a shell the other day. Most pilgrims have these scallop shells attached to their packs. They´re the symbol of the camino because St. James´s alleged grave was supposedly surrounded by scallop shells since his so-called body had to travel overseas. Do I sound skeptical? Neither Luke nor I had gotten a shell yet... I figured any Saint with ¨kill¨as a part of his nickname was suspect and did not deserve to be venerated on my pack. I really liked the salesman, though, so I broke down. Now I´m officially part of the pilgrim club.
There are actually a lot of ways our general attitude and trip runs counter to that of most pilgrims. For example, I love purchasing items and adding weight to my pack. Granted, I ditched Don Quixote on the first day, but otherwise I'm not incredibly conscientious about kilos. Cute bag? Meh, why not. Book of Neruda poems? Sure. My perceptive friend Meghan Cox pointed out that buying hiking sandals in addition to tennis shoes added weight... it´s true. I have to admit I did feel a little silly today when I passed a Dutch woman who´d hiked the Camino 4 times and was only wearing a fanny pack and a tiny backpack. The important thing here of course is that I passed her. Ha.
I think our most rebellious act yet is going to be skipping out on Santiago completely (gasp!) We just didn´t give ourselves enough time to finish, and we were planning on taking a bus a few days early to see the city. At this point, though, our bodies feel so good and we´re loving these small mountain towns so much that we don´t want to stop walking. When we stop, we´ll be about a week outside of Santiago, but we´ll head straight for Madrid. It´s kind of sacriligious... but also a great excuse to come back! Tomorrow, we´re hiking to Vilafranca, and that will be our last day. Then, we´ll take a day to go from Ponferrada to Madrid, and spend a day in Madrid before we fly home.
Hopefully I can get in one more entry about all the wisdom I´ve gained, but if not, see you all back in the States soon!
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Mountains = calm + exhileration
The night before we left Leon, we were blessed by nuns. The verdict is still out on whether nuns are actually happier or more peaceful than your standard Bridge group or Bingo bunch. From what I´ve seen so far, I don´t think so. In the States, the Red Hat Ladies are much more joyful... the convent should take notes. The nun that gave us the blessing was super cute, though, and she made sure to emphasize (in Spanish, to a group of international pilgrims) that the camino is a spiritual journey and not a tourist experience. They separated the men and the women by a floor and locked the door at 10pm just to remind us.
On our way out of the city, we could finally see mountains in the distance. There´s something about being surrounded by mountains that alters my mental and even physical state. I feel more calm - like I´ve just crawled into bed and pulled my comforter around me after a tough day. There´s also a touch of exhileration in not knowing what´s on the other side. Maybe it was the nuns´ blessing or the plate of protein-filled tapas we´d eaten, but I think it´s most likely that the mountains caused my sudden spurt of energy as we left. I was actually excited to be walking again.
Looking through the blog, I realized that I haven´t written much about the landscape or our actual time walking. That´s partly because so many thoughts run through my head during the day that it´s hard to distill them at the end. I also like leaving that bit a mystery so you´ll think I´ve been having cathartic experiences and not just making up songs about Tio Pepe and Silver Fox. (Insert photo of Luke making a thumbs up in front of Silver Fox HERE). I do have to tell you about the wildflowers, though.
The red poppies are my favorite because they´re so resilient. They pop up out of concrete, between barley, and sometimes take over entire hillsides. There are also these yellow bushes that line the paths and almost emanate enough perfume to cover the smell of sweaty pilgrims. We´ve seen fields of daisies that look like snow... O.K., I´ll stop and just add pictures here because it´s too hard to avoid cliches.Maybe that´s why I haven´t written much about the landscape. Seriously, though, we´ve been walking through nature-calendar land.
On our way out of the city, we could finally see mountains in the distance. There´s something about being surrounded by mountains that alters my mental and even physical state. I feel more calm - like I´ve just crawled into bed and pulled my comforter around me after a tough day. There´s also a touch of exhileration in not knowing what´s on the other side. Maybe it was the nuns´ blessing or the plate of protein-filled tapas we´d eaten, but I think it´s most likely that the mountains caused my sudden spurt of energy as we left. I was actually excited to be walking again.
Looking through the blog, I realized that I haven´t written much about the landscape or our actual time walking. That´s partly because so many thoughts run through my head during the day that it´s hard to distill them at the end. I also like leaving that bit a mystery so you´ll think I´ve been having cathartic experiences and not just making up songs about Tio Pepe and Silver Fox. (Insert photo of Luke making a thumbs up in front of Silver Fox HERE). I do have to tell you about the wildflowers, though.
The red poppies are my favorite because they´re so resilient. They pop up out of concrete, between barley, and sometimes take over entire hillsides. There are also these yellow bushes that line the paths and almost emanate enough perfume to cover the smell of sweaty pilgrims. We´ve seen fields of daisies that look like snow... O.K., I´ll stop and just add pictures here because it´s too hard to avoid cliches.Maybe that´s why I haven´t written much about the landscape. Seriously, though, we´ve been walking through nature-calendar land.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Luke´s European Floor Conversion
Today while we were walking, Luke was explaining to me how it´s O.K. for him to smooch a 19 year-old Dutch girl even though his age floor in the States is 21. Here, I´m going to let him explain...
ok normally i have an age floor of 21. but i have decided that while in europe one has to factor in the conversion rate. since the euro is so strong currently, there is a 1.3 conversion rate. this means that my 21 age floor actually in europe is closer to 18. cheers.
This is what I have to put up with.
ok normally i have an age floor of 21. but i have decided that while in europe one has to factor in the conversion rate. since the euro is so strong currently, there is a 1.3 conversion rate. this means that my 21 age floor actually in europe is closer to 18. cheers.
This is what I have to put up with.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
On Yellow Arrow Dependency and City Reunions
The 18k (roughly 12 miles) into Leon yesterday was pretty ridiculous. There were some points where the camino stopped and we were just walking alongside the highway. It´s very strange entering a large city on foot especially after having been in the middle of a desert for a week. My senses were totally overwhelmed by horns and exhaust fumes, and eveytime a large truck drove by, I was worried I would blow over backpack and all. Luckily, I made it off the highway and into the city streets.
It was the first time I had entered a city on my own. The group was lingering at a picnic area, and I was feeling spry and eager for a hot shower, so I charged ahead. Luke had our guidebook, so I was completely dependent on the yellow arrows to guide me into the center of the city. You know how hiking trails have marks on trees to show you where to go? Well, the camino is blazed with yellow arrows painted on sidewalks and signposts, and the occasional bronze seashell embedded in the road. Sometimes bars or other businesses will use the arrows to guide you into their establishments, so it can get kind of confusing.
So, there I was, completely on my own, senses reeling, following yellow arrows blindly into the city. Of course, I got lost. Finally, I just began asking people where the cathedral was and hoping I would meet up with the group there. Just as I was about to step into an icecream shop to make myself feel better, Luke jumped out from behind a wall. YES! We headed towards our hotel and had the best showers of our lives in a tiny one-star tub. Then, we wandered the city for tapas, saw the cathedral´s amazing stain glass, and ate Indian food with the British brothers for dinner.
Oh, I forgot to tell you we ran into the British brothers again. In fact, all the characters we´d surpassed by going at such a quick pace across the meseta caught up with us in the city. We´ve been reunited with the Silver Fox, an adorable Dutch couple, and Bridget, a fellow W&M grad who we met in Belorado. It´s part of the charm of the camino the way we form attachments with people we´ve only seen or exchanged a few words with.
Since we spent all of today in the city rather than walking on, our companions will shift again. The "boy band" (our nickname for a couple of gap year kids from England) broke up when one decided to leave today. We´ve got 5 days left in the Camino of our Lives, so things could get interesting...
It was the first time I had entered a city on my own. The group was lingering at a picnic area, and I was feeling spry and eager for a hot shower, so I charged ahead. Luke had our guidebook, so I was completely dependent on the yellow arrows to guide me into the center of the city. You know how hiking trails have marks on trees to show you where to go? Well, the camino is blazed with yellow arrows painted on sidewalks and signposts, and the occasional bronze seashell embedded in the road. Sometimes bars or other businesses will use the arrows to guide you into their establishments, so it can get kind of confusing.
So, there I was, completely on my own, senses reeling, following yellow arrows blindly into the city. Of course, I got lost. Finally, I just began asking people where the cathedral was and hoping I would meet up with the group there. Just as I was about to step into an icecream shop to make myself feel better, Luke jumped out from behind a wall. YES! We headed towards our hotel and had the best showers of our lives in a tiny one-star tub. Then, we wandered the city for tapas, saw the cathedral´s amazing stain glass, and ate Indian food with the British brothers for dinner.
Oh, I forgot to tell you we ran into the British brothers again. In fact, all the characters we´d surpassed by going at such a quick pace across the meseta caught up with us in the city. We´ve been reunited with the Silver Fox, an adorable Dutch couple, and Bridget, a fellow W&M grad who we met in Belorado. It´s part of the charm of the camino the way we form attachments with people we´ve only seen or exchanged a few words with.
Since we spent all of today in the city rather than walking on, our companions will shift again. The "boy band" (our nickname for a couple of gap year kids from England) broke up when one decided to leave today. We´ve got 5 days left in the Camino of our Lives, so things could get interesting...
Most OCD Pilgrim Ever (revised)
My hiking companion Luke has opted not to read this blog while we´re on the trip, so I get to tell you about all his quirks before he has a chance to censor... ha! Let´s begin with the fact that every morning, about 5 minutes into the walk, he asks me to check his pack for his passport. This happens every morning without fail. He´s only remembered to check for it once before we start walking. Actually, let me go ahead and give you an entire play-by-play of Luke´s day, which is entirely predictable at this point:
5:45am: Luke wakes up to the sound of old men rustling in their bags and awesome banana hammock views
6:00am: Luke rolls up his sleeping bag and then wakes me up. While I am getting my stuff together, Luke has a minor panic attack because he hates waiting. He is ready in 5 minutes every morning because all of his clothes were pre-packed the night before in separate Ziplock bags.
7:00am: We head out on the trail. By this point, all Luke can think about are chocolate croissants. In the first town we come to, he´ll buy at least one and eat it en route.
circa 11:00am: Luke buys a Coke and drinks it.
throughout the day: The group takes multiple breaks. Luke stops and sips his water, then decides to walk on... because he hates waiting.
an hour ahead of the rest of the group: Luke arrives in town and has another mild panic attack while trying to figure out where we will stay, how everyone will find him, and how responsible he is for making sure everyone gets a spot.
once accomodations have been arranged: Luke has a beer. (Our friend from Luxembourg observed that Luke really likes beer, which would be funny to anyone in the States since there, Luke never drinks).
Another one of Luke´s most entertaining tendencies is to partly remember a Spanish word or phrase and then hurriedly throw it into conversation. Some of my favorite examples are:
- Asking "Quisiera helado?" instead of "Te gusta helado?"
(Or, "Would you like icecream?" instead of "Do you like icecream?")
- Asking "Necesitas Ignacio?" instead of "Necesito firmar?"
(Or, "Do you need Ignacio?" instead of "Do I need to sign?")
- My all time favorite was when he asked for a sopapilla (a Spanish dessert) instead of a sepillo (a toothbrush)
5:45am: Luke wakes up to the sound of old men rustling in their bags and awesome banana hammock views
6:00am: Luke rolls up his sleeping bag and then wakes me up. While I am getting my stuff together, Luke has a minor panic attack because he hates waiting. He is ready in 5 minutes every morning because all of his clothes were pre-packed the night before in separate Ziplock bags.
7:00am: We head out on the trail. By this point, all Luke can think about are chocolate croissants. In the first town we come to, he´ll buy at least one and eat it en route.
circa 11:00am: Luke buys a Coke and drinks it.
throughout the day: The group takes multiple breaks. Luke stops and sips his water, then decides to walk on... because he hates waiting.
an hour ahead of the rest of the group: Luke arrives in town and has another mild panic attack while trying to figure out where we will stay, how everyone will find him, and how responsible he is for making sure everyone gets a spot.
once accomodations have been arranged: Luke has a beer. (Our friend from Luxembourg observed that Luke really likes beer, which would be funny to anyone in the States since there, Luke never drinks).
Another one of Luke´s most entertaining tendencies is to partly remember a Spanish word or phrase and then hurriedly throw it into conversation. Some of my favorite examples are:
- Asking "Quisiera helado?" instead of "Te gusta helado?"
(Or, "Would you like icecream?" instead of "Do you like icecream?")
- Asking "Necesitas Ignacio?" instead of "Necesito firmar?"
(Or, "Do you need Ignacio?" instead of "Do I need to sign?")
- My all time favorite was when he asked for a sopapilla (a Spanish dessert) instead of a sepillo (a toothbrush)
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Most High Maintenance Pilgrim Ever
Now that we've been walking for over two weeks and have gone over two hundred miles, I think I can tell you about my Job day without worrying the Mom too much or sounding like a big wimp to the rest of you. Every injury I have ever had has re-appeared at some point during our walk. On day nine, not only did I have a raging cold (thanks 70-person rooms, thanks) and tendonitis, but we also had to make a decision about whether to stay with the group or take a bus and skip the upcoming desert-esque section. If there's anything I hate more than sniffles and soreness, it´s DECISIONS.
It´s sort of funny the way that our group has come together. We´re an unlikely bunch, but also like-minded and intrigued by one another. Group dynamics and finding beds has been interesting, but on the whole it´s been fun to find out about Dutch gypsies, Mexican politics, Luxembourgish humor, and new English words from the Brits (there are now 5 Brits among us!) Plus, I think Luke and I would drive each other crazy if it was just us and the Cuckoo birds. So, it was tough to think about leaving all that behind to skip to a week ahead on the trail. We figured we wouldn´t have time to finish the whole thing, though, so something had to be cut.
I was mulling over this conundrum as I hobbled and sneezed my way into Burgos - and it was a lonnng way beside factories and fourteen-wheelers. We had to walk all the way through the city to get to the Albergue in a park on the other side. The poplars in the park were in full bloom, so their buds snowed down on us upon arrival, a sort of surreal shift from the city streets. I spent the day prostrate in my sleeping bag with John Brierly (the author of our mystical and spiritual guidebook). He made it sound like the first few days of the desert meseta were pretty beautiful, so we decided to stay with the group and walk.
BEST DECISION EVER. (I´ll insert photos of the meseta views and most glorious moment of my life later)
Over the past week, we´ve been able to go at a quick pace since the meseta is so flat. I found a brace for my tendonitis, and some CalmaGrip and honey for the cold that have done wonders. As long as I can get my coffee and croissant in the morning, I´m up for the early morning walking. The first few days were incredible, and it hasn´t been as boring as it could have because the endless wheat and barley fields are sort of tranquil (as long as we´re not walking by the highway).
Also, we get to our final destination super early and have lots of time to sit around. We walk 30k in the morning, end up in a one pub town, and sit around drinking wine and washing socks ´til it´s time for the pilgrim menu (delicious, cheap 3 course meals with all the french bread you can eat). At times, it feels like the camino is more of a glorified pub crawl than a spiritual journey. Take that John Brierly. Tomorrow, we´lll arrive in Leon and have decided to spend a couple of nights there. It´s time for a break.
It´s sort of funny the way that our group has come together. We´re an unlikely bunch, but also like-minded and intrigued by one another. Group dynamics and finding beds has been interesting, but on the whole it´s been fun to find out about Dutch gypsies, Mexican politics, Luxembourgish humor, and new English words from the Brits (there are now 5 Brits among us!) Plus, I think Luke and I would drive each other crazy if it was just us and the Cuckoo birds. So, it was tough to think about leaving all that behind to skip to a week ahead on the trail. We figured we wouldn´t have time to finish the whole thing, though, so something had to be cut.
I was mulling over this conundrum as I hobbled and sneezed my way into Burgos - and it was a lonnng way beside factories and fourteen-wheelers. We had to walk all the way through the city to get to the Albergue in a park on the other side. The poplars in the park were in full bloom, so their buds snowed down on us upon arrival, a sort of surreal shift from the city streets. I spent the day prostrate in my sleeping bag with John Brierly (the author of our mystical and spiritual guidebook). He made it sound like the first few days of the desert meseta were pretty beautiful, so we decided to stay with the group and walk.
BEST DECISION EVER. (I´ll insert photos of the meseta views and most glorious moment of my life later)
Over the past week, we´ve been able to go at a quick pace since the meseta is so flat. I found a brace for my tendonitis, and some CalmaGrip and honey for the cold that have done wonders. As long as I can get my coffee and croissant in the morning, I´m up for the early morning walking. The first few days were incredible, and it hasn´t been as boring as it could have because the endless wheat and barley fields are sort of tranquil (as long as we´re not walking by the highway).
Also, we get to our final destination super early and have lots of time to sit around. We walk 30k in the morning, end up in a one pub town, and sit around drinking wine and washing socks ´til it´s time for the pilgrim menu (delicious, cheap 3 course meals with all the french bread you can eat). At times, it feels like the camino is more of a glorified pub crawl than a spiritual journey. Take that John Brierly. Tomorrow, we´lll arrive in Leon and have decided to spend a couple of nights there. It´s time for a break.
Tales Along the Camino
The camino is paved with stories. Several towns along the way are named after pilgrims who stopped, dedicated their lives to those following behind, and became Saints. There are the stories of those we walk with daily - and the books that brought them here. We can thank a recent bestseller in Germany for the Deutsch voices that fill our rooms (the first we hear in the afternoon and the first to leave in the morning... tight schedule, those Germans). Paula Coelho is responsible for the chorus "Todo bene!" that rings out everytime the Brazilians enter town with their video cameras and wide smiles.
One of the first questions fellow pilgrims ask when they come up alongside one another is, "Why did you decide to do the camino?" Everyone has a story. I find that my answer changes often depending on how tired I am and how well my fellow walker speaks English. Towards the end of the afternoon, waxing philosophical or claiming a touristy motivation seems weak, so I simply say: purgatory points. Honestly, it´s kind of strange to be doing something so out of the ordinary and at times challenging without any really "good" reason... but it's also surprisingly O.K. You just keep walking.
There is one guy whose whole life is the camino. He just walks back and forth barefoot, looks a bit like Jesus with dreadlocks, and has learned multiple languages from fellow pilgrims. Another older Spanish man has been hiking it in sections. He only carries a tiny backpack, and every morning he walks zipped up in his sleeping bag like a papoose. It cuts down on warm-weather wear I suppose. We had dinner in Logroño with a couple from Germany that started walking together after finishing chemo. They told us about one of the trail's most famous legends:
Hundreds of years ago, a German family was walking, and they stopped at an Inn in Santa Domingo. The Innekeeper´s daughter hit on their son, but being the good pilgrim he was, he refused her advances. She was so insulted that she hid a golden cup in his bag. The next morning, she told her father he had stolen it, and the town brought him back to determine his punishment. They decided he should be hung.
Accounts vary, but some say his parents kept walking (like I said, tight schedule... Germans haven't changed much). Others say they stayed for the hanging. Either way, they went out to the woods where he had a noose around his neck and found that he had survived. When the parents went to tell the priest, who was eating dinner, he exclaimed, "Your son is as dead as the rooster on my plate!" Suddenly, the rooster got up and began dancing on the plate. The son was freed, and camino justice was carried out. In Santa Domingo, they keep a rooster and chicken in the church in memory of the tale.
Last night, we had dinner with another German guy who told us all about the story of the Knights of Templar. Several of the towns and churches we've passed by on the meseta have been named after the knights, but neither Luke nor I knew much about their history. It's fascinating the new stories we hear everyday, the old ones we pass through without even knowing it, and the small steps we are taking to come up with our own. (Agh, too much John Brierly... I´ll try to avoid cheesy concluding sentences in the future).
One of the first questions fellow pilgrims ask when they come up alongside one another is, "Why did you decide to do the camino?" Everyone has a story. I find that my answer changes often depending on how tired I am and how well my fellow walker speaks English. Towards the end of the afternoon, waxing philosophical or claiming a touristy motivation seems weak, so I simply say: purgatory points. Honestly, it´s kind of strange to be doing something so out of the ordinary and at times challenging without any really "good" reason... but it's also surprisingly O.K. You just keep walking.
There is one guy whose whole life is the camino. He just walks back and forth barefoot, looks a bit like Jesus with dreadlocks, and has learned multiple languages from fellow pilgrims. Another older Spanish man has been hiking it in sections. He only carries a tiny backpack, and every morning he walks zipped up in his sleeping bag like a papoose. It cuts down on warm-weather wear I suppose. We had dinner in Logroño with a couple from Germany that started walking together after finishing chemo. They told us about one of the trail's most famous legends:
Hundreds of years ago, a German family was walking, and they stopped at an Inn in Santa Domingo. The Innekeeper´s daughter hit on their son, but being the good pilgrim he was, he refused her advances. She was so insulted that she hid a golden cup in his bag. The next morning, she told her father he had stolen it, and the town brought him back to determine his punishment. They decided he should be hung.
Accounts vary, but some say his parents kept walking (like I said, tight schedule... Germans haven't changed much). Others say they stayed for the hanging. Either way, they went out to the woods where he had a noose around his neck and found that he had survived. When the parents went to tell the priest, who was eating dinner, he exclaimed, "Your son is as dead as the rooster on my plate!" Suddenly, the rooster got up and began dancing on the plate. The son was freed, and camino justice was carried out. In Santa Domingo, they keep a rooster and chicken in the church in memory of the tale.
Last night, we had dinner with another German guy who told us all about the story of the Knights of Templar. Several of the towns and churches we've passed by on the meseta have been named after the knights, but neither Luke nor I knew much about their history. It's fascinating the new stories we hear everyday, the old ones we pass through without even knowing it, and the small steps we are taking to come up with our own. (Agh, too much John Brierly... I´ll try to avoid cheesy concluding sentences in the future).
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